Burned (Drake Security #5)

Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

LORD

I ’m intensely aware of everything Alrick as we make our way downstairs to the kitchen. The way his hair hangs like golden curtains across his shoulders, the flex of his many muscles straining my too-small clothes, the hypnotic scent pouring from him.

I am also intensely aware of what we’re both refusing to acknowledge. It feels like as long as neither of us admits that I’m a dragon and he knows it, we can keep a tenuous peace. I know the only reason he’s going along with it is that he doesn’t have a plan to get back to his brothers yet and he’s trusting me when I say I’ll let him go in a few days. What will happen when I refuse to let him go, or, gods forbid, he finds out we’re bonded? I don’t even want to think about it right now.

He grunts and rubs the center of his chest, his bare feet padding softly against the polished wood floor, his eyes roaming over everything, taking it all in, no doubt making note of every possible exit and weapon along the way.

“Something wrong?” He’s effectively immortal now. He would have healed even without Dahlia’s potion, it just might have taken a little longer. But the image of him lying pale and limp with his chest torn wide open refuses to leave my mind.

Alrick shakes his head and drops his hand.

“Like I said, just a weird ache. That one felt kind of… I don’t know, fluttery. Like nerves or something.” He darts his eyes to me then stands a little taller. “But I have nothing to be nervous about.”

He says it so defiantly that my blood heats and my dragon tugs inside my chest again, and Alrick frowns. He can feel it, obviously. Just like I can feel the complicated tangle of emotions that flicker and churn inside of him. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s not stupid, so how long will it take him to figure it out? Hopefully I can find a way to break the bond before he does.

My dragon growls and my throat burns. I grit my teeth and swallow the smoke that threatens to pour from my mouth. I haven’t had this much trouble controlling my dragon since I was a welp. Is this how my brothers feel all the time? Dragged around by unruly, scaled beasts who refuse to be leash trained?

Alrick gives me a strange look and I realize I’ve stopped in the middle of the hallway to stare at him. I clear my throat, thankful that no smoke comes out of my nose when I do, then I jerk my head towards the swinging doors that lead into the kitchen.

“After you,” I say politely.

He narrows his eyes suspiciously, then inches toward the doors without turning his back to me. He stops just outside of them, tilting his head subtly, clearly listening for any sign of an ambush waiting for him on the other side.

I bark out a hoarse laugh. “I know you won’t believe me, but I can assure you that you’re safer here than you’ve ever been in your life.”

He bristles and grunts again, hesitating for just a second before forcefully shoving the door open. When he sees that the kitchen on the other side is completely empty of any would-be attackers, his shoulders visibly relax.

“See?” I say softly, my hand reaching out without my permission, intent on stroking his tangled mane of hair. I catch myself at the last second, curling my fingers into a fist and yanking my hand back. Luckily, Alrick doesn’t notice.

He saunters over towards the large island counter, his head on a swivel, looking around the room the same way he did all the way down from the bedroom. I stride past him to fill the kettle and pull out my large box of various teas to give him options. I slide it across the counter towards him and he eyes it suspiciously.

My lips twitch with amusement.

“What? Do you think one of the teabags is laced with poison and it’s my diabolical plot to let you choose your own demise?” I tease. His eyes dart up to meet mine and I can see wariness and exhaustion in them. “They’re all perfectly safe. In fact, I’ll let you pick mine for me too. I wouldn’t risk poisoning myself, would I?”

Granted, there isn’t a poison I’m aware of that would stand up to the fire in my veins, but we’re still not admitting he knows that.

He chooses a cherry infused green tea for both of us and then settles onto one of the stools in front of the counter.

“Constant vigilance was the number one rule in my house. An attack can come at any time and in any form, so we always had to be suspicious and prepared.”

My heart rate spikes, and I turn away from him to put the kettle on the stovetop. I use that brief second to pull in a steadying breath before turning back around to face him.

“An attack from a dragon?” My voice is even, and Alrick’s eye contact is just as unwavering.

We stare at each other across the counter, faces stoic, breathing even. Tension rises between us like a gathering storm. This game of chicken we’re playing has impossibly high stakes, and neither one of us wants to be the one to blink first.

“Yes,” he finally answers. “Do you believe in dragons, Lord?”

Goose bumps rise along my skin. I’m just glad they’re not my scales instead. There’s a clear threat in Alrick’s voice, but my body isn’t reading it that way. My cock starts to swell and a different kind of heat churns in my gut. This is exactly why I’ve taken such care to keep my dragon under control. The beast is nothing but instincts and hormones, as if confessing to Alrick that I’m a dragon will earn me a rough fuck rather than igniting a battle between us that will ultimately end in both our demise. I can’t kill him without killing myself, and I don’t think I want to. But he doesn’t know that.

I can’t bring myself to lie either though, so instead I choose my words carefully.

“I don’t believe in the vicious, violent, uncontrollable beasts you described.”

Alrick’s expression turns even stonier, his jaw working back and forth for a moment as if he’s contemplating calling me out on the way I skirted answering the question. But after a second, he nods and doesn’t say another word on the subject.

ALRICK

I watch Lord as he moves around the kitchen, gathering mugs for us and pulling out every possible thing a person could choose to add to their tea. It’s like I told him—caution and vigilance have been drilled into my head. If I notice the way his pants hug his ass when he turns his back to me or the captivating orange hue to his irises, it’s all just part of my reconnaissance.

The teakettle whistles, and he lifts it off the burner. My gaze zeroes in on his hand wrapped comfortably around the metal handle without an oven mitt to protect his skin from the heat. If I needed confirmation of my hunch that he’s a dragon, this is close enough to a smoking gun for me.

He fills both cups and returns the kettle to the stovetop, then he grabs a cartoonish dragon shaped cookie jar out of a cupboard and places it in front of me among the rest of his offerings of milk and sugar and honey.

Come on, now he’s just taunting me with his refusal to admit what he is. I look at the cookie jar and then back at him, arching an eyebrow wordlessly. A blush rises in his cheeks and my breath catches in my throat. I didn’t think dragons could blush. I suppose it makes sense considering their human forms have all of the same physiological processes, just with a few additions of their own, like the ability to breathe fire. But there’s just something about seeing his cheeks pink and his lips twitch with a repressed, guilty smile that makes me itchy all the way down to my bones.

Vicious, killer beasts don’t blush . They just don’t.

This has to be part of his trick. He’s trying to lull me into a false sense of security. Why, I have no idea. But it’s the only explanation. Maybe he really was there when I was attacked. Maybe saving me was part of his plan so he could use me as a bargaining chip, a hostage. My muscles tighten and my hands curl into fists. My blood rushes in my ears as a lifetime of training prepares me for a fight my body is sure is coming, even if I’m still trying to work most of this out in my head.

“It was a gag gift I got as part of our family White Elephant exchange last year,” he explains, carefully removing the ceramic head and setting it aside. “Lucky for me, I have a sweet tooth, so a cookie jar was the perfect gift to end up with.”

He winks and my heart stumbles over a beat. Winking is just as uncomfortably disarming as his blushing was. Why does he have to seem so… human ? He reaches into the cookie jar and pulls one out to offer to me. I stare at it in his hand for an impossibly long second, trying to process the fact that the scent is mouthwatering, heavy with cinnamon and sugar, and it’s shaped like the backside of a cat, complete with a little X where the butt should be.

“I promise, it’s not poisoned either.” He misreads my silence, waving the cookie temptingly under my nose.

My mouth waters and I grab it from him. He watches as I take a bite. It’s perfectly soft and so deliciously sweet I can’t keep myself from moaning out loud. It’s exactly like I always imagined. Better than I imagined. This isn’t the kind of food that will make me stronger or fuel me with energy for a battle. It’s food made simply to be enjoyed. The beautiful sinfulness of gluttony and indulgence makes the next bite all the sweeter, and I groan again. I chew it slowly then dart my tongue out to lick the cinnamon off my lips.

I open my eyes to find Lord staring at me, his mouth agape and his pupils so blown they’re nearly obscuring all the color of his irises. His skin is flushed again, deeper this time, and he’s breathing a little faster. Is he… turned on?

I drop my gaze lower to find the unmistakable strain of arousal between his legs. Electricity and heat ricochet through me, settling in my gut with a hungry, needy weight.

“What is this called?” I ask, holding up the cookie, desperate to distract myself from the lust that threatens to make me do something very stupid. It has nothing to do with the dragon. It’s perfectly natural that my body would behave strangely after I nearly died and spent a week practically comatose while I healed.

Lord frowns.

“A snickerdoodle?” He answers as if he’s unsure.

“Snickerdoodle,” I repeat, a small laugh bubbling in my chest. How delightfully silly that sounds. “It’s delicious.”

“You’ve never had one before?”

I shake my head and take another bite, aware this time of how my moans affect Lord but still not doing anything to stop myself from making another porn-worthy sound as I chew it.

“Our dad is very strict about our diets.”

“Your mom never broke the rules behind his back? Slipped you and your brothers treats every now and again?” There’s affection in his voice that spins my head around again.

“She died giving birth to me.” My throat tightens around the confession.

Sympathy fills his eyes, and he reaches towards me, stopping himself before he actually manages to touch me. A small shiver runs through me and goose bumps prickle over my skin. I don’t want a dragon to touch me. Of course I don’t. But there’s a strange lurching feeling inside of me anyways, like I missed a step going down the stairs. Is a dragon’s skin hot when they’re in their human form? Is it soft or tough like their scales?

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” The sympathy in his voice sounds genuine.

I nod and stuff the rest of the cookie into my mouth in one bite.

“And now my family thinks I’m dead too. Worse, dead before I’ve even killed a dragon, so I’m also a disgrace in their eyes, lost to the afterlife, never to enter into it as the warrior I’m supposed to be.”

Lord startles back a step and then laughs with what sounds like relief.

“You’ve never killed a dragon?”

I bristle, drawing myself up to my full height. Fuck. Was this a misstep? This is what happens when I let my guard down for even half a second. Stupid snickerdoodle. Stupid confusing dragon. Now he thinks I’m weak, that I’ll be easy to kill when he decides he’s finished with whatever game he’s playing.

“Not yet,” I say in a low voice, leveling him with the most dangerous look I can muster.

His smile fades, but instead of looking afraid, he looks… horny again. My cock twitches and lust pulses through me like a tangible force. I push my stool away from the counter in a hurry and take a few steps back. I need to get out of here.

“Never mind the tea. I think I’ll just go lay down.”

Lord gives his head a small shake like he’s clearing his thoughts, then nods.

“Of course.”

I stare at him across the kitchen for another few beats, wrestling with the almost irresistible urge to get closer to him rather than running away.

“Thanks,” I say after a moment, turning on my heel and practically sprinting out of the room.