Dragos Takes a Holiday (Elder Races #6.5)(14)

After all, young parents move to the ’burbs all the time, for all kinds of reasons. To get away from crime, to get away from the noise and crowdedness of the city. To raise their children in greater peace and safety, and to give them greater freedom to roam.

Raising a magic baby dragon wasn’t so very different.

She thought of the long, lone flights Dragos took periodically to relieve the stresses of city life.

She said, “This is going to be good for all of us.”

“I think it will too. I’m starting to look forward to it.” He took the last bite of his lobster and set his fork down. “Do you want dessert or coffee?”

While Dragos didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, she did, and he often chose to have a cheese plate and port to keep her company. She shrugged. “I could take it or leave it.”

“Then come on.” He stood and held out a hand.

Obligingly, she slid out of her seat and slipped her fingers into his grasp. “We haven’t paid yet. What are we doing?”

He slanted a black eyebrow at her. “We’re dancing.”

She went into delighted shock. He led her onto the dance floor.

Chapter Five

No, Dragos didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, but Pia made it easy for him. Whenever he did something for her, she lit up with pleasure. Her midnight-violet eyes sparkled, and joy glowed from her skin. Canny businessman that he was, he invested in her happiness and reaped the returns in bright laughter, soft smiles, gentle touches and impulsive hugs.

His world turned grim when she was unhappy, and his thoughts became aggressive and bladelike. He grew intolerant and quick to slash out. He did not trust a world that had the audacity to hurt his mate. Her happiness filled him with contentment.

What was a little dancing compared to that?

They reached the crowded floor. Without the discipline and structure of a waltz, he wasn’t sure what he should do. He stood, hands on his hips, as he studied the movements of the other dancers. Some of them looked like they had been tasered and were shuddering just before they collapsed.

That, he would not do. Could not.

Pia touched his biceps. When he looked down at her, her face brimmed with… Okay, that was more than just joy. That was laughter, too.

“Just move.” She put her hands on his hips. “Don’t overthink it. Listen to the music, do what you want and be natural.”

Do what you want. Those instructions were easy enough to follow.

He tugged her close, and she came readily to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. However, she did more than just hug him. She rubbed her slender, curvy body against his rhythmically, twisting and swaying in time to the music, and Dragos’s opinion about dancing underwent a drastic change.

He stared at the sinfully gorgeous woman in his arms. She slid along his body with such sensuous grace she set his skin smoldering.

“You know, Dragos,” she said with an upward glance and a twinkle, “when two people are dancing, it usually requires both of them to do something.”

At her words, his attention snapped to the music. The song was a popular one, bright, quirky and with a strong, tribal beat. He caught the rhythm of it and began to move, and it wiped the laughter off Pia’s face.

Holding her gaze, he set his hands on her hips and guided her to move with him. They swayed and undulated together. After a year of living as mates, he was so attuned to her, he could anticipate what she did. Ever the aggressor, he bent forward, and she bowed back. She draped one arm around his neck, her gaze never leaving his.

The music changed, and the next song was darker, smokier. It wormed its way into his blood, and the rest of the world fell away. Their movements together, hip to hip and thigh to thigh, were as necessary and as elemental as sex. The connection between them was always present, but now it grew bright and taut like a bridge of fire.

Sometimes he grew afraid that he burned too hot, that the roar he felt in his blood for her would overwhelm or frighten her, but she never turned from him or backed away. Instead she met his fire with a fierce passion of her own, her cooler, moonlit energy burnishing under the force of his attention until she shone.

She straightened and tugged at the same time, and he bent his head. She whispered in his ear, “If you don’t take me out of here, I’m going to come right on the dance floor.”

Each word caressed his ear. Her lips were trembling.

It doused him in a sheet of flame. He took her arm and led her off the floor. Everything happened from a distance, on the other side of the urgency that pounded in his body.

To the exit. Someone came and bleated at him. Their server. He dug in his pocket and shoved cash at her without counting it. The server stepped back, beaming.

Away from the beach, toward the car.

The sun had set while they ate their dinner. White light from halogen street lamps threw pools of light along the streets and the beach, heightening the darkness beyond. Pia almost stumbled, but his tight hold wouldn’t let her. She looked etched, the contours of her face marked with tension. His sharp predator’s eye caught the subtle shift of her slender throat muscles as she swallowed. Her scent was feminine and musky at once, and he listened to the tiny friction of her silk dress against her skin.

They reached the Mercedes. As he looked at it he thought of the myriad, complex movements it would take to drive the machine. How mundane. How human. The dragon rebelled at the thought.