Last Immortal Dragon (Gray Back Bears #6)(17)

Damon leaned forward and hooked his arm under the backs of her knees, then picked her up. He carried her as a groom carried a bride over the threshold. His gait was easy and unhurried, and he rested his cheek against her hairline as he took her out of the kitchen and down a hallway lit only by an occasional chandelier. There were no windows to allow in natural sunlight, and the farther he walked, the darker and colder it became.

He hadn’t shaved this morning, and the short scruff on his jaw scratched against her forehead as he took a right down another hallway, this one even darker than the last. Here the walls were illuminated by old-fashioned candle lanterns that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck with familiarity.

“Are you taking me to your lair?” she asked quietly, as if the volume of her voice would ruin the magic of this moment.

“I am, fair maiden. Do you oppose?”

She smiled at his formal words with their edge of teasing. Perhaps others didn’t understand Damon’s subtle humor, but she did. She smiled up at him and shook her head. “Nae, savage dragon. Take me to your lair with haste, for I oppose you not.”

The glow of the candle lanterns threw shadows across his face, making his eyes look stark in contrast. She should be scared with him looking so fierce and otherworldly, but all she could think right now was how strikingly handsome he was.

She brushed her fingertip across his cheek, just under the blazing color. His long pupils contracted and dilated between lanterns, and she smiled proudly at him. “My dragon,” she murmured.

“Not even bedded yet and already possessive.” His lips lifted at the corners and gave her a brief view of those dimples she was beginning to breathe for.

Damon angled his body and pushed against a towering, ancient wooden door. Inside, he set her on her feet and eased back by inches, inhuman eyes intent on her.

It was dark in here, and she had to wait for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, she was stunned. She stepped forward into the cavernous room. It was enormous and carved into the cliff. Behind a huge bed was nothing but a dark, dripping, jagged rock face. Two sides of the room seemed to be made of black-out panels that had been lowered to block out the sunlight. He didn’t move to open them though, and it struck her that he cared what she thought of his lair the way it was. Cold with a constant drip drip sound coming from the far wall. For how big the room was, there was very little furniture, and the floor under her bare feet was made of cobblestone.

“I know it’s not as warm as a bear’s den. It’s probably unnaturally uncomfortable to you,” Damon said low, his eyes still trained on her.

She shook her head. “I’ve never seen any place like this,” she said. Her words echoed through the room and bounced back to them. She grinned and called, “Hellooooo!” Hellooo, hellooo, hellooo. “You want to know my favorite part about this room?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes. Tell me.”

“You didn’t make your bed.”

He huffed a surprised laugh and ran a hand through his sleep mussed hair. He cast the unmade bed a self-deprecating look and shook his head. “Mason is the only one who has ever been in here, so there doesn’t feel like a need to waste the energy on making it.”

“I don’t make my bed either. Do you want to know my second favorite part about this room?”

He dipped his chin once, his eyes going serious.

“I like that besides you, only Mason has seen it.”

“And now you.”

She canted her head and smiled. “Exactly.”

“Possessive,” he accused.

“Slob,” she retorted.

His smile lifted and fell. “Sexy,” he rumbled low, stalking her as she backed playfully toward the bed.

When the backs of her legs hit the carved wooden footboard, she folded onto the plush mattress behind her, never taking her gaze from his as he approached. He was all silver eyes and flexing muscles with every lithe step he took. Even with his uneven, scarred skin, Damon was beautiful in ways that made her heart stutter. “Mine,” she whispered.

His lips crashed onto hers as he hovered over her, keeping his body weight from pressing her into the comforter. Her legs spread for him instinctively, just to give him room to settle against the apex between her thighs. Rolling his hips, Damon pressed his erection right at the spot she was most sensitive. Arching her back against how good he felt right there, she offered him her neck, something she’d never done for another man.

A satisfied rumble vibrated from Damon’s chest and made a quick puh, puh, puh sensation against her skin. “Fearsome grizzly, offering your submission so soon.” Damon leaned forward and clamped his teeth onto her neck, hard enough to draw a moan from her lips, but not hard enough to break the skin. He released her and murmured against the base of her throat, “No need to submit to me, love. I like you how you are.”

Love. The way he uttered that word dumped heat between her legs. She wanted to feel the burn of his hot skin against hers. As if he could read her thoughts, he pulled the hem of her shirt upward and over her head in one smooth motion, then unsnapped the back clasp of her bra with an easy snick. With one finger, he hooked the front of her open bra and pulled it from her arms. He blinked slowly as he dropped her undergarment off the edge of the bed, then dragged his gaze back to her bare breasts. Now the insecurity set in. Damon had lived for eons and had likely been with countless women over the course of his existence, while she was a novice who, at age thirty, had only managed to sleep with one college boyfriend and her crew mates. And none of those times had she encouraged them to look at her body.