B00CGOH3US EBOK (14 page)

"See. I'm fine and it tastes delicious." She groped around in her satchel and pulled out another apple, offering it to him. "Want one?"

He looked horrified, as if she were offering him
The
apple. She had half a mind to check around for a big snake whispering,
Go ahead. Take a bite. What harm can it do?
The wily old serpent must've been somewhere close by, because the devil in her had her smiling her sweetest, most innocent smile and holding the apple out to him.

"I dare you."

Baelin's eyes narrowed, recognizing the challenge for what it was. He snatched the apple from her and took a bite, the crunch loud in the silence of the forest. He chewed slowly and swallowed with great care.

Satisfied when he didn't immediately suffer death by fresh produce, he began walking again. Casting a sideways glance at his profile, Jill watched him take another bite. Not one to rub in a small victory, she took satisfaction in the look of pleasure on his face and found herself captivated by the way the tendons in his jaw worked as he chewed. Heavens to Betsy, even his face had muscles.

He took another bite and juice squirted down his chin. When he licked it off, her fascination turned to shock.

"What the heck was that?"

Baelin stopped in mid-chew and glanced at her, his expression cautious. "What?"

"That thing that just came out of your mouth. What is the deal with your tongue?"

"'Tis naught." He turned his attention to the path ahead of them, refusing to look at her as he picked up the pace. She had to hurtle over a fallen tree before she caught up with him.

"Nothing my Aunt Fanny. That looked suspiciously like a forked snake's tongue."

He sighed and stopped walking. "You already know I retain some of my dragon traits in my human form. That my tongue is forked should not shock you so."

"Wings on your back, fireballs in your lungs, acid in your blood, and now a dragon's tongue in your mouth. What else on you failed to make the transformation?"

Her gaze raked him from head to toe, before coming to a screeching halt at his crotch. Her memory recalled in intimate detail the first night when he'd stood before her naked in the firelight. There was no doubt just how nicely his male anatomy had made the transformation. No sirree Bob, definitely no dragon remnants left there. Baelin's impressive package had made the shift just fine—every red-blooded, glorious, male inch of him.

When she realized what she was doing, her eyes shot back to his face to find him watching her intently. She felt herself blush, embarrassed to be caught ogling him once again.

This time she was the one who started them walking again, but she was so distracted she had difficulty maneuvering around several bushes and nearly ran into a small tree. Try as she might, she was unable to get the image of his nude body or his tongue out of her mind.

His forked tongue.

What would it feel like if he kissed her with it? How would it feel in her mouth?

On her body?

In
her body?

A burst of fire shot down between her legs. Jill groaned. Well, if this just wasn't the most warped thing she could imagine. Her, lusting after dragon-man. What in the world was wrong with her? She'd never been into kink and yet here she was, all hot and bothered over a walking, talking human iguana.

Baelin's hand on her shoulder startled her and brought her face to face with the object of her raging libido.

"Are you unwell?" he asked. Concern filled his eyes—eyes like pools of rich, creamy chocolate she could easily drown in.

"I'm fine. Just having a momentary lapse of sanity, that's all."

He nodded in understanding. "'Tis probably the apple. I warned you it was unwise to eat it uncooked." To prove his point, he tossed his half-eaten fruit into the forest.

"Oh, believe me. It has nothing to do with the apple," she mumbled.

But he wasn't paying attention to her. Instead, he stared into the woods in the direction where his apple had disappeared. She craned her neck to see what he was looking at, but all she saw were trees, trees, and more trees.

Finally, he urged her to resume walking with a gentle push on her shoulder. "Come, we had best keep moving."

A twinge raced down her arm from where his fingers brushed her, making the tips of her breasts tighten. It amazed her how a slight touch could carry such a spark.

"Good idea."

And it was probably a good idea to get her mind off hunky dragon men with wicked sex toys for tongues.

As they trudged through the forest, she could feel the tension radiating off him. Why? Was it because she'd glimpsed the briefest hint of desire in his eyes and he was feeling as awkward as she was? Or had it been nothing more than her twisted imagination? Probably best not to examine that bizarre train of thought.

But then he jerked her to his side, sending a thrill rippling through her body. Was he going to kiss her now? Did she want him to?

"Baelin…"

"Silence!" He hissed.

"Wha—"

He slapped his hand over her mouth so fast, she nearly choked on the air forced down her throat.

"Silence, woman. We are being followed."

Any desire she felt died in an instant. All she could do was make a garbled sound until he finally removed his hand.

"How do you know?" she whispered as her gaze darted around the forest, checking each tree and bush for someone lurking in the shadows.

"I can smell them."

"Smell them? What are you, part bloodhound now?"

Ignoring her comment, he scrutinized the area around them from beneath hooded eyes. "They have been following us for quite some time, mayhap since we broke camp this morn."

She didn't know whether to be scared or angry. "But that was hours ago. Why didn't you say something before?"

"I had hoped I was wrong, but I fear I am not."

The little hairs on the back of her neck prickled. "I take it this is not a good thing?"

"I have no desire to find out."

Baelin gripped her by her upper arm, guiding her between trees and underbrush. His other hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at any moment.

Her mouth went dry at the thought he might actually have to. The idea of a knight in shining armor ready to defend her was a heady thing, but the imminent reality of it—that if he drew his sword, it would not be for show—was something entirely different.

She attempted to move as quickly and quietly as possible, but every step she took snapped a twig or crunched dry leaves beneath her feet. Her breathing came in rasps and pants, sounding louder the more she tried to silence it.

From behind a tree, a man stepped in front of them, blocking their way. Savage and half wild, his beard was matted and his clothing stained and worn.

Baelin stopped, tensing at her side. She wondered why. After all, there was only one of him and two of them. Then one by one, more rough-looking men surrounded them, dark specters stepping out of the forest shadows. She counted five, but was afraid to turn around to see if there were more. Five was too many already.

No words were uttered, no demands made. The malicious intent of this scraggly band was evident in their cold, hard stares.

Shoving her behind him, Baelin's blade hissed from the scabbard. Two of the men charged him at once and the clang of metal against metal rang through the forest.

Jill used a tree to shield herself as he fought them, taking on each man as they attacked. Even to her inexperienced eye, she could tell these were not skilled swordsmen or practiced knights. By contrast, Baelin was fluid motion, his movements graceful, his blade glinting in the stray beams of sunlight filtering through the trees.

Two of men shifted behind Baelin while he fended off the other three. Jill panicked, wanting to help him, but she knew she would just get in the way. Her throat constricted, the urge to call out a warning to him nearly choking her, but she was afraid it would only distract him.

There was no need. Baelin seemed to sense their every movement before they made it. He whirled and with a sickening thud, chopped off one man's arm above the elbow. Blood spurted and pulsed from the severed limb, spraying the dry leaves on the ground as the man screamed, clutching at what was left of his arm.

Baelin did not pause. His blade sliced again, slitting open the stomach of another. Jill gagged as the man's intestines spilled from the gaping wound like ground beef from a butcher's meat grinder. Paralyzed, she stood transfixed, her mind frozen to the sight. It was like watching a B-horror movie, only these weren't bad actors playing parts. They were real flesh and blood men, dying in front of her eyes at the hand of the man sworn to protect her.

Two of them engaged Baelin as one shouted, "Get the woman!"

The third remaining man turned his attention to her with wild, crazed eyes.

Run
, she commanded her shaking legs.
Run now or you will die here
.

Jill bolted into the trees, hoping against hope the man would not follow. The crash of his body through the underbrush told her that hope was in vain. As she raced through the trees, low hanging branches and thorny bushes snatched at her gown, as if deliberately trying to slow her down and prevent her escape.

"No!" she screamed as she was grabbed by the hair and jerked back against the man's hard body, a sharp blade pressed at her throat. "Please, don't hurt me."

"Ye're going to pay dearly for what yer man has done to mine." His foul breath hissed against the side of her face. "Ye'll wish ye were dead long afore we let ye breathe yer last."

He forced her back toward the others, dragging her through the trees by her hair.

"Unhand her!" Baelin shouted as the other two bandits abandoned the fight and joined the man who'd captured her.

The man twisted Jill around, holding her as a shield before him. "Not bloody likely. Drop yer sword or I'll slit her throat right afore yer eyes."

Baelin stood motionless, the rapid rise and fall of his mail-covered chest the only movement in his rigid frame. Growling low in his throat, he tossed his sword aside.

The man chuckled as he and the others backed away, dragging her with them into the woods. "Don't worry. We'll let her go—after we're done with her. But don't ye be thinkin' to follow us. If we catch sight of ye, the woman is as good as dead."

Baelin's eyes blazed, the golden fire within flaring with his rage. He reached up slowly and released the clasp on his cloak, letting the voluminous garment fall to the forest floor in a puddle at his feet. The dragon wings on his back unfolded and he made an inhuman sound, the warning hiss of a predatory animal about to strike.

The man holding her trembled. "Blessed Mother Mary."

Baelin advanced, his wings spread wide, his white surcoat splattered with blood, his fingers curved into claws at his side.

In his panic, the man stumbled and lost his grip on her. Jill shoved herself away from him. She tried to run as he made a desperate lunge for her. She fell with a thud, then clawed at the leaf-covered ground, kicking with her feet to escape him.

"Devil's whore!" he shrieked as he crawled up her body.

She turned just as the man raised his arm, a dagger clutched in his hand.

Baelin roared. A blinding flash of light flared as a fireball shot out of his mouth, blasting the man off his knees and slamming him into a tree. The bandit's cry of agony rose up into the forest canopy and the stench of burning flesh filled the air.

He spun as flames consumed his ragged clothing, igniting dry brush as he passed. Stumbling, he reached out blindly with flaming fingers before collapsing to the ground.

Unlike his two companions who'd fled into the forest, Jill couldn't move. She couldn't make a sound. All she could do was stare in detached horror at the body as it burned at her feet, a smoking, blackened husk that no longer looked human.

At the sound of crunching leaves, she tore her gaze away and watched as Baelin walked slowly toward her, his blood-covered hand outstretched.

Only then did she scream.

He ran as fast as he could, but gained no ground.

The blood-soaked earth sucked at his feet and the weight of his mail pressed down on him. His sword arm ached, not that he'd had a chance to use it. The weapon was useless against a dragon.

The trees. There would be protection in the trees. But the forest was so far away. He was never going to reach it in time. Even now, he could feel the heat of the beast at his back, coming for him.

Osmund raced ahead.

Run! he shouted. One of us must survive.

Hot. So hot. No air left to breathe. Smoke and heat choking him, smothering him. The steady beat of death on the wind drummed in his ears, coming closer, ever closer. A brave knight would turn and face death with honor and bravery. But he was not that brave. He had yet to see his first battle, had yet to kill another.