Blue Moon Dragon (13 page)

Jack ripped off his clothes before a wave of agony struck. He crawled into the bathroom before pulling to his feet in front of the mirror. His face glinted with the pale gray of taniwha scales. His hands fisted around his cock and he noticed that too glinted a pearl gray color.

Emma.

He concentrated, visualizing her in his mind. Her ripe curves. Her mouth wrapped around his swollen shaft. Jack pumped his erection, stroking with hard, even strokes. Not enough to send him over the edge but sufficient to keep the taniwha at bay. He stretched the process out for as long as he could before applying more pressure to his tip. The pleasure bubbled over, escaping his restraint, and he came with a rush in his fisted hand. As he cleaned up, Emma filled his mind.

Where the hell was she? She’d said she intended to go to the gym. He’d go there first. If anything had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

* * * * *

The guards scarcely paid her any attention. There were two of them and they resembled their clones who worked in the gym. They argued about who would take their lunch break first. Evidently, it was chocolate penis day, as well as clay pigeon shooting day, and the chef’s recipe for the truffle filling was worth fighting for the privilege.

“Toss a coin,” one said, his brawny arms and shoulders almost bursting from his blue shirt.

“Heads,” the second one called. He’d shaved his head and his scalp glowed in the artificial light. The coin glinted as it tumbled to the top of the desk. “Yes. Yes!”

Baldy left, jubilant in his victory and whistling.

“Bastard,” Brawny muttered and clamped a pair of earphones over his ears.

Emma stared at him in disfavor. Why did he bother? She could hear his loud, discordant rock from where she was sitting. She continued to eye him while stealthily wriggling her hands and fingers in an attempt to loosen her bonds.

Half an hour passed, interspersed only by the pop and crack and cheers from the shooters and their audience. Baldy returned, brandishing a chocolate penis.

“There had better be some left,” Brawny said in a testy tone and bolted out the door.

Emma continued to work toward freedom, her gaze on her minder. Baldy swiped his tongue across the tip of his chocolate cock and moaned, his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy as he savored his dessert.

Good grief
. He was taking eating to a new level. She stared, not wanting to watch but mesmerized by his performance.

His groan was an animal grunt, and when he pulled the penis from his mouth, she saw he’d nibbled off the tip. A trickle of the filling dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

Eew.
She shuddered and looked away. That was so
not
sexy.

Without warning the rope binding her hands loosened—just a fraction. Victorious, she doubled her efforts and five minutes later, one hand slid free. She drew her legs up in a stealthy fashion and unfastened the rope around her ankles.

What she needed now was a weapon.

Carefully, she scanned her surroundings. There was no way she could creep out, not with penis-sucking Baldy right near the door. But he was engrossed…

Her gaze lit on a large rock. A doorstop—something to prop open the entrance if they were bringing in or taking out new supplies. She glanced from the rock to the man’s head. An excellent weapon—if she could grab it before Baldy discovered she’d freed herself.

He continued sucking on the penis. Her lips curled in distaste while she worked on freeing her other hand. Then she blinked in astonishment. Even better! Baldy was nodding off.

She scanned the walls, the furniture and contents. Perhaps she should look in one of the brown boxes? A snore erupted from Baldy and a chocolate-colored dribble ran from the corner of his mouth. Holding her breath, she tugged open the closest box. It was full of foil packs containing pills. Emma slipped one inside her shorts pocket. A snort sounded. She froze, but when she spun to check, he was still asleep.

With her pulse racing, she stood and glided smoothly forward to scoop up the rock. It was heavier than it looked. And in truth, she wasn’t sure she could hit a sleeping Baldy over the head. As she edged closer, she saw dark chocolate smeared his cheek. That settled it—she couldn’t hit a man who resembled a defenseless kid.

Emma took another two steps and reached for the door, still holding the rock. Her free hand closed around the brass handle and twisted. The door squeaked.

Baldy jerked awake. “What?”

Emma threw the rock at him and ripped open the door. Baldy cursed. She heard a crash but didn’t stop to check the damage. Instead, she sped to the main corridor and paused to peek around the corner. Clear. She took off at a sprint in the opposite direction to the restaurant.

Jack.

She had to find Jack.

* * * * *

Jack scanned the bodies in the gym, alarm growing. Emma wasn’t here. He couldn’t smell the girly floral soap she used and he sure as hell couldn’t see her. He’d already checked the clay pigeon shooting area, but none of her friends had seen her, and she wasn’t one of those shooting.

He stalked through the restaurant, searching faces, his gut churning insistently the entire time. If anything had happened to her…

Pushing past the queue of party people at the buffet, he ignored the comments about rudeness. She had to be somewhere. Outside, he checked the bar and around the pool. Down on the beach. Worry creased his brow while the pull of the blue moon created havoc with his body, his control.

Every one of his bones ached as if he had a fever and sweat glued his shirt to his chest. He forced himself to stagger along the beach, to push past the pain that made him shiver and shake.

All he could think of was Emma. The way she smiled. The way she pressed him and ignored his bouts of surliness. The way she gave her all every time they made love.

A derisive snort escaped him. Somewhere along the line, Emma had crept into the empty spaces inside him. It was a damn uncomfortable sensation, but he’d come to enjoy her presence.

A flash of red caught his eye, and he hurried along the beach to intercept her. “Emma. Where the hell have you been?” A wave of pain doubled him over. Sex. Shit, now. Jack jerked her against his chest, shuddering at the feminine feel of her. Her sunset hair was ruffled and dirt coated one cheek. He lifted a trembling hand, battling nausea and acute stomach pangs to unbutton her shirt. A quickie to take the edge off, to stave the pain and halt the shift to taniwha. He fumbled, his nails well on the way to transformation.

“We have to go now.” Emma fought for breath, her breasts heaving, her brow moist with sweat. She glanced over her shoulder. “What are you doing? Shit! They’re coming. We’ve got to hide.”

The scent of blood distracted him, and his nostrils flared. The coppery tang was coming from her. He seized her hands and saw her wrists were bloodied when she pushed against his chest.

“What happened?” Damn, his voice was changing. Desperation swelled along with pain. Sex.
Now
.

“Run.” Emma grabbed his forearm. “They’re after me.”

A gunshot punctuated her words, sounding much like the clay pigeon shooters, but Emma took off like a startled gazelle. She sprinted across the sand toward the river mouth. Jack lumbered after her, trying to focus on moving one foot after the other. Waves of torment engulfed him, sharp and intense. His hands had turned. If the transformation progressed much further he wouldn’t be able to come back—not for twenty-four hours.

The soft sand changed to oozing mud. It sucked at his sandaled feet and slowed his progress. Fighting the aches and throbs of protesting muscles, Jack paused to rip off his shirt and yank off his leather sandals. Pearly scales already covered his chest, ranging over more skin with each gathering minute. He glanced at Emma as she darted between two mangrove trees. His brave and determined Emma. He hobbled after her, struggling past the grasping branches of the mangrove trees that gouged his limbs.

The pungent scent of the mud and the salty tang of the water called his dragon soul.

Emma.

Regret pierced him along with sorrow, and in that moment, he realized he cared more for her than he ever had for another woman. And he was going to lose her, if he didn’t scare her to death first.

Jack’s senses sharpened. The thudding of running feet following them continued, the harsh sound of the men’s breathing a signal to hurry.

“Emma,” he growled. “Into the water.”

Her face whitened noticeably. “No, I can’t swim.”

But he could since taniwhas—the species he belonged to—were creatures of the water. “Climb on my back.” He had to concentrate to force out the words.

Emma hesitated but the crack of a firing gun—closer now and not of the clay pigeon variety—galvanized her to action.

Jack ripped off his remaining clothes and waded into the water. “Come.” His low, growly voice was barely recognizable. He glanced at Emma and winced.

“W-what is happening to you?” The clear shock on her face told him the transformation from man to taniwha had progressed enough to traumatize a human. His gut burned, his throat tightened with the need to rail at fate. No time to explain. Their pursuers were still crashing through the undergrowth, coming closer, closer, closer.

He grabbed Emma and tugged her resisting body into deeper water.

“No. No.” She attempted to dig in her heels, panic lending her strength. The men’s shouts sounded near as they searched for them amongst the mangroves.

Knowing he didn’t have another option, he allowed the image of his dragon to form in his mind. Muscles and bones lengthened, his face changed, elongating to fit the sharp teeth and fangs that developed in his mouth. His nostrils changed shape, as did his eyes. A long tail formed, making him appear larger than his normal six foot two. His arms and legs changed into strong, webbed limbs suitable for swimming.

Fully shifted, the taniwha resembled a water beast, half dragon, half Loch Ness monster in appearance, capable of inflicting mortal wounds to enemies. He waded deeper into the water, and Emma started to cling instead of attempting to flee.

Jack filled his lungs with air and began to swim. He kept just below the surface instead of diving into the watery depths as he normally would if he was on his own. Emma needed to breathe but if he kept his body low, she wouldn’t be too visible. He headed for the mainland, his heart heavy.

Once they arrived on the other side, things would change with Emma. Her hands gripped him, fingernails digging into his hide, but after her initial gasp, she hadn’t uttered a word.

Shock
, he thought. She’d fear him now, and he hated the idea. Too late, he realized he wanted her in his life. He shied from the word love, but it felt uncomfortably close to the emotion he swore he’d never let into his life again.

* * * * *

Surreal. She was shooting through the water on the back of a beast. And that beast was Jack.

George Taniwha Investigators and Security.

Emma’s heart thumped erratically, her breath catching as the waves rushed over Jack’s back and splashed her chest. She scrubbed the water from her face and coughed as she swallowed a mouthful. Despite her fear, exhilaration echoed her distress.

The taniwha part of the company name was real. She was riding on the back of a dragon. Jack was a taniwha. He’d shifted and grabbed her before escape entered her head. She wrinkled her nose. Could be worse. She’d glimpsed his teeth. Children’s storybooks hadn’t exaggerated the sharp fangs.

Another wave slapped her in the face. An undignified screech emerged, and she wrapped her hands around Jack’s neck. The water level crept higher. Reality check! She was in the middle of the bloody sea. God, she hated deep water.

Instinctively, she clung tighter, curling her fingers into the slippery flesh of the taniwha—Jack. Bands of panic clamped her chest, stealing her breath. She was gonna drown and no one would ever learn of her fate. They’d go back to the island. Yes.
Great idea
. She glanced over her shoulder and her shoulders slumped. The three men brandishing guns on the shoreline put a realistic spin on the situation. They didn’t seem worried about the guests, although most were at lunch or at the clay pigeon shooting and wouldn’t notice the danger in their midst.

No, returning wasn’t an option.

She gripped Jack with her knees and kept her gaze off her the endless expanse of water. How fast did a taniwha swim anyway? Faster than a boat?

Emma concentrated on the mainland, all the while praying they’d get there quick. She wondered about George and his sons. George’s wife Meri. Were they all taniwha? Did they look like Jack?

The taniwha changed direction without warning, and Emma dug her fingers into the dragon’s hide for greater purchase. Alarm almost choked her until she realized Jack was heading for a part of the coast covered in bush. The first thing she intended to do was get her feet on solid ground. She might even kiss the solid surface. The waves increased in size without warning.

Emma shrieked as one broke over her head. Panicked, she struggled, one hand loosening its grip on Jack to flail to the surface. Air. She needed air now.

A growl filled the air, vibrating through her ears in sharp warning. Then, her head cleared the water and she sucked in a hoarse breath. Another wave crashed to shore but this one struck at shoulder level.

The taniwha swam then stood at the water’s edge, four powerful limbs taking them to shore. Emma attempted to scramble off the creature’s back but Jack roared. She froze in place, unsure of what to do next.

Jack lumbered up the beach with her on his back. He was a pretty color—reminding her of the inside of a green-lipped mussel shell—pearly gray with hints of pink and green. The color was the one attractive thing about the dragon. Emma found it hard to believe Jack and the taniwha were one. Jack was a man to die for. The taniwha was…had a face only a mother could love, yet they inhabited the same being. Her mind stuttered and the blip in her thought processes cleared.

They were the same, and she really, really liked Jack.