Coercion: Book One of Three: A BBW Serial Romance (Montana Dragons 1) (3 page)

D
rake stared
down at his new wife lying on the ground at his feet for the second time in less than an hour.

“Well, damn,” he muttered.

He scooped her unresisting body into his arms and carried her into the great room, feeling a low pull of satisfaction at the thickness of her frame. She might be on the clumsy side and prone to scare easily, but she was sturdy. And if there was one thing a dragon needed in a mate, it was sturdiness.

Even now, as her soft, full breasts pressed against his chest, he felt his cock twitch and swell. When the Stone's had sent word to his valet on the ground requesting a meeting with him weeks before, he'd almost dismissed them entirely. He was in a difficult position to be sure, but not one so desperate as to accept just any woman as his mate. That said, the lack of suitable prospects so far was disappointing to say the least.

He'd long since given up on finding a relationship like that of his parents. One built on rock solid love and mutual respect.

What he did want was someone who could slake his lust and who he didn’t have to fear killing in the process. That left humans out altogether if he wanted any degree of satisfaction, and since the rest of the dragons abroad were related in some way or another, that left only other shifters. What he hadn't realized was that his kind had developed a reputation amongst them, and it wasn't a good one.

So he'd left the moors of Scotland for the New World in hopes of finding a suitable mate who didn't have preconceived notions, but that had proved no easier here than back home.

Now, as he stood with his wife in his arms, blood running hot at the scent of her, he felt even surer.

She was his and he wasn't going to let her go.

Willa chose that moment to stir, and her eyes fluttered open. When she realized he held her, she jerked back in an effort to get down, but he held firm.

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you, little wolf," he murmured, setting her gently on a settee in front of the hearth fire and strategically away from the throne of skulls.

Blasted Etienne, anyway. He'd given him the god-awful thing as a gag birthday gift a few months back, but clearly the humor didn't translate to those outside the dragon circle. He had half a mind to call the bastard up right now and have him come take it to his own home and see what it did for his sex life.

What was the French word for cock-block again?

"D-did you eat all those people?" Willa asked, her voice barely a whisper as she craned her neck to peer over the back of the settee he'd laid her on.

Despite the streaks of dried mud on her face, he finally got a full on, proper look at her by the bright light of the fire. She was far from plain. In fact, her face was the kind that artists dreamt of painting, and he had to clench his fist to keep from tracing the full bow of her top lip.

He realized she was still waiting for his answer about the throne, and he shook his head briskly. “No, of course I didn’t eat them,” he said, glad to be able to waylay this one fear, at least. “If I had, I'd have eaten the skulls, too," he added absently.

Her already pale cheeks went chalky-white and he realized his mistake.

"Not that I eat people. I don't."
Unless they deserved it
, he thought grimly, but no good could come of saying that out loud. "Like many of your kind, we hunt wild game in our dragon forms, and eat regular food the rest of the time." He considered explaining about his friend's warped sense of humor, then decided better of it, loath to talk about Etienne at all for some reason. "Maybe we should have a snifter of brandy to steady your nerves?"

She nodded, and her gaze drifted from his face down his chest, before freezing on his navel.

"And maybe get a shirt?” she asked hopefully. “For both of us?"

His lips twitched as he noted her cheeks turning pink now.

She was shy. That was interesting and something he hoped to explore sometime soon.

But not today. Today, they needed to come to some sort of understanding of how this would all play out.

And once that was done? He needed to schedule some face time with his in-laws. Because, whether she wanted to accept it or not, Willa Stone was his now. Her parents had hurt her and betrayed her trust.

That slight would not go unpunished.

He crossed the room and bent to pull two robes from the cedar chest in the corner. His would be far too large for her, but at least she would be covered.

He slipped the garment on and belted it loosely before returning to stand over her.

"Here you go. I'd assumed you would bring your clothes when you moved in, but given how things went down..." He trailed off and noted the pain bracketing her mouth at the reminder of the betrayal. "We'll go to town in the next day or two and get you a new wardrobe. In the meantime, let’s eat something. Then, we can talk, all right?"

She nodded and turned to face away from him as she slipped the robe on. He looked away, but not before he caught sight of a swatch of creamy, white skin, and the slope of her shoulder.

He appreciated that she wasn't all hard edges and sinew. She had a body that made him want to sink in and stay awhile. The second the thought of being inside her crossed his mind, a searing, hot blast of need pulsed through him and he pinched his eyes closed in concentration, willing it away.

It had been months...nearly a year since he'd had any satisfaction beyond his own hand, and before that, his interludes were both few and far between, and unsatisfactory. A release of tension, at best.

Dragons were highly sexual and, if kept from regular mating, became irritable. Sometimes, downright violent. He'd managed to keep himself in check, but the need had been getting stronger and stronger.

And still, it had never hit him like this.

He clenched his jaw and opened his eyes to find Willa staring up at him, her gaze trained on his mouth.

"What are you looking at, little wolf?" he asked, his voice all grit as he struggled to control the beast in him clamoring to get out and taste…touch…take.

"N-nothing," she stuttered, before wheeling around so fast, her robe swirled up behind her like a puff of black smoke at a magic show. "Let's go eat."

He paused for another second to center himself and then edged around her to lead her into the kitchen. As they stepped through the doorway, she let out a low exclamation.

"Something wrong?" he asked, frowning.

She shook her head and gave him the barest glimmer of a puzzled smile. "No, actually." She gazed around the gourmet kitchen, eyeing the convection ovens and the gleaming brass pots and pans. "This is really nice. I guess I thought..." She tucked a strand of tawny hair behind one ear.

"You thought the entire place was going to be like the inside of a dungeon?" he asked.

"Well, I mean, judging by the exterior and what I'd seen so far, that's not exactly a leap," she said with a shrug.

"I like the great room to fit me in any form, and those wings and claws are hell on even the hardest of woods and sturdiest of drywall. But the rest of the house is quite nice, you'll find, and built with human comforts in mind."

He gestured for her to sit at the granite island as he quickly prepared a pile of roast beef sandwiches. True to his word, once he'd piled the bread high with glossy, rare meat and thick slices of tomato, he snagged a bottle of brandy from the cabinet.

"Dinner is served,” he said, laying the feast out in front of them.

She picked up her sandwich gingerly at first, squinting at it like she was checking for poison, but then tucked in.

For the next five minutes, they ate in silence, but he could almost hear the gears of her mind grinding. She was going with the flow. For now. But he’d seen sparks of spunk and he knew he was on borrowed time. If he could get her to agree to stay for a day or two, surely she would get past her fear and realize she’d lucked into a great situation.

He was a skilled lover, a good provider, and a loyal protector. Plus, he didn’t want to brag, but she’d traded up big time. He was a dragon, for god’s sake. The true king of beasts.

Besides, her parents had all but sold her to him. What did she have to go back to at this point?

She popped the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth and then drained her brandy in one, long swallow, wincing as it blazed a path down her throat.

"Thank you,” she croaked, swiping the back of her hand over her mouth. “It was delicious, and I really appreciate how nice you're being, considering you didn't sign on for any of this either. But I think it's time we talk about what we're going to do now.” A hopeful smile trembled on her lips and he steeled himself for the begging. “Obviously, I can't stay here, Drake."

He pushed his half empty plate away and stood, already impatient with the way this was going.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, and a storm is brewing out there. Obviously you can’t leave right now, either,” he reasoned. “Besides, where would you go?”

She flinched but then stiffened her chin and nodded. “You’re right on that count. I suppose I’m truly alone in the world right now.”

“No, little wolf.” He reached out and cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. To feel the truth of his words. “You have me.”

She wet her lips and the sight of her tiny, pink tongue sent another knee-buckling wave of lust coursing through him.

Lucky for him, she seemed totally unaware of his ever-worsening condition, or she surely would’ve run away screaming.

“If you promise to take me to see my parents tomorrow, and to let me sleep in a separate room, I will agree to stay the night.”

And here came the rub.

He drummed his fingers on the countertop, weighing his words carefully, knowing she wasn’t going to like them one bit.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t make that promise.”

“Which one?”

“Either of them, frankly.”

She had to sleep in his room, and he wouldn’t be taking her to see her parents for a long time. At least, not until he determined that they weren’t a threat to her.

She tugged the robe more tightly around her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s not the way compromises work.”

“I never said I was going to compromise,” he reminded her. “I have legal documents that your parents signed and, at this point, I’m going to need to hold you to them.”

He wished he could explain more, but telling her his reasons for denying her requests would only scare her, and he’d done more than enough of that this night.

“It’s late. Let me show you to my room. You have my word, I won’t force myself upon you.”

He had no doubt that the day when that wouldn’t be necessary would come soon. The chemistry between them was almost palpable, and if she could set aside her fear, she would feel it too. But for now, he would give her as much space as he was able to.

“Do I have a choice in this, Drake? Any choice at all?” she asked softly.

He was surprised to find himself wishing she did. That he could at least give her the chance to get used to the place, and him, before sleeping in his bed. But that was a risk he couldn’t take.

“No.”

She nodded, and her eyes went cold in a way that chilled him to the bone. “Then lead the way, Master. Or do you prefer ‘Your Highness’?”

She stood and strode across the room, regal as royalty herself, before stopping at the bottom of the wide, stone staircase.

He passed her and climbed up the stairs to his bedroom, swinging the door open and then waving her in.

She gasped as she slipped by him, and then stopped short.

He took a cursory look at the room and tried to see it through her eyes.

It
was
a little much. The bed was large. The size of a swimming pool, to be precise.

And then there was the actual swimming pool.

It was oval in shape and while half was indoors, the other half jutted out onto the mountain, with a pane of glass splitting it.

“When the sky is clear, I swim underneath the window and float out under the stars,” he murmured softly.

She cleared her throat and shuffled further into the room. “Well, that’s nice for you,” she said primly. “And should I assume by the size of the bed that you sleep as a dragon?” She tried to play it off like that didn’t matter one way or another to her, but her voice had gone from cold to shrill with nerves again.

“No,” he said with a chuckle. “Not usually. I just like to spread out.”

She seemed slightly mollified by that, some of the fear leaving her eyes. “We’ll make a wall of pillows, then. You stay on your half, I’ll stay on mine. And no ‘spreading out’,” she warned, a lethal gleam in her eye.

He bit back a grin and snapped off a quick salute. She was probably pretty badass in the wolf-shifter community, and it was obviously a struggle being so physically outmatched. He tried to imagine dealing with a creature who could so handily defeat him, and his gut clenched at the thought.

Fuck that noise.

It was good to be king.

“If you’d like to take a shower or bath before bed to get the last of the mud off, feel free. I’ll leave a t-shirt and some boxer shorts inside the first set of doors there for you.” He gestured toward the bathroom and her eyes lit up with relief and something else that had his dragon senses tingling.

“Yes. Yes, I think I will.” She hurried toward the bathroom but he called softly after her.

“And Willa?”

She peered over her shoulder at him questioningly.

“Don’t even think about trying to get out the window in there. It looks like a manageable drop to the ground below, but I can almost guarantee it will net you a broken back and a long recovery, even for a shifter.”

She growled a string of curse words under her breath and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

The giant grandfather clock in the corner chimed loudly, harkening their two-hour anniversary, and his lips twisted into a sardonic smile.

No place to go from here but up.