Page 27 of Kiss of Frost

Panic blossomed in my chest. “I’m sort of on a tight schedule right now.” And, oh gods, what would the elders say? My mind dumped me back in front of them, their disapproving eyes fixed on me as I explained why I’d returned home with not one but two dragon mates. “Well, you see, gentlemen, the ice dragon turned out to be a strapping lumbersexual…”

The panic spiked into something hot and nauseating. I swayed on my feet as the protein bar I’d stuffed down earlier threatened to come back up.

Callum moved before I could, bending and sweeping me into his arms.

“I’m okay,” I said, pushing against his shoulder.

“Wheesht,” he said mildly, carrying me to the bed. He deposited me on the edge and gently guided my upper body down until my head was between my knees. “Deep breaths now,” he said, the bed sinking as he sat beside me and rubbed a gentle palm over my back. “In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I did as he said, embarrassment mingling with something warm and welcome that set my limbs tingling. Comfort, I realized. Had anyone ever comforted me this way? Cared for me when I needed it? My parents had always seen to it that I was looked after, but they’d been too busy leading our house to take care of everyday chores like nursing a child through illness. Those sorts of tasks had fallen to servants. Unbidden, a memory flowed through my mind, carrying me on short, determined legs as I raced into my father’s study. I’d been six years old, and I’d just sewn my first defensive spell into my barasta. My mother had perched on the edge of my father’s desk, a sword resting across her leather-clad knees.

“Look!” I said, bowing hastily before sweeping a hand down the embroidery. “Mother… Father… I set the spell with my own hand.” The work had taken countless hours, and my neck ached from bending over the cloth as I chanted the spells into the thread.

My mother smiled, and she and my father exchanged an indulgent look. Something about it made my own smile fade, although I wasn’t sure why.

“It’s lovely, Georgina,” my mother said, easing off the desk. Her black hair streamed over her shoulders as she crouched and examined the embroidery.

My heart fluttered, and I pushed out my chest so she could see the crane I’d worked into the design. “It’s the symbol of your maiden house,” I said, as if she didn’t know.

“Indeed,” she murmured, straightening. “A steadier hand next time, Daughter.” Her sword flashed, and the tip pressed against my ribs before I could blink. “Your spell has a weakness in the stitching under the bird’s wing.”

“Better?” Callum asked now, his long fingers stroking down my spine. Graeme must have removed my coat when he brought me into the fortress, and only my thin moisture-wicking shirt separated Callum’s fingertips from my skin. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than for that barrier to disappear. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I sat up and flung myself into his arms.

He grunted, but it was a pleased sound as he hauled me all the way into his lap so I straddled him, my face buried in his neck. He didn’t question my behavior, just held me tight and hummed deep in his chest, the sound reminiscent of a big cat purring as it bakes in the sun. But Callum wasn’t a cat. He was a dragon.

My dragon. He was right. I’d taken that second look he spoke of—and then I’d spun around and wrapped myself up in him. And now that I had him, nothing would pry him away from me. As unsettling as it was, I accepted it. But could I really accept Graeme Abernathy? In the middle of a mystical quest that would determine my future?

I pulled back so I could see Callum’s face. “What do we do?”

“Hmm?” He was as relaxed as ever.

“You heard me.”

His lips curved at my use of his pet phrase. “I don’t know for sure, lass. But I’m thinking we start by going downstairs and claiming our mate.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” I asked, panic creeping into my voice. “Graeme is cold and distant and—”

“—sexy as hell?” Callum’s eyes lightened a shade. “With those tattoos and that beard, hmm?”

“Don’t you dare tunnel into my mind.”

He reached down and palmed one of my butt cheeks. “Admit it, lass, you’re attracted to him.” He gave my bottom a light squeeze. “And you want to know something else?”

“No.”

“Liar.” Another squeeze, and I whimpered against his lips. “Graeme wants you, too. He can’t decide if he’s more fascinated by your arse or your tits but he wants a handful of both.” When I shuddered, Callum pulled me more tightly against him and nipped at my bottom lip. “Wait until he hears what you want, you greedy lass.”

“What?” I whispered, knowing I was walking into his trap. But I didn’t care. “What do I want?”

Callum’s eyes glowed more brightly as he basked in my lust. “Oh, Georgie, you want everything.” He rucked up my shirt, then slid his hand down the back of my leggings and under my thong. His fingers skimmed my crack, and then he teased a fingertip over the most secret part of me. Another whimper escaped me as he traced my puckered opening, working decadent circles around a place where no one had ever touched me. “You want one of us here, darlin’”—he shifted me on his lap so my pussy lodged firmly against his thigh—“and you want the other one here.” He rocked me so my pussy ground into him. He pressed his finger more firmly against my hole, making my breath hitch. “Stop me if I’m wrong, lass.”

I didn’t stop him. Couldn’t, really. All I could do was lean forward and run my tongue over his bottom lip, drawn to him, wanting him. “No,” I murmured, the word muffled against his mouth. “You’re not wrong.”

“Of course not. Lift up a little.” As I obeyed, he thrust his other hand down the front of my leggings, slipped under my panties, and found my clit. “Soaking wet,” he rumbled, stroking my clit like a master musician plying his instrument. And he was. Callum McLeish had promised to master me. To own my desire. He made good on that promise, playing my body with skill that stole my breath and set a fire blazing under my skin. I grew so wet that moisture slipped back to my hole, and he took full advantage, fingering my juices into the tight whorl.

“Callum,” I gasped, clenching and rocking and burning up. My labored breaths and broken whimpers filled the room. In some remote corner of my lust-addled brain, I wondered if Graeme could hear. If he’d storm into the chamber and see me grinding my ass and pussy all over Callum’s hands.

“Fuck,” Callum muttered, his horns flickering around his head. “You want to be caught, filthy girl?”

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