Page 5 of Wolf's Redemption

He pushed himself off the wall, standing tall, his chains clinking and black pants stretching over powerful thighs. Footballer’s thighs. Keen eyes studied her with a burning intensity. His gaze raked over her from head to toe before returning to her face, then dipping and lingering on her cleavage. Heat bloomed, and her nipples pebbled.

God Almighty.

She took a step back. Then another.

He advanced on her, stalking her with an animal-like grace surprising for such a large man, until his chains snapped tight, halting his progress. Her panties dampened. What was it about dangerous men that had her ovaries going off like it was midnight on New Year’s Eve?

He inhaled deeply through his nose and closed his eyes. A low rumble emanated from his chest, and a wicked smile tilted the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips, and she followed the progress of his tongue with a hungry gaze.

Down, girl.

He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with hers, full of heated promises. Bek sucked in a breath and backed away until she hit the wall.

Fuck me.

“Mrs. Wu, you really are a Dragon Master.”

Chapter Three

Frankia

999

The scent of woman and wine—his two favorite things—hit Ulrik hard, and he drank it in. At his feet, the binding stone glowed, signaling its activation. Before him, a woman. A woman like he had never seen before. She stood, staring at him, her bare arms adorned with intricate markings like the Picts of old and her ears and nose decorated with silver pierced through her skin. In her hand, she clutched an amulet.

Gaharet had sent him aid. He licked his lips.And in the most delightful form. The woman had the curves of the most buxom maid, soft and full. Curves a man could hold on to, could sink into. If his nose did not lie, an aroused woman, and one who shared his affinity for wine.

Where Gaharet had found her, Ulrik did not know. Nor did he care. He would escape Lothair’s underground chamberwith her help and erase the memory of his days in this hellhole by bedding this beauty. Her reward for helping him. Perhaps the very reason she had volunteered. His cock twitched and his gaze dipped to her generous bosom. He would see her well compensated.

A light in her hand flashed white and bright, like lightning contained, as it bounced around the chamber. Witchcraft? The last he had seen of Gaharet was his retreating back as he had headed east, seeking the witch in the forest, his wounded matein his arms. It stood to reason he had sent someone with knowledge of magic. Ulrik would need every advantage to escape Langeais Keep.

His gaze skimmed over her body. Tight breeches hugged womanly hips and her short, fitted tunic clung to her luscious bosom. His mouth watered at the thought of his lips and tongue on her skin, on her nipples—licking, sucking and nipping. He would feast on her body and wring every last cry, whimper and moan from her delectable lips. For helping him escape, he would pleasure her with the dedication of a man starved of female succor.

He grinned. It would be no hardship.

Her light flared in his face, blinding him and he flinched, averting his gaze. She lowered the light a little.

“Merci.”

“You’re…French?” She did not conceal the surprise in her voice. “How the hell did you end up here? Do you speak English?”

Awareness tingled up his spine. The language of Bretaigne. Not the familiar form he remembered from his youth spent there. But hehadheard it before. Once. And with a similar cadence. From Erin, Gaharet’s mate. Erin who had come from a world so different from theirs. From the future.

This woman came not from Langeais. Gaharet had not sent her.

“Look.” Her gaze darted about the chamber, lighting on the steps. “I don’t know if you understand me or not, but I’m going to try to get out of here. When I do, I’ll send someone back to help you.” Concern flickered in warm brown eyes lined with kohl. “If you’re lucky, it won’t be one of Mrs. Wu’s goons.” She moved toward the steps.

“Wait.”

She turned back to him. “So you do speak English. Good.” She nodded, her dark hair, strangely streaked with green, dancing about her face. Short hair, shorter than he had ever seen on a woman before, but more than enough to fist his hand in. “That’ll make things easier when I send someone to help you.”

He shook his head and his chains rattled. “Alerting the guards to your presence is not wise.”

“If they’re still standing. It’s bound to be absolute chaos up there. The fire brigade, ambulance, the boys in blue—all the emergency services are going to be up there. And I dare say, The Spicy Dragon is going to look like a disaster zone. Chances are, anyone who survived the sinkhole is going to be more worried about saving their own skin and not getting linked to”—she swung her hand around indicating her surroundings—“this. Or you.”

“The…Spicy Dragon? Asinkhole? Emergency… services?” With each word she spoke, he became more convinced she came from a similar place as Erin. Not the same, though. Her accent was different, more clipped.

“Yeah. You know. Mrs. Wu’s restaurant. The people who dragged you down here and chained you to the wall.”

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