Page 27 of Dragon Touched
Sacha
Idon’tknowwhatto make of him. One minute, he sends my heart pounding against my ribs, and the next moment, I can’t tell if he’s pulling my leg or is an escaped mental patient. Or am I the crazy one? After all, I did cuddle a freaking dragon.
She wished she had her cellphone to Google Finley Marin and assure herself he wasn’t an insane, escaped psychopath. Instead, she had to trust her deepest instinct which told her he was safe. Probably. Well, mostly.
“This way.” Margaret led Sacha up the narrow flight of stairs.
“Is this thing reliable?” She ran her hand along cracked stones.
Margaret, bun smooth, perfect and without a hair out of place, nodded.
The topmost floor of the tower opened to a hall, with three doors—a single opening to the right and two on the other side.
“Here’s your room.” She opened the first wooden door on the left, which swung on iron hinges.
Sacha peeked into the interior. A low-hanging chandelier dominated the ceiling.
Further inspection revealed dozens of unlit tapered candles cradled inside holders. It was beautiful and quaint.
The bed wasn’t too fancy, but it wasn’t cheap, either. It had an elegant, yet simple style with a rugged headboard lined in black leather. A dark plum comforter covered the mattress. To her right, an old wooden wardrobe sat in the corner, impressive with its height of six feet.
Sprawled on the middle of the floor, a handwoven rug with circular patterns of purple and gold alternating in geometric shapes, spread out. A medium-sized fireplace crackled to her left and took the chill out of the air. Two leather recliners sat in front of the blaze.
“This is beautiful.” She turned to Margaret. “I adore it.” Looking from the outside, she’d have never guessed the treasures this old tower held.
Hmm. No one would ever think to look for me here.
“I thought you would, dear.” The older lady patted her shoulder and pointed to a corner behind her, next to the fireplace. “You also have a private bath if you need to freshen in the morning.”
“It’s perfect.” Sacha walked to a floor-length window set in the opposite wall.
Lightning flashed and showed the tops of trees and a house off in the distance.
Is that Pop’s place?
Every now and again, a twinkle of light would show through a lull in the rain.
The thought of his men scurrying about, trying to mollify his terrible anger at her escape, sent a happy flutter of butterflies to soar in her stomach. She was free from his wrath, free from his will, and free from his plans.
“I shall return in the morning.” Margaret backed out of the doorway, leaving it partway open.
Sacha turned a full circle. She had to admit—for a grumpy hermit, Fin kept comfortable quarters.
Just thinking about him sent goosepimples across her skin.
Those red eyes were mesmerizing, and she enjoyed how they roamed over her skin like a caress. When she’d felt his arousal, it was all she could do to not grind her hips into his.
What’s wrong with me?
She didn’t even know the guy, yet he set her body on fire and her heart into a hot spiral. And what he did earlier, shooting a line of fire from his hands, turned her on more than she’d like to admit.
Fascination with the strange and unknown had always been a weakness. It got even weirder, though. He owned a fairytale pet—a mythical dragon. It couldn’t be anything else, could it? There were no such things as flying lizards—at least not inthisworld.
If she believed his story about other dimensions and magic, then did that truly make him a sorcerer? What would it’d feel like to burn under his naked body, his hands and mouth staking claim over her flesh, heart, and mind?
She wandered to the corner of the room holding the wardrobe. Sighing, she ran her fingers across the smooth oak. Metallic hinges and scrollwork butted against the pads of her fingers. When she opened its doors, several pieces of clothing hung from wooden hangers.
“Oh, what have we here?” Her fingers raked across a black and red night gown, the cottony material some of the softest she’d ever felt.
