Page 25 of The Black Dragon
9
He cooked her dinner.After years of surviving on his own, he was a damn good cook and could whip up a plain, but tasty meal from little. Harrington’s cupboards were almost bare, but with the aid of spices and a jar of sauce, he made spaghetti. The meatballs were delivered fromthe local Italian restaurant. The freezer and refrigerator were also almostempty.
The meatballs had the right amount of spice, but not too much zing. Justin ate quickly and drank two glasses of water. He really was hungry, having skipped breakfast and lunch so he wouldn’t waste time accomplishing his purpose. Ariel ate muchslower.
She didn’t talk, either, despite his stilted attemptsat conversation. He insisted on cleaning up and loading the dishwasher. She sat, staring with mutiny at thetable.
“And now?” shedemanded.
“Bedroom. Now.” Justin wiped his hands with a paper towel and pitched it into the stainless steel trashcan.
Blood drained from Ariel’sface.
He pointedupstairs.
With a resigned expression, she marched upstairs, as if headedto her own execution. Justin followed. When she entered her bedroom, he pointed to the bed. “Sit.”
“I’m not adog.”
If looks could cut, he’d be bleeding from a dozen places now. “Ariel,sit.”
Shesat.
He added in a gentler tone, “Take off your prosthesis. I saw you earlier, and you’re still inpain.”
Her lush lower lip wobbled. “No, I’mnot.”
“It’s writtenall over yourface.”
When she’d rolled up her pants leg and removed the prosthesis, he knelt before her. She narrowed hereyes.
“What are you going todo?”
“Hush. Trust me.” Justin picked up her left leg, examined her stump. It looked red and raw, despite the cream she’d rubbed onit.
She’d been working on her feet too much, and the prosthesis most likely didn’t fitright. He inwardly cussed Leo for failing to take care ofthis.
Justin opened the tube of special cream he’d bought at the drugstore. It smelled medicinal, and was far more expensive than the type Ariel used. With small strokes, he rubbed it into herstump.
A sigh fled her. Ariel leaned back on her hands and closed her eyes. “Wow, you have greathands.”
“Much better than whenI use myclaws.”
Her lips twitched the slightest at his teasingjoke.
“At least you’re not breathing fire on me,” shemuttered.
“Naw.” He kept his caresses light, gentle and expert, all the while he itched to stroke other parts of her body. Make her pliant and hear her sigh with passion instead ofrelief.
“I only breathe fire if I don’t brush my teeth. Dragonbreath.”
The joke made hersmile.
He wanted more from her. Less anxiety andfear.
“Do you know all dragons have a secret about ourclaws?”
Ariel leaned forward, seemingly fascinated. “Tellme.”
