Page 19 of Burn for the Dragon
She visibly started, the color draining from her face. Her spine straightened, and she set her expression to one of mild curiosity. “What male?”
“The one they’re holding at Parasupe.” He decided not to reveal just yet that he knew what the male was. Perhaps she was aware of what he was. Perhaps she wasn’t. He wasn’t about to give away his hand before she told him one way or the other. “And before you decide what lie you’re about to tell me, can I make the suggestion that you not. Please.”
“He’s no one?—”
Pain lanced through his jaw, he ground his teeth together so hard. “Everly…”
She looked away, refusing to listen to anything more. But then she took a deep breath and turned back to him. “How do you know about him?”
“Because I went there last night after you left the club.” He skipped the part of how he’d followed her home to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. And, yes, to see where she lived. So, he could see she was safe.
“You went to Parasupe?” A tangle of emotions emanated from her—confusion, hope, but mostly fear.
Fear for him? Fear for the man being kept prisoner? Or fear for what he’d found out? “Yeah, I did.”
She moved to the edge of the couch cushion, angling her body closer to Hawke. It might have been an unconscious gesture, but he felt it in every cell of his body. Her sweater fell open with her movement, and he noticed she wore a plain, white T-shirt or tank top beneath it. “You saw him?” She anchored herself to the couch with her hands, fists clenched so tightly on either side of her hips her knuckles were white.
Hawke took in her reaction with a feeling of unease. “Yeah. I saw him.”
“He’s alive? Is he okay?”
He shrugged, watching her carefully. “As well as can be expected.” He paused, wondering how much to tell her. If it were someone he cared about, he would want every last detail. “He’s being held naked in a cell like a lab rat and it appears they might be starving him. He’s dirty and emaciated. And he’s concerned about you.”
Tears filled Everly’s eyes, darkening the bright gray to the chaos of storm clouds. She suddenly stood and paced away from the couch, keeping her back to him.
Hawke stood also. Without thinking, he laid a hand on the back of her arm.
Everly jumped and turned, startled eyes flying up to his face, and he felt a jolt of remorse for scaring her, even if it was accidental.
He held his hands up, palms out. “He’s alive. But he’s not in good shape. Mentally or physically.” The blast of her sorrow hit him so hard, his knees nearly buckled from the force of it. “Who is he, Everly?” he demanded. “What is he to you?” Even as he spoke, he knew he had no right to the answers. He had no right to her at all.
But he wanted to. Desperately.
Everly pulled her sweater around herself and looked away, tight lines twisting the shape of her mouth.
Hawke’s blood rushed through his veins as he reached out a shaking hand and gently clasped her chin, turning her face until she had no choice but to look at him. “Who. Is. He.” He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear her say it. But he needed to know. He could barely breathe as he waited for her answer.
Stormy eyes filled with pain rose up to meet his. “He’s my brother.”
Her brother. Not her lover.
His heart gave a hard thud in his chest, only to take off again as a surge of relief flooded his senses. Still holding her chin, Hawke drew her toward him and pressed his lips to hers. He didn’t think about what he was doing or if he should be doing it. He was way past that. Emotions battled and tangled within him. Relief, sorrow, excitement, gratitude, rage, need, passion. His and hers combining into an overwhelming gale that battled the storm in her eyes.
Her brother.
Everly gripped his shoulders, the warmth of her hands seeping through the thin material of his shirt as he pressed her back over his arm, but she didn’t push him away.
He released her chin and slid his hand into her fiery curls. Soft. So soft. Her lips. Her hair. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Soft and warm and all female.
Her scent swirled in the air around him. The rush of her blood filled his ears. She gasped for breath and he slid his tongue inside, denying her anything that wasn’t a part of him. Her tongue touched his, tentatively at first, and then with more pressure until they were dueling for dominance of the kiss.
It wasn’t enough.
Hawke tore his mouth from hers, fangs aching to pierce her flesh, throat burning with thirst, needing more. He rained kisses over her jaw and down her throat. One hand remained tangled in her hair as the other pressed her hips into his. He was so fucking hard. One fang skimmed along the tender layer of skin protecting the delicate veins of her throat.
A pulse of fear shot into him, crashing through the haze of lust, and without thinking he immediately stopped and straightened, pulling her up with him. He took her face between his hands and dropped his forehead to hers as he fought for control of the monster within him, his body screaming for blood and release. He should back away, put some distance between them, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let her go.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just got a little overwhelmed. You’re so…so…”
