It was pure heaven when she placed her hands on his chest and rose up to meet him. The softness of her lips on his eased the cracked skin. Her wet tongue slid across his mouth, and he opened for her. A gush of warm water flowed into his mouth, and he clamped his lips to hers so not a drop could escape. Pure ecstasy washed through him with that first sip. Shuddering, Michael swallowed what she offered. Honeyed wine could never taste as good as her mouth and that water. Desire shot through him, and he could feel himself stiffen as she pulled away. The woman let out a little puff of air, like a silent laugh, as she turned away to get him more water.
Michael’s eyes dropped to the front of his pants. How was it possible to get a hard-on when he was so dehydrated? He was still fully dressed in black cargo pants and a T-shirt, and they were, so far, still hiding his growing arousal. But that laugh made him think she knew what had passed through his mind. His eyes traced the gentle curve of her backside as she bent to draw up more water. God, how he wanted out of those manacles! To be able to lift the folds of her skirt up, exposing more of that pale skin. To feel her warmth and wetness as he pushed into her. Michael shook his head hard, trying to dislodge the image that had settled into his brain. How could he be thinking of her like that? For God’s sake, he had just met the woman. She was giving him water, not making out with him.
Michael nearly died when she pressed her mouth to his for that second drink. He pulled against his chains with the desire to hold her. To explore that wonderful mouth. Would her skin be as soft as her lips? Would she fit against him? Would the rest of her taste as good as her lips? He ached to find out. She pulled away, leaving him bereaved for her touch. Gasping for air, he hung from his chains. A note of concern filtered into his lust-laden thoughts. What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t him. Sure, he fantasized about beautiful women, like any man, but it never went this far. When she came back with the third mouthful, he rounded up his scattered wits and pulled away from her.
“What are you doing to me?” He gasped.
Her eyes filled with a compassionate sorrow, and she made a sign with her hand. A sign that the entire world had learned almost two decades ago: dragon.
His mind clicked into gear. That explained everything. The magic, his hormonal response, and why this group would kidnap her. She was a dragon. Giving in to his uncontrollable urges, he pressed back to her lips to claim her gift. No human stood a chance against a dragon; the pheromones they put out could send even the Pope into a mating rut. Hell, the stuff was currently making the rounds as the latest designer date-rape drug. It was fast, effective, left no side effects, and was hard to prove in court. It was ironic that he would be caught in this potent chemical’s clutches. He had been working to stop the organization producing it before being captured. He shivered again as she released his lips. This was going to make things hard, both literally and figuratively.
Normally, dragons didn’t put out a significant amount of the chemicals to bother people casually, it had to be harvested and refined to be used as a drug, but a dragon could pass it on intimately with the same effects. He was probably getting a significant dose along with the water from her mouth. Had he known she was a dragon, he would never have let her feed him water that way. His boss was a dragon, and Michael had seen how uncontrollable women got after he kissed them. It was most definitely a good thing that his hands were chained above his head. Sure, he was going to have one hell of a case of blue balls, but at least she would be safe from him. The problem would come when they tried to escape.
Given several days and a few good hand jobs, he could work the pheromones out of his system, but did they have the time? Now that she was here, their captors would have to act. There was no way they could leave a dragon with magic in a cell. Even if they warded the area, it was only a matter of time until they got free. The problem would be him. When she did get him free of his cuffs, he would probably fall on her like a satyr among nymphs. He had seen it happen with others. It was not something he wanted to subject her to. She would probably understand, most dragons under those circumstances did, but he would hate himself for it.
Anguish rode Michael right along with the lust as she pressed into him with another mouthful of water. He needed this—without the water, his death was almost certain—but knowing that his response was chemically induced didn’t ease the guilt plucking at him.
This mouthful slid bitterly across his tongue as he worshiped at her lips. The liquid burned his throat, leaving him gasping as she pulled away. Something was definitely different about that sip. He tracked the heat as it slid down and bottomed out in his stomach. She reached up and touched his cheek, pulling his gaze to her. Shock filled him as their eyes met. Apology shone clearly in her face as his stomach clenched in pain. Groaning, he tried to curl up as his insides began to boil. He barely noticed when she leaned into him, pressing his back to the wall and taking his weight from the manacles. God, what had she done to him?
Now she’d done it. Carissa pushed up against the unconscious man. She should have gotten him down before she had worked her magic, but that would have led to a whole different bundle of problems, and they were all her fault. She hadn’t thought when she drew up that first mouthful of water and passed it to him. She didn’t deal with humans much on a personal level and had forgotten the effect dragons could have on them. It also didn’t help that this one, with his dark, wavy hair and chocolate-brown eyes, hit every one of her yummy buttons.
She felt horrible as she held him up. All those sculptured muscles were loose under her hands. The only portion of him that wasn’t limp pressed into her stomach where she leaned against him. Even unconscious, her pheromones made him hard. She ran her hand over the ridge in his pants. He was definitely a prime specimen of his species. Half considering helping him into a softer state, she shook her head and decided against it. He would probably be very upset with her when he woke up. Taking advantage of his helplessness would not help her case.
Pushing his body up, Carissa scratched a rune into his cuffs, weakening them. Working her fingers in next to his skin, she tore through the metal of the manacles pinning him to the wall. She shook her head as she lowered him to the floor. That should have been the first thing she had done. It would have solved a plethora of problems they now had to face. The disorientation and pain from whatever had been used to knock her out still tickled at the back of her head. The morphine from the man’s medical pack had helped, but those drugs didn’t work very well on her system.
Carissa arranged the man on his back and went to get another drink of water. The foul taste had started to return from where more water was dribbling in from the grate high in the wall. She would have to spell the water again when her companion woke up. He desperately needed it.
Putting her back against the cold wall, she pulled the man up so his head rested in her lap. Her eyes fell on the material on the floor. A curtain from the baron’s house. She pulled the loose material over and wrapped part of it over her shoulders before spreading the rest over her companion. Tilting her head back, she tried to remember what had happened.