Windburn (Nightwing# 2) by Juliette Cross

Author:Juliette Cross [Cross, Juliette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-02-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

I paced the room, still in my robe, since Vincent hadn’t dared enter the room with my things. Smart man.

While my senses luxuriated in the lush furnishings of dark wood, the large bed covered in deep purple and black bedding and silky silver pillows, my mind fumed at the fact Lorian had so easily imprisoned me.

I was Sorcha Linden. No man told me what to do. And he sure as hell had no right to pluck me out of my domain and put me in a pretty cage. But that’s exactly what Lorian had done. Disregarded my wishes, like they didn’t even count.

I blew out an angry sigh, pacing by the fire. Where it was nice and warm. My pretty cage had all the comforts.

The door clicked open. A calm but cautious Lorian stepped into the room. He’d changed into dark jeans and a black, button-up shirt. Perfect attire for night-flying, incognito. I’d wondered where he’d gone.

“Would you like some dinner?”

“What? Would I like some fucking dinner? No. I want to go home!”

No longer laughing or smiling, he closed the door behind him and came toward me, stopping a few feet away. Arms crossed, legs planted apart, wings slightly open, he locked on my gaze. “You’re staying here. You can’t defend yourself if this guy decides to take you. You’re safer here.”

I hissed a frustrated sound out my teeth. “I don’t need any man to protect me.”

“No. You don’t need any man. You need me.”

The dragon was back in his eyes, glowing in the dark as if a fire blazed from within. Then it hit me. Jessen had once told me Lorian confessed that soulfire ignites inside a Morgon man when in the presence of his mate. This is how he distinguished her from all others, like a beacon calling to him in the night—another inheritance of their dragon DNA. Did soulfire burn inside Lorian for me?

He started to close the gap. I backed up, glancing at a black lacquer vase on a stand. I picked it up and threw it as hard as I could. It bounced off his chest and shattered on the stone floor. He didn’t even wince, stalking closer.

“I don’t need you!”

“Yes.” A grave expression fixed and focused. “You do.”

I shuffled to the other side of the bed and picked up a handheld mirror, launching it at his head. He knocked it away.

“Lorian. Stop!”

A frantic feeling welled inside me, needing to get away but needing him closer. He had backed me into a corner, not just a physical one. Flush against the wall, I braced my hands on his shoulders, desperate to keep some distance. His hands came up, framing my face, a soft, tender embrace. He leaned in, whispering my name. My arms sagged. I wanted him.

Damn him!

He brushed his lips on one cheek, coaxing. “Let me in, Sorcha.”

He wasn’t talking about my body. He was talking about my heart…my soul.

“No,” I bit out as I clenched my hands in his hair.

His lips skimmed over mine, brushing back and forth, as if asking permission.

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