Hour of the Dragon - Heather Killough-Walden Page 0,57

her off her feet again, destroying her leverage.

As he far too easily wrangled her into the farthest recesses of the alley, well-sequestered within the deepest shadows afforded by that pre-storm winter night, Anna realized several things at once. Her captor was not human. He was larger-than-life, too strong, too graceful, and he had that scent to him that hinted of not only leather and motor oil, but darkness and magic. Mortals possessed no such scent.

The second thing she realized was that she was truly alone with him. Both her friends were sick, and her trapped arms could not even reach the cell phone she’d slipped back into her pocket.

And last but not least, this was real. It was really happening to her. She was a bona fide victim in a potentially terrifying situation.

Painful things always happened to her around Christmas time.

Chapter Seventeen – Austin Texas, Random street alley

Antares held her against the wall, his body flush with hers. He could feel every shaking breath she took radiate through his entire form, and it was messing with his head. But his grip remained tight; this one wasn’t getting away from him. Not again.

His right hand was wrapped like a vice around her slim wrists, pinning them behind her back. It allowed him to simultaneously wrap that same arm around her waist, offering him more control over her struggles. His other hand, he kept over her mouth.

He’d known she would thrash her head beneath his grip. Not wanting her to scrape her scalp on the bricks, he’d chosen this portion of the wall to hold her against. There was cement behind her here; sixty or seventy years ago, it had been poured, smoothed out and painted as a sign on the side of what was probably a factory. Remnants of the paint still promised a happy life to those who imbibed a certain soda that had at one time contained cocaine.

Ares took the brunt of her labors in stride and waited them out. She may have been something more than human, but she was not a dragon. He knew she would tire eventually, so as she glared her amethyst shard daggers at him, he merely maintained his hold and watched her. He watched her with everything he had, noting every passing emotion on her beautiful face. His dragon eyes could see her so clearly in the darkness. He wondered if she could see him as well.

He watched and waited, noting the moment her toiling willfulness began to ebb, not that he would confuse it with surrender. He knew she was probably just thinking that much harder and sparing her energy for something less futile. She also stopped trying to scream and focused on breathing. And at that first lull in her struggles, Ares leaned in.

Annaleia made a small, desperate sound behind his hand when he lowered his lips to her throat and slowly inhaled. He could just imagine the things she was imagining he might do to her.

And he wanted to. Hell, he wanted to.

Everything about her was intoxicating to him, from the way her gemstone eyes sparked in the dim light to the way her body felt against his, strong and ripped but ultimately yielding and so very familiar. If his dragon hadn’t been strengthening him against her in that moment, he’d have lost his nerve.

She would have made him weak, just like she had all those years ago. And what would have been his final undoing was the way she smelled right now. Anna had always smelled amazing, clean and new, different from everything around her. Promise and fresh starts. But as he inhaled and drew her into his lungs now, her scent was… it was like rain.

It wasn’t a perfumed reproduction of the phenomenon. There was no chemical in this, there had been no layering. This was actual fresh-fallen precipitation upon the earth. It was literally his favorite scent. But it was also the nail in the coffin, because it was absolutely not human. No mortal had managed to bottle the smell of rain, not like this. And it wasn’t the scent she’d possessed fifty years ago.

What are you, Leia? Ares was so wrapped up in overwhelming, overriding emotions, he wasn’t even sure of himself any longer. He was uncertain what to do or say first. He was filled with too many questions, and his damn chest actually hurt.

What happened to you?

His mind tossed the question around like echoes in an enclosed space. It was muffled and disjointed amidst