beauty that really should have been illegal.
He was the most powerful creature to ever walk the earth. Why the heck did he also have to have a face that looked like it’d been carved by the hands of an angel? Or sleek black hair that had a satiny sheen as it brushed against his broad shoulders? Or eyes that burned with an amber fire?
And that body…
God almighty. Even now she found herself mesmerized by the exquisite tattoos that were crawling over his lean, sculpted torso.
Is that why he never wore more than a pair of loose pants?
Because he knew it made poor, hapless females wonder what it would feel like to run their hands over those strange markings? And kiss a path over his smooth chest and down the flat planes of his stomach? And tumble him onto the floor so she could climb on top of him and…
Slamming the mental door on her vivid fantasies, Tayla fiercely reminded herself that she was in trouble.
Ass-deep-potential-death kind of trouble.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded.
He shrugged, taking a slow, thorough survey of her. Tayla shivered. There was a smoldering intensity in his gaze that seemed to singe her skin. She didn’t know what was going on behind those painfully gorgeous features, but she sensed it was raw and needy and possessive as hell.
Christ. It was true.
Dragons truly did lust over their hoard.
“The fey are not the only ones who can create portals,” he warned, his eyes at last lifting to meet her wary glare. “Give me your name.”
“It’s none of your—” Baine’s power thundered through the air, cutting off any urge to be a smartass. “Tayla,” she choked out. “My name is Tayla.”
“Tayla.” He said it slow. Like he was testing it on his tongue. Then he gave a slow nod. “Yes.”
“Did…” She was forced to halt and clear her throat. “Did your father send you?”
He seemed surprised by her question. “Why would you think Synge would send me?”
“The trolls—”
“My father has no claim on you,” he interrupted in fierce tones. “I paid for you. Now you belong to me.”
“What do you mean, you paid for me?”
“The usual.” He shrugged. “He demanded a small fortune, and I gave it to him. Let’s hope you’re worth it.”
“No,” she breathed, her heart thundering at the mere thought of belonging to this intensely beautiful creature.
There was a long, nerve-racking silence as he did another slow, ruthless survey of her tense body, as if satisfying himself that his prize hadn’t been damaged or tarnished over the years. Then, without warning, he reached out to grasp her wrist in a grip that sent shockwaves of heated pleasure through her.
“Time to go home.”
She barely managed to gasp before the world melted to black.
###
Baine deliberately chose to return to his home through the portal that opened just outside his lair. He still didn’t know how she’d escaped his father’s harem, but he could only assume that someone had been foolish enough to leave a gateway open.
This portal was constantly guarded, which meant she couldn’t use it to sneak away.
Still holding her arm, he stepped through the opening, waving aside the uniformed guards who snapped to attention.
“Welcome home, my lord,” one of the soldiers murmured, his gaze running an appreciative inventory over the lovely imp at Baine’s side.
Baine narrowed his eyes, acutely aware that Tayla was wearing nothing more than a tiny scrap of clothing that did nothing to hide her beauty. His power abruptly vibrated through the air. He was a dragon. Which meant nobody was allowed to covet his treasures.
Especially not this one.
“Open the door,” he snapped.
There was a flurry of movement as his servant scurried to obey his command and within seconds Baine was tugging Tayla into his lair. Even then, he continued through the long hallway, not halting until they’d entered the empty throne room.
Alone at last.
His gaze swept down her body with a compulsive fascination he couldn’t seem to halt. It was pissing him off. He’d already assured himself she was undamaged. And that she wasn’t carrying any weapons. Not that there was anything she could possess that would hurt him. But she might try to harm his guards, or even herself.
There was no need to keep inspecting her as if he’d been starving for the sight of her. Or for his hand to twitch with the need to reach out and assure himself that she was real. Or suck in deep breaths just so he could savor her tart, lemony scent.
It’d been