her heart.
Within seconds all of his weapons lay on the ground within easy reaching distance. Not that a dragon who could partially transform needed a sword to defeat his enemy. His boots and kilt followed his weapons in short order and then he stood before her, gloriously naked in the moonlight.
Chapter 18
All that spirits desire, spirits attain.
—KHALIL GIBRAN
No hint of embarrassment or shyness for this prince of the Chrechte. Eirik accepted her intensely fascinated perusal as his due.
A foot taller than her and so broad with muscle only a fool would challenge this man in battle, Eirik’s gaze burned through her with promise.
And with a challenge she would be a fool not to meet.
He drew her to him without a single gesture or word and she willingly submitted to the siren’s call of his body, moving closer. A faint echo of that frightened voice that had lived deep in her heart for so long warned her that like the siren’s this man’s song of desire would lure her to her doom.
But that voice was not loud enough to stop Ciara reaching out to touch that which held her attention so assiduously—the erection jutting from his body. Her fingertips did not quite touch in their circling of it, but he did not seem to mind, if the bliss crossing his features was anything to go by.
Long and thick, the hard phallus was much too big to fit inside her, she was sure. Though her wolf argued otherwise, snarling for the chance to be impaled by the Éan prince.
For a moment, Ciara wondered at the sanity of her beast.
That moment was lost as Eirik’s hand curled around hers, increasing the tightness of her hold. The dichotomy between his hard, callused fingers over hers and the soft, silky skin covering ungiving hardness beneath took her breath away.
“’Tis amazing,” she said on a sigh, looking down at their joint hold on his erection.
“Aye.”
He began to guide her in movement, taking their joined hands to the base of his length and pushing his foreskin down so the broad purple head winked up at her. “Like that, sweet little wolf.”
“You should be vulnerable here, but you do not feel vulnerable at all.” He felt hot, hard and strong beneath her hand.
He gave out a choked sound that could have been a laugh. “Make no mistake, even a dragon shifter’s cock is susceptible to pain as much as pleasure.”
“There is so much heat,” she whispered in wonder. “Are you sure your dragon is not getting ready to cast fire again?”
This time his laugh could be mistaken for nothing but. “It is a kind of fire, but I assure you, it will not burn you, faolán.”
“Oh, I think it will.” Her heart, if not her body.
He shook his head, his expression turning more feral than she’d yet seen it. “Take your clothes off,” he demanded in a guttural voice.
She nodded, once again ignoring that tiny voice that tried to tell her she was swimming in waters too deep. He’d brought the waters with him and they would not recede unless he took them away again.
She undid the pins holding the small shawl over her shoulders first. Why it should feel so very revealing to remove a garment that actually covered cloth, not skin, she did not know, but in that moment she felt truly defenseless.
His look of savage desire did not help. And yet if he looked away from her, she would not be able to continue.
He did not look away and her blouse came next. As she pulled it over her head, for a second, she could not see him and her heart stuttered with atavistic fear.
“Faolán.” That was all he said, just calling her his little wolf in a tone that wrapped around her desire and breathed flame into it.
And she was all right, dropping her blouse to the ground. Then she undid the tie on her pleated skirt made to look like a plaid from the Sinclair tartan and let it slide down her hips as well. That left only her shift and her shoes. She knew that even in the moonlight, her shift would do little to maintain her modesty, being of fabric spun very fine and bleached so white it was almost sheer.
His hands fisted and released at his sides, as if he wanted to touch her but dared not.
“Eirik?”
He nodded, as if to himself and strode forward, only to drop to his knees and bend down. He untied her sandals, his fingertips