Page 41 of Feathers and Scales

His lips turned into a teasing grin. She wanted to brush her fingertips across them to find out if they were soft.

“We can experiment all you wish, but I won’t be your obedient lab rat.”

He closed in on her, and she pressed her hands against his chest in fragile resistance. Her eyelids felt heavy as he moved in toward her neck. His temperature burned like a fever. Goosebumps prickled her skin. His tantalizing spicy scent drifted past her, and like the molecule he smelled of, his aroma persisted.

He breathed in deeply, as if taking her in too. “A dragon doesn’t enjoy being caged.”

“Whatdoesa dragon like?” she whispered.

His unmovable muscle enthralled her. She leaned forward until his breath scorched her skin.

Wait. What am I doing?

She gasped and rocked away from the pull between them. Daxton’s attention swiveled to her lips, which had been mere breaths from touching his. Her gaze followed his strong jawline to his plush mouth, and her lips ached for his touch.

“This,” he said and started to close the gap between them, slow and steady, letting her pull away if she wanted. Warmth built in her chest and lips until he kissed her.

His lips were softer than a silk-covered pillow.

An electromagnetic pulse shook her system. His roughened palms caressed her cheek, and she let out a shaky breath. Her humanity fought for the freedom to just feel and for that moment, she allowed it. Lost to sensation, she shut her eyes and leaned farther into him, lips parting softly.

The link between them thrummed, tugged tight, and elicited tiny tingles throughout her body. She felt the inhuman claw of the dragon reach for her—wanting to link with her once more. Her energy whispered of want.

Daxton jerked into a standing position. The intensity of his inhuman growl felt like he ran the tips of his fingers over her chest.

She opened her eyes. An expression of pain scrunched his face as if he were waging an internal battle. Before she could speak, he strode toward the rear of the plane.

She didn’t dare move until he’d laid on the couch behind her. Tracing a finger over her lower lip, she still felt the impression of his. The link between them pulled at her mind, and it had almost felt like his dragon tried to link them again, but Daxton had stopped himself.

Drawing a shuddering breath, she grabbed her water with shaking hands and gulped it down. She vibrated with anticipation, as if wanting another kiss, and a smile threatened to own her face.

The plane landed with a soft skip at a small airport. As the plane slowed, Izzy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. Trees fenced in the area, cutting off her view past the airfield perimeter. Pitch-black hills—the White Mountains—loomed far away in the violet sky. She loved mountains. Their history was a slow, gradual change, like hers.

“Welcome to Whitefield, New Hampshire, boy and girl.” The pilot’s gravelly voice spoke over the intercom system. “It’s cold this spring morning and too damn early for me to be awake. Just got to park this baby. Prepare to exit my plane in an orderly fashion so I may get some shut-eye.”

Izzy’s lips curled into a smile from his spiel, and she yawned. Spending the rest of the journey in her inner library had made her eyelids feel like weights. After that kiss, she had needed logic to settle herself. It took time to push her emotions back into the vault where she preferred to keep them. She needed to concentrate on finding out more about dragon immortality and how to break the link. Not daydream about kissing Daxton again.

The plane abruptly stopped next to a black four-door Jeep Wrangler lit by the runway lights. The driver cast a massive shadow as he leaned against the vehicle with his foot propped on the nerf bar.

Daxton, who had moved back to his seat after his nap, gazed out the window and growled inhumanly. The sound rumbled like a group of men singing a bass note.

She shivered. “What’s wrong?”

“Keiran, our Centurion, knows about you, and he’s probably here.”

Fear crept up Izzy’s throat, and she squeaked, “What? How do you know?”

“That”—he pointed out the window—“is Silas. Keiran’s right-hand man. He oversees our security and privacy from humans.”

“And they might believe I’m a threat.”

“They might, but if our people are to understand each other, meeting Keiran is the next step between the dragons and the Fallen.”

“I’m not an ambassador, Daxton.” She pulled her cardigan tight and tried to calm her heartbeat with deep breaths.

He sighed back into the seat, but the straight line of his mouth and tight jawline portrayed a body-wide tension. “We can turn the plane around if you want.”

She blinked.He’d do that for me?“Am I in any danger?”