Eternal (Dragon Wars, #2) (4 page)

Then he’d somehow ripped her from the dying lizard’s claws and gotten them both to the ground. Or so Brett had described to him. Until he’d shifted back to his human legs and checked her pulse, he hadn’t been able to make his brain work.

Survival mode
. The phrase was what his former commander called the place where a Werewolf could go when things went to hell. It meant the brain left town while the muscle memory remained.

Thank the gods, Caitlyn was okay. And if life weren’t horribly cruel he’d get to shepherd her there and back again without further incident.

Maybe he’d also figure out what to do with the erection he’d been sporting for hours. It had been years since his dick had gotten stiff for any length of time. It didn’t want to go back to normal, despite his fast jerk off session.

Maybe he needed to see a doctor. Was it safe for him to stay hard for so fucking long?

Caitlyn stepped out of the commander’s tent and laughed at something the old man said. The man in charge of all their asses put his hand on her arm and Dougal couldn’t stop the growl which wrenched itself from his gut and vibrated through his throat.

Everyone close enough to hear, including Caitlyn and the commander, stared at him. “Are you okay over there Owens?”

No
. “Yes, sir.”

He stomped in their direction and doing so didn’t improve his mood. The day before, he’d thought Caitlyn smelled like home. She still did, coupled with a sweet femininity which had no place in a war zone. No wonder the decision had been made to keep the females home. By the gods, how would he survive this? It might take years to get his libido back under control.

It was almost as if...

No, he shoved the thought away. Mating and family weren’t for him, would never be. He’d seen too much, watched too many friends get clawed to death. He shuddered as his most unwanted memory floated in where it didn’t belong. Burned buildings, homes destroyed, the baby who wasn’t quite dead yet would be shortly when she died in his arms.

Yes, no children for him. If he lived long enough to see an end of the war where the dragons were gone, he wouldn’t seek mating. Maybe he’d spend his life avoiding women all together.

In another ten years, he’d be too old for it anyway. Almost no one found a mate over the age of fifty-five.

Ten more years then he’d be safe. If only he could do something about his cock in the meantime.

“Sir.” He nodded at the commander. “Miss. Is there anything you need before we get going?”

“No.” She smiled only it didn’t reach her eyes. Caitlyn had secrets, yet every emotion seemed to play across her face. In another life, he would have made a point to know and help shoulder whatever made her so wary. Or maybe she was war burdened like the rest of them. Her previous statements about being unmatable tugged at him. Who told her those lies?

So, the burn wouldn’t heal. Who the fuck gave two shits about such a small thing?

“Have you been informed as to the particulars of the plan Brett designed?”

If she wanted to get out of going, he wouldn’t blame her. Nothing about it appealed to him. Visiting the egg fields constituted his least favorite thing on the planet. There were babies in those eggs. He knew why they had to kill them. The eggs hatched fully-grown dragons, ready to attack and kill.

But they screamed when they were smashed, from inside the egg. Werewolves were genetically predisposed to take care of children. It’s why, generally, they had large families. Breaking an egg which then screamed while it crumbled—it destroyed him from the inside out.

If the commander thought they could benefit from taking a female in hell, then he would make it happen. Somehow, he’d resist the urge to carry her far from the front lines where she’d never be so afraid she fainted again. If such a place even still existed.

“Wolves on boats.” Caitlyn shook her head. “Frankly, I’d rather get back on the dragon. I hate the water. Except the eggs are on that island.” She pointed to the block of land two miles from shore. “And so to the island I must go.”

“She’s a mighty patriotic Werewolf, isn’t she?” The commander patted her on the head. Caitlyn flinched and Dougal didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl. Had the commander really petted her on a head like she was a domesticated dog?

If anyone tried to be patronizing to his mother, she would have bitten off his hand. Maybe his upbringing was the difference between Dougal and the other Males. His mother had kicked ass.

Had he never noticed the condescension before or was he feeling it so acutely because he’d fixated on Caitlyn?

Dougal grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Oh, okay.” She scurried to catch up to him as the commander called his best wishes for a safe venture to their backs. His soldiers would be waiting on the boat they’d procured to get to the island.

“Could you slow a bit? You’re running and my legs are shorter than yours.”

He cooled his pace immediately. The whole day would be trying without his running her to exhaustion. “I’m not used to having females around.”

Dougal hoped it would do as far as explanations went.

“You can let go of my hand. I promise not to run away.”

He’d actually liked having his fingers linked with hers. The contact was strange. The desire for it weirder still, but he refused to overanalyze the behavior Dougal dropped her hand and tried to smile. “Again, my apologies. I know it’s not appropriate for me to touch you.”

She laughed. “It’s been a long time since anyone concerned themselves with my propriety. I’m not worried about a small thing like you pulling me along to get where we need to go.”

Caitlyn matched her stride with his and he didn’t feel like he was dawdling too much to walk at a slightly slower speed. “Your father would care if he were here.” The thought dawned on him so he continued. “What did he say when you told him you were coming here?”

“I’m afraid my father is in his decline. It’s been six months since he shifted into his human form.” The sadness in her voice couldn’t be contained, and his heart panged. How old was Mr. Knox that he’d already headed into the stage of life where he stayed entirely in his wolf form before death?

She continued speaking. “I’m thirty-six years old. Long gone are the days where he commented on my comings and goings in any case. I’ve lived about an hour from home for the last decade or so.”

“Things must have really changed at home. No single beautiful woman would be left to live on her own ever, not sixteen years ago anyway.”

“Beautiful?” Her voice cracked. “Do you need to get your eyes checked?”

“Stop a second.” He grabbed her arm. “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

The day before, he’d not thought so either. His initial impressions hadn’t been kind. Her hair, while not the platinum of her sisters, shimmered with reds and gold amongst the chestnut brown practically glowed like a perfect fall day. Her eyes were sharp, filled with intelligence. Her sardonic wit promised to bite at him. A bite, he suspected he would love.

He’d never, for the rest of his existence, forget her face.

“I don’t like this conversation.” She looked away. “I’d rather talk about anything else in the world. Want to know about my drug addicted sister and the job she did robbing my folks? How about the time I fell at the pack meeting, right smack on my ass? Pick any other miserable topic.”

“Caitlyn.” Gods, he wanted to breathe her in, to hold her against his chest until he’d soothed all her hurts. “Let the young ninnies keep their perfect faces. You survived fire. Some man would be lucky to have you. Who knows what’s about to happen in the world? Whoever got you wouldn’t need to worry about your ability to withstand it.”

“Dougal.” Her voice dropped a little. “I don’t want you to talk to me about other males and my future. I’m not comfortable with it. Okay?”

“Right.” What was wrong with him?

Male Werewolves were randy. After the age of eighteen, they were left on their own to engage in whatever sexual activity they could find. Most well-bred females stayed away from too much fun in the sheets. Embarrassing their families could cause a woman a lot of trouble in the world.

She’d been sheltered and well-educated. Her sister might have engaged in some lewd behavior, but Caitlyn still deserved to be treated with respect. And...and...and...
damn it.

Good intentions be damned. He had to kiss her. They were standing in broad daylight where anyone could see or a dragon could appear at any time.

He pulled her against him and kissed her hard. Once upon a time, he might have known how to be gentle. No longer, it seemed. All he knew was he had to put his mouth on top of hers right then. If she shoved him away and he never had another chance, he wanted to kiss her anyway.

Instead, she melted against him. Her breath quickened, her heart beat rapidly against his chest, and as her body gentled to his, he could feel in the slight tremor of her hands on his arms that she played no games.

Finally, he pulled back. She opened her eyes—those smart, smart blue eyes—and stared at him. Neither of them spoke.

“Well?” Her voice was breathy.

He took her cheeks in his hands. The burned skin felt rougher than the rest of her softness. Dougal traced his fingers over the permanent reminder of the pain she’d endured. “Well what?”

She sighed loudly and stepped back. “Nothing. Guess it’s been a long time for you, huh?”

Caitlyn stormed forward to the boat. When her words finally registered in his thick brain, he wanted to howl. What the fuck was wrong with him?

****

W
olves on boats sounded like the beginning of a poem or novel.
Twelve wolves gathered on a boat. It was a dark and grey day...

Her mouth was dry and she supposed it would be bad form for her to ask for a bottle of water. It might make her seem wimpy, and she wanted them to believe she could be as tough as they were. Twelve wolves, two of them commanders just under the head Wolf, ten other top-ranked soldiers floated on a boat headed for the egg fields because she had asked them to go. Well, technically because her all-female lab thought they could solve the worlds’ problems by going.

“A penny for your thoughts?” The young Werewolf next to her caught her attention. He gave her a kind smile. He couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen years old. His blond hair with a hint of red and his dimple made him look younger. A sweet face, her mother would have said.

“Oh, I don’t know if they’re worth as much as a penny.”

He laughed, raising his face to the slight mist above their heads. “It’s been such a long time since I spoke to a female. It’s amazing. I have six sisters. The idea I could actually say it has been a long time since I spoke to a female is downright funny.”

“Davey.” Dougal growled. “Leave her alone.”

The young Werewolf snapped forward, his eyes off her as he stared out at the sea. She sighed. Dougal sat to her left and she’d tried not to pay attention to him since they’d boarded the boat—if the floating nearly-rotted wood floating on the sea could be called anything other than a death trap.

“He’s not bothering me.” She spoke to Dougal through clenched teeth. First he talked to her about being with other Males, which confirmed what she thought to begin with—he didn’t share her mating feelings. Then, he’d kissed her. She’d waited, so pathetically hopeful. Surely with their mouths pressed together, he’d have felt the mating hormones racing through his body.

Nothing. He’d not uttered one single word. They were on a boat and no one was going to speak to her because Dougal didn’t want them to. What the hell was his problem?

Brett had warned her, sort of, the night before. He told her to spend the night in her tent because of the risks. Dougal made his big speech about males not caring about mating. She’d simply not expected it from him.

Not that she was complaining, per se. As far as first kisses went, considering she’d waited thirty-six years for hers, it had been pretty spectacular. Dougal. The beach. The danger.

His lips
.

“He’ll talk when I want him to and not talk when I don’t want him to. I’m his commander. He obeys me, it’s how this works.”

“You don’t make a lick of sense.”

“Well, your confusion works because you don’t make sense to me either. The last day with you has made me, I think, a little mad.”

She put her hands on her hips. The boat rocked to the right and she tried not to notice.

“Mad like angry or mad like nuts? Because I’d say you are making me both.”

Davey laughed, covering his mouth, and Dougal scowled at him. “Something funny, pup?”

“The mating dance. Makes everyone go berserk universally. My sister and her mate hollered at each other for a week and the poor sucker is blinded from a dragon attack. He screamed and she yelled. It was...”

Dougal interrupted by stomping his foot on the floor of the boat. “Enough. I don’t want to hear another word..”

She wanted to sink into the ocean floor beneath her. For one glorious second, when Davey had started talking, she’d been filled with ridiculous stupid hope. Mates argued? She’d never seen it or heard it described in such a way. Her parents had seen each other across a room and known instantly. Her friends always told the same story. Still, maybe the romance of it was all people wanted to remember, wanted to describe.

Davey’s sister fought with her blind war hero mate?

And then Dougal had slammed the whole thing to pieces.

“Davey, Werewolves like Dougal would never mate me. I’m flawed and broken. The perfect specimen of your commander will find himself a less destroyed female, though he might like to play with someone like me in the meantime. Werewolves like him occasionally do.”

“Hey.” Dougal sat straighter. “I’m not playing with you and I resent the implication—or, hell, you didn’t imply it—the accusation that I am.”

Three shadows darkened the sky, silencing her response.

Balanced, Davey surged to his to his feet, pointing at the sky. “Dragons. Three of them. Big purple lizards.”

He was right. Three ginormous beasts, purple in color, circled around the boat. Conversation ceased.