Tears of the Dragon Read Online Free PDF Page B

her.
    She was alone.
    She could escape.
    She almost leapt from the shower as that
thought occurred to her. Moving to the rim, she sat down long
enough to wring the water from her hair and then climbed out and
moved as quickly as she dared to the lavatory. It was then that she
discovered it wasn’t a cabinet beneath it as she’d supposed--not
that she could tell at any rate. After feeling along it frantically
for several moments, she finally decided it wasn’t really that
important. It would have been nice, but she would certainly dry,
with or without a towel.
    Clothes was the problem. Her own were beyond
filthy and nothing but tatters anyway. Not that she would’ve minded
a little dirt if it meant the difference between escaping and
staying in this strange world, but she was really reluctant to run
around naked. She didn’t believe for one moment that Damien, or any
of the dragon men, for that matter, could tell that she was nearing
the end of her reproductive cycle, but they hardly needed that sort
of incentive to attack her if she was flaunting herself.
    Deciding finally that a sheet or coverlet
was just going to have suffice, she headed for the door. She simply
stared at the panels for several moments, wondering how she was
supposed to make it open. There was no handle and no knob. As she
moved toward it with the intention of pushing against it, however,
the doors swung open, this time into the bedroom. Wasting no more
time, Khalia snatched the coverlet from the bed, flung it around
her shoulders and dashed into the sitting room.
    There, she skidded to a halt.
    Damien was standing near a table in one
corner having just, apparently, set a tray down. She gaped at
him.
    His eyes narrowed. His gaze flickered over
the bedspread she had draped around her like a roman toga.
    She pasted a smile on her lips. “I couldn’t
find a towel.”
    One dark brow rose in a skeptical arch. He
took a step toward her. Khalia’s mind screamed ‘run’, but her feet
remained firmly glued to the floor.

Chapter Four
    Khalia’s gaze, chained to Damien’s by her
awareness of guilt and fear of reprisal, tilted as he approached
and towered over her. His face was expressionless, but his eyes
were dark and tumultuous with comprehension, desire, irritation.
She was left with no doubt at all that he’d immediately, and
correctly, assessed the situation and he wasn’t at all pleased
about it.
    Beyond the anger, however, heated desire,
held barely in check, roiled inside of him. It was almost as
fascinating and alluring as it was frightening.
    Maybe it was more fascinating and alluring than it was
frightening.
    She wasn’t accustomed to having men look at
her as if they wanted to consume her. There was no getting around
the fact that it was definitely unnerving. On the other hand, his
simmering, barely controlled desire was enough to jump start her
own with no more than a look.
    She jumped when he grasped her shoulders,
hoping--fearing--that she had unleashed the beast he was working so
hard to tame. Her mouth went dry with anticipation. Warmth
saturated her with liquid heat.
    Abruptly, he spun her on her heels and
nudged her toward the bedroom. Stunned, she didn’t even think to
protest as he guided her into the bedroom and to the small bench
set before the vanity. When he’d pushed her down onto the seat, he
took a comb from the table before her, lifted the hair that fell to
her hips and, starting at the ends, began to carefully work the
tangles from it. Khalia stared wide eyed at his reflection in the
mirror, hardly daring to breathe.
    “ When you assume the throne … when you
arrive in Caracaren, the principle seat of your domain, you will be
given handmaidens to attend you, your highness. This is considered
an honor and you may choose any of the maidens of the noble houses
to wait upon you.”
    The deep, resonant timber of his voice was
almost as soothing as his hands. He was a conundrum. As pleasing as
he was to the eye, one had only