He studied her closely. While her copper-streaked auburn hair still fell in waves down her back, the shimmering luster had dulled, as had that twinkling spark in her amber gaze. Her attempt to hide the circles beneath her eyes might have worked from a distance, but now, standing before her, he could see the darker areas where the makeup had worn away. Her face seemed thinner, and her cheeks gaunt.
He lowered his focus, briefly noticing the line of padding in the shoulders of her jacket, before seeing the stark definition of her collarbone.
Sean cursed silently. This hadn’t happened in the hours since their child had been taken. Without thinking, he backed her against a wall, pinning her forcibly with his body. “What have you done, Caitlin?”
“What are you talking about?” She pushed at his shoulders. “Nothing. I’ve done nothing. Let me go.”
He ignored her feeble attempt to free herself. Instead, he opened himself to the emotions battling for escape—an avalanche of need, hunger, anger and fear cascaded against him—a tide of emotions he could easily calm, if she’d let him.
Her hunger and craving tore at him, creating a sudden urge to care for her. He didn’t question the urge; she was the mother of his child and his dragon’s mate. She was his responsibility, and he would do whatever he must to ensure her well-being.
Seemingly over his early bout of anger, his beast chuffed in agreement and then sniffed the air around her. Sean wanted to groan at the lack of life force surrounding her. How many weeks, or months, had she gone without feeding? How many more would pass before she perished?
“You’ve done nothing?” He slipped a hand beneath her jacket and felt her ribs. “Nothing?” The dragon raged with an unfamiliar worry. Fighting to control his own concern at what she’d done to herself and the beast’s anxiety, Sean said, “You will be of no use if you are dead. You need to feed.”
She sighed raggedly and leaned against him. With her lips against the hollow of his neck, Caitlin agreed. “I know.”
Letting one claw form, Sean hooked the dragon talon into the neck of her silky blouse, warning, “If this is a favorite top, consider it gone.”
“Don’t,” she whispered, but offered no resistance.
“You are spent.” He trailed a line of kisses along her cheek. “Let me help.”
At her soft sigh, he shredded the fabric and then slowly traced the smooth curve of his talon across her stomach, drawing a moan from her lips.
She shrugged out of her jacket and torn blouse, letting the clothing fall to the floor, and placed her hands against his chest. “What are you going to do to help?”
Her touch was like ice, cold and lifeless against his skin. He again sensed her fear and hunger. He knew the fear would only be calmed once her child was back safely in her arms. But her hunger twisted in his gut with an unspoken desperation that only increased his desire to feed her.
“First you are going to gain some strength.” He retracted the claw and covered her hands with one of his own. “Then we’re going to Mirabilus to get our son back and kill that bastard wizard once and for all.”
When she only nodded, he dipped his head to ask in a whisper, “What use will you be to the child if you’ve starved yourself?”
She tried to free her hands, but he held them securely against his chest. “I’m fine.”
Sean laughed softly at her lie. “You are far from fine.” He pulled her into his embrace asking, “When did you last feed?”
“I don’t remember.”
He cursed at the shakiness of her answer, released her from the circle of his embrace, swung her up into his arms and headed down the hall toward his bedroom.
She stared at him in shock. “What are you doing?”
“I would think that was obvious.” He kicked open the door, crossed the room and dropped her onto the bed.
When she scrambled, almost backstroking toward the far edge of the bed, he easily grasped her legs and pulled her back to him. Kneeling on the bed, he leaned over her and held her head between his cupped hands. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
Caitlin swallowed a cry of frustration at the concern she heard in his voice. She could claim that she had tried everything to contact him, but they’d both know that was a lie. Even though she’d been unable to reach him via the phone, she could have searched for him, driven here to Dragon’s Lair. While tracking him down might have angered him, he would have come to understand the need.
Or she could say she hadn’t wanted to tell him about the baby, but she would know the strength of that lie. She had wanted to tell him, wanted him by her side during the pregnancy and delivery, but her parents and the High Council had insisted vehemently that she hold on to that secret, going so far as to imprison her—a near death sentence for her—when they discovered that she had reached out to him by calling Dragon’s Lair.
Still, at this moment, she’d be safer back in her cell. This was the last place she wanted to be—and the only place she longed to be. Beneath his unwavering stare, she finally answered, “Because I don’t want to need you.”
His easy smile was her undoing. That smug, knowing, self-satisfied, all-male half smile was enough to make the walls she’d painstakingly erected around her emotions crash to her feet as nothing more than tiny shards of broken glass.
His gentle touch stroking her cheek, brushing the hair from her face, tracing her lips, coaxed a strangled cry from her.
Blinking back unwanted tears of shame and disgust at the ease of her surrender, she slipped her arms around him and whispered, “Damn you to hell, Drake.”
“At least I won’t be lonely with you by my side.”
Between his feathery kisses, she exclaimed, “I hate you.”
Again with that smile, he answered, “I know.”
“I’d rather we didn’t—”
He covered her mouth with his, effectively cutting off her words.
When his tongue swept across hers and he exhaled, his breath filled her. It warmed her and fed life into her starving soul. He had every reason to be angry with her, but still he freely shared his life force. How could she not set aside her misgivings?
It didn’t matter that she was a St. George, a slayer of dragons, or that he was a Drake and supposedly her mortal enemy. Nor did it matter what her family or the High Council thought best. She needed this—she needed him.
She had craved his touch for so many months now that she no longer cared what her parents or the council had said. They were wrong—all of them were wrong. They’d insisted that her obvious path was to kill the dragon and had expressed disappointment that she hadn’t done so when she’d had the chance. But she knew with a certainty she couldn’t explain, that her only path in life was to not kill the dragon. Without the beast, and the man, she feared she might be the one who died.
Without releasing her, his cell phone hit the nightstand right before she heard their clothes rustle to the floor and felt the cool breeze rush across her flesh. She greatly appreciated some of his more than handy skills.
He rolled onto his back, pulling her atop him, and broke their kiss. “Now, if you’re done complaining and protesting, let me help you. Take what you need, Caitlin.”
She sat up to straddle him, her hands flat on his chest. His expression was serious, no hint of teasing quirked his lips. His heart beat strong and steady beneath her palms, no uneven thumps to give evidence of a lie.
She wanted to accept his offer, but knew full well that she was so starved for his touch that things might get out of control this time. If she drained him, killed him, she’d never see her son again, and she’d spend the rest of her