Page 2 of My Treasure
He gulped the cool water from the cup I held by his lips, then sank back onto the pillow. I brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead, and his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings. His red-rimmed blue eyes blinked up at me, puzzled.
“Who are you?” he rasped.
“My name is Fergus. I found you in the forest.”
He took a shuddering breath. “I don’t remember you. I remember a creature with wings, hot breath… Big claws. A demon took me.”
“You fainted, Gillam.”
“I must have been dreaming.”
Was he aware he was leaning into my touches? I traced his cheek with my thumb, and he kept staring at me drowsily. “I know you,” he said. “You smell familiar.”
I smiled. He was responding to my scent already. “We met in the palace park. You might not remember. You lost your glove.”
“And you returned it to me. You rode a black horse.”
“That’s correct.”
I’d chosen him that night—after one whiff of his scent, the dragon knew Gillam was my mate. I would have competed for him and won. Except his snake of a father,our king, had decided to forfeit the traditional tournament and give his son to one of his lords, no doubt as a payment for loyalty. Gillam had run away before I could make my claim and challenge Buer to a fight.
“Who are you?”
“I live at the foot of the mountain. You’re in my home.”
Tired as he was, he didn’t even notice I avoided his question. A shallow crease appeared on his smooth forehead. “The journey must have taken days.”
“I’m fast.”
He looked at me curiously, but soon his eyes closed. I petted him, and he fell asleep again.
His scent was changing fast, his heat nearing, but he slept peacefully. I hoped he’d feel safe with me when the time came.
3
GILLAM
Maybe I’d already died.In that case, death was a wonderful state.
A lovely scent seeped into my lungs, and warmth enveloped my muscles. I burrowed closer, and the softest velvet caressed my cheeks and palms. Mmm. I took another deep breath and sighed. Oh, it smelled wonderful. Was I naked? My skin tingled in unfamiliar places, and the warmth moved against me.
Hands. I’d never been touched before! Not like this, with big, coarse hands and strong fingers, hot on my back. They slid up and down along my spine. My eyes popped open, but I couldn’t see. Yellow light flickered and got overshadowed again. The dizzying scent got stronger. Deep sighs and quiet moans reached my ears.
Was that me making those sounds?
I couldn’t keep them down.
“Shh. I’m here.”
His voice. I was withhim. The stranger from my dreams—Fergus was his name. It was his scent, his hands, his warmth. He was holding me, petting me tenderly. His lips brushed my forehead. I had no will of my own when I strained closer. I tucked my face into the crook of his powerful neck and opened my mouth over his skin. I needed more of his scent, his essence. I needed to drink it. Lick it. The taste!
“You were shivering, love, and called my name in your sleep.”
Did I? I’d dreamed of him. A formidable alpha, tall like a giant with wide shoulders and broad hands that could crush boulders. But his smile was so tender, and his dark eyes looked wise and deep. They seemed to shine golden around his irises. He’d fed me when I was too weak to move, bathed me with tenderness, combed his fingers through my hair… He’d kept me warm, and I’d felt safe and happy. Had that been a dream? Now I breathed him in, and he smelled so wonderful I couldn’t tear myself away.
Who was Fergus? And what was I doing, clinging to him like this? Was I even awake?
My body didn’t seem to care about any of those questions. I was naked in the arms of a stranger, licking his skin shamelessly. My groin ached horribly. My shaft strained between my legs, my insides clenched, and an insistent yearning spread through my guts. The hollow, itchy sensation grew and grew, until I writhed and whimpered. Suddenly, wetness leaked out of my hole, the oily liquid smearing my crease.
