Aeran & Rhys (Dragon Hearts 7) Read online

  At least that was how it had worked for Aeran’s six brothers.

  There had been a slight difference in Dylan’s mating to Holly, when he had actually plummeted from the sky merely flying above the hospital where his mate was working.

  Yet another anomaly had appeared when Grigor’s mate left the castle, and him, to return to her former life after the mating had been completed. Grigor had gone into a deep Dragon Sleep, which he had woken from only when Gayle returned to him.

  But this, there being two dragon shifters and one female, and the mating beginning without their mate taking some of the dragon aphrodisiac into her body, was something none of them could have expected.

  Aeran ran his hand wearily over his eyes. “Even if that’s true, how are the two of us supposed to share a mate? We don’t even like each other.”

  His brother scowled. “I like you just fine. You just irritate the hell out of me.”

  “Ditto.”

  Rhys gave one of his rare smiles. “Our mate is something else, though, hm?”

  “She’s many things, all of them good,” he agreed. Cristina was beautiful, strong, and brave, and eminently suitable as a dragon shifter’s mate. Except in this case, she would become the mate of two dragon shifters.

  Rhys’s scowl returned. “Did you persuade her into wearing something less revealing?”

  He gave a knowing smile. He agreed with Rhys that the thin camisole top and skimpy shorts, while sexy as hell, really weren’t suitable for Cristina to wear in the presence of other men. “She has one of my clean T-shirts and some sweats, both of which are going to be far too big for her,” he acknowledged ruefully.

  Rhys scowled. “Anything is better than what she was wearing earlier. I disliked intensely having Grigor and Deryk seeing Cristina in so few clothes, even though they’re both very happily mated.”

  “Me too,” Aeran acknowledged wryly. “But I can’t believe you threatened to spank her.” He gave a shake of his head.

  Rhys grinned. “She wants me to spank her. I could smell her arousal just thinking about it. She was so wet, her juices were soaking through those shorts.”

  Aeran had detected her arousal too.

  And his twenty-first-century man had been shocked by it?

  Not particularly. Whatever their mate wanted, he was willing to give it to her, and if Cristina wanted to be spanked, then Aeran would happily give her that too. He had a feeling he might enjoy seeing Cristina’s bottom cheeks reddened from half a dozen well-placed slaps. Before fucking her silly, of course.

  He sobered. “Are we going to be able to do this, Rhys?”

  His brother nodded. “We have no choice when the alternative is death. For all of us. We’ll make it work, Aeran. We have to,” he added fiercely.

  He voiced another of his concerns. “What are we going to do about her connection to Fescaru?”

  A nerve twitched in Rhys’s tightly clenched cheek. “She’s ours now. Besides, after sixteen hundred years of life, neither of us is exactly an innocent.”

  Aeran snorted. “It’s been a while.”

  Rhys eyes him curiously. “How long is a while?”

  “Fifty years or so. You?”

  Rhys shrugged. “A couple of centuries.”

  “A couple of…! Jesus, Rhys, how the hell did you manage that?”

  “It wasn’t difficult. Unless you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a grouch for the same amount of time,” Rhys mocked himself. “I was getting close to the edge,” he admitted quietly. “Finitely balanced on making that final shift into dragon. I thought it best to keep myself away if I did that final shift so that I didn’t hurt anyone before you could all hunt me down and kill me.”

  The knowledge of that possible final shift was something else the dragon shifter Pendragon brothers had been living with all this time. If they didn’t find their mate in time, they would go completely feral, shift into dragon, and remain that way as they forged a path of death and destruction before their brothers were able to find and destroy them. At the same time possibly revealing the dragons’ existence to humans.

  It was another reason why he and Aeran had to work together now they knew Cristina was mate to both of them. The alternative was death for them all.

  Before he met Cristina, Rhys hadn’t particularly minded the thought of dying, once he realized he was teetering on the edge of shifting and remaining dragon. He had welcomed it. But having met his mate, breathed in Cristina’s unique scent, and recognized her as being his, all that had changed. Rhys now wanted to live. To mate. To spend the rest of his long life in service to Cristina’s happiness and pleasure.

  “You should have told us.” Aeran frowned. “We all just thought you were a grumpy bastard.”

  “More of a grumpy bastard?” Rhys said dryly.

  “Well…yes.” His brother grimaced. “Thank God we’ve found Cristina in time.”

  “Which suite of rooms shall we use?” Rhys prompted on a more practical note. “Yours or mine?”

  “Your suite reminds me of a monk’s cell.”

  “Possibly because I’ve lived like a monk for the past two centuries. Besides, I was never in there.”

  “This suite, then.”

  “I believe Cristina would prefer it.” Rhys had been alone so long, it was going to take him a while to adapt to the thought of always putting his mate’s needs above his own. Aeran’s too, apparently. “We might just manage to do this between the two of us.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Aeran nodded.

  Rhys chuckled. “You can be the reasonable one, and I’ll be the disciplinarian.”

  “I’d like to spank her too occasionally.”

  The two men fell into a reflective muse for several minutes before Aeran roused himself to speak again. “When I mentioned Fescaru just now, I wasn’t referring to Cristina’s previous relationship with him. I meant she isn’t going to be happy about the fact we were both in full knowledge of and instrumental in the man’s capture and death.”

  Rhys grimaced. “We didn’t kill him, merely provided Nikolai Volkov with the information of where to find him. After what Fescaru almost did to Gayle, he deserved whatever the Russian decided to do with him.”

  Aeran winced. “I’m not sure Cristina will see it that way. Talking of which…” He glanced toward the closed bathroom door behind which the shower could still be heard running. “She’s been in there a hell of a long time.”

  The two men looked at each other, both seeming to come to the same conclusion at the same time as they rushed toward the adjoining bathroom.

  The water was still running in the huge walk-in shower cubicle, the steam fogging up the room, the glass doors of the shower cubicle, and the mirrored walls. But even so, it was obvious to both men that the room itself was empty.

  The small, open window beside the sink vanity showed the reason why it was.

  Cristina had escaped out the window.

  Rhys sniffed the air before moving closer to that open window. “She hurt herself climbing out.” He ran his fingers along the edge of the frame, lifting them to show fresh blood on his fingertips.

  Blood that would make tracking Cristina so much easier than merely following her scent.

  After which Rhys was definitely going to administer that first spanking, as a warning to Cristina never to try to leave them ever again.

  It was too cold and dark for Cristina to any longer believe that she had been caught up in a weird nightmare the past couple of hours. She hated being cold, would never have willingly dreamed of walking down a steep rock-strewn mountain that was cutting and abrading the soles of her feet. There was also a chill wind whipping about her face and body.

  None of which was helped by the fact she couldn’t seem to stop crying. For her father. For herself. For whatever this situation was.

  Nor was there any denying the fact that she was on a rugged mountain—that Rhys and Aeran claimed was in North Wales—with no lights visible as a sign of there being any habitation nea
rby. Which only made her cry harder.

  At least it was a moonless night. The white T-shirt and gray sweats Aeran had given her to wear, and which were far too big for her—the T-shirt reached almost down to her knees, and she had rolled up the bottom of the legs of the sweats, only keeping the sweats up at all by having pulled the tie tight and fastening it about her waist—would have been far too easy to spot otherwise. Because she knew, without a single doubt, that Aeran and Rhys would try to track her down the moment they realized she was no longer in the bathroom.

  If she could just get to a road. Any road. She would have a better surface for walking, and the road had to lead somewhere, right? Of course it did—

  Cristina let out a scream as there was a sudden rush of air that whipped her hair even more wildly about her face, followed by the appearance of two huge—two huge—

  What the hell were these things?

  They looked like—like—

  Twenty-foot-tall dragons!

  “You’ve been naughty, little girl.” The paler of the two’s voice reverberated in the darkness.

  “Very much so.” The second one’s voice was just as deep.

  Talking twenty-foot-tall dragons.

  “You hurt yourself escaping out the window,” the first dragon rebuked.

  “Where are you injured, mate?” The second dragon added its disapproval.

  “It’s just a scrape on my knee.” Cristina was so shocked by this whole situation, she found herself answering them.

  The first dragon sniffed the air. “You’re still bleeding.”

  “You have also been crying,” the second dragon admonished.

  “Well, of course I’ve been crying,” she snapped. “This might all seem normal to you, but it’s fucking weird to me.”

  “Watch your language,” the darker dragon growled.

  “Show respect,” the other one snapped.

  Cristina knew instinctively that the paler dragon was Rhys; it had called her “little girl,” after all, and demanded “respect,” just like he did. Which meant the slightly darker one was Aeran?

  Confirming that Rhys had been sniffing the air at her father’s apartment.

  Because he could smell her. At least, his dragon could.

  Rhys’s eyes were the color of aquamarine.

  And Aeran’s were a deeper shade of amethyst.

  And before her stood two dragons, one with luminous aquamarine eyes and one a bright amethyst.

  Was this the reason for all the Pendragon brothers having different-colored eyes? Because they were the color of their dragon?

  What the hell am I doing?

  Who gave a shit what the brothers’ strange eye color had to do with anything when there were two bloody great dragons standing in front of her?

  Dragons!

  Dragons didn’t exist, for God’s sake. They were a myth. Legend. Stories made up to scare the peasants and nobles alike during medieval times.

  The same time period that Aeran and Rhys claimed they had been born.

  “Time to go home for your spanking,” the Rhys dragon growled.

  “We’re both looking forward to it,” the Aeran dragon added with obvious relish.

  “Maybe then you’ll think twice about running away from us in future and putting yourself in danger,” Rhys rumbled.

  Putting herself in danger? The only danger Cristina was aware of right now came from these two…two…two men who could shift into dragons.

  She eyed them warily. “Are the two of you friends again now?”

  “We’re your mates. Your happiness is all that matters to us,” the Rhys dragon stated firmly.

  Cristina shook her head. “I don’t even want to know what that means. But what would make me really happy is for you to let me leave here so I can go back to London and forget any of this ever happened.”

  “We will allow you many things, mate, but you will not leave us,” the Rhys dragon snapped.

  “Never that,” Aeran confirmed.

  Cristina swallowed hard. Was she really standing here, halfway down a Welsh mountain, her feet sore and bleeding, her knee aching, wearing men’s clothing that was far too big for her, and having a conversation with two huge dragons?

  Not just any dragons, but ones that could shift into the devastatingly attractive Aeran and Rhys Pendragon?

  The spanking comment seemed to confirm that was exactly who she was talking to.

  Chapter 5

  “Remove the sweatpants so I can see and heal your injured knee,” Rhys instructed.

  Cristina was in a completely dazed state after being flown back to the roof of Pendragon castle in Rhys’s dragon arms, this time at a nod of consent from the amethyst dragon. The flight had been surprisingly smooth, the landing graceful for two such huge beasts. They had then seemed to shimmer before materializing as the fully clothed and muscular Rhys and Aeran Pendragon.

  Cristina was still too stunned, in fact, to resist now when Rhys took a firm grasp of the top of the sweatpants and pulled them down her thighs himself before sitting on the couch and tugging her forward. “What are you doing?” she gasped as she felt the rasp of his tongue against the flesh of her knee.

  He sat back seconds later. “Healing you.”

  Cristina glanced down to where her knee had been scratched and sore a few seconds ago. It no longer hurt, and the flesh was completely healed. “How did you do that?” she gasped.

  He shrugged. “A healing ingredient in our saliva.”

  “That’s incredible!”

  “Would you like to see what other magic we can do with our tongues?” Aeran teased with a suggestive lick of his lips.

  Color burned her cheeks. “Not just now, thank you.”

  “So polite now,” Rhys drawled before sobering. “I can still smell blood.”

  Cristina’s cheeks grew even hotter. “Well, it’s not for the reason you might think.”

  Aeran shook his head. “Menstrual blood has a different scent than that of an injury. You are not ovulating right now.”

  Cristina briefly squeezed her eyes closed. “I really didn’t need to know that.” Her eyes opened wide. “You can tell whether or not I’m ovulating?”

  Aeran nodded. “Once you have been fully claimed, your ovulation will begin.”

  “For now, you will tell us where you are still injured, mate,” Rhys demanded. “You will tell us now.”

  “Bossy much?”

  “Bossy a lot,” he confirmed unrepentantly.

  She stared at them both defiantly. “I didn’t have any shoes to wear when I left, so—so I cut my feet going down the mountain, okay?”

  “No, it is not okay.” Rhys pulled her forward until she stumbled and ended up sitting on his knee. “I will allow you the privilege this time,” he invited his brother. “She tastes delicious.”

  Cristina didn’t know whether to giggle from the rough feel of Aeran’s tongue delicately licking the cut flesh on the soles of her feet, or groan at the sensual pleasure of having every inch of that flesh tended to so intimately.

  Rhys stood her back on her feet—her completely healed feet—when Aeran had finished his ministration. “Leave them,” he rasped when she would have pulled the sweats back up. “Pull the T-shirt up to your waist and place yourself over my knee.” He looked up at her expectantly from where he had made himself more comfortable on the couch.

  “Absolutely not,” she snapped, grateful the T-shirt was long enough to cover her down to mid-thigh even with the sweats still pulled down.

  “Would you prefer I was the first one to spank you?” Aeran prompted lightly from where he was now seated in one of the huge armchairs.

  The first one?

  Cristina glared at both of them. “I would prefer that you both go to hell!”

  Aeran grinned at this brother. “Feisty.”

  “A little warrior,” Rhys drawled appreciatively.

  Aeran eyed his brother curiously, knowing that for Rhys to call Cristina a warrior that his brother
’s emotions, like his own, were already very much invested with their mate.

  Even so, if Aeran had seen even the slightest trace of fear in Cristina’s rebellious expression, then he might have persuaded Rhys to back down in punishing her. Might have. Because having their mate deliberately do anything to put herself in danger was unacceptable, to both him and Rhys.

  “The people who ransacked Fescaru’s apartment are still out there,” he reminded her.

  “And, whether you realize it or not, they’re going to come looking for you,” Rhys added grimly.

  She visibly tensed. “Why are they?”

  “Because people like the Romanian Mafia don’t like loose ends,” Aeran explained.

  She blinked. “I’m a loose end?”

  “You were Fescaru’s mistress,” Rhys added hardly.

  Her eyes widened. “But I don’t know anything. My— Cezar never discussed any of his business with me.”

  Rhys’s eyes narrowed at this reminder the other man had probably been too busy fucking his young mistress to have energy left over for talking. “The new head of the Romanian Mafia doesn’t know that.”

  The length of Cristina’s creamy soft throat moved as she swallowed. “They’ve chosen him already?”

  Aeran nodded. “The ransacking of Fescaru’s apartment would seem to imply that’s the case, yes.”

  Rhys patted his thighs in invitation. “Over you go, princess.”

  Cristina consider “princess” to be a slight improvement on “little girl,” but not much of one. She had preferred “little warrior.” “There is no way I’m going to willingly drape myself over your thighs and let you spank me.”

  He shrugged. “I have no problem with unwillingly. You?” he prompted his brother lightly.

  “None at all,” Aeran drawled.

  “I have a problem with it,” Cristina insisted. This being outnumbered two to one could get very old very quickly.

  Rhys’s pale eyes narrowed on her. “We weren’t asking permission. Now place yourself over my thighs, or I’ll do it for you,” he added in a hard voice.