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  Rordan stepped closer to Kira, but never took his eyes off his opponent. Ander danced away from them, back to the cave entrance. But Rordan noticed the way he held a hand to his neck and was a little unsteady. The wood was working its way into the boy’s system, weakening him.

  Ander threw his head back and laughed. “This way I get to live forever. Have everything I ever wanted.” His dark gaze turned on Kira. “Starting with her.” He looked at Rordan. “After you’re dead.”

  He clapped his hands. The growl of the earth changed to a roar.

  Rordan glanced up in time to see slabs of rock falling toward him and Kira. He jumped, but knew it was too late.

  He collided with Kira, pushed her out of the way.

  Then pain crashed into him and the darkness dragged him under.

  “Sarkany!” Kira clawed at the horrific pile of rubble covering the fallen knight. Oh, God. What if he was dead? Could anyone, even a full-blood dragon, survive being crushed?

  Where was the wild? She glanced over her shoulder, searching for the earth dragon. The cave entrance was blocked by an impassable pile of debris. Even the alcove with the dragon’s hoard and the girl’s body was buried under rubble.

  There was no sign of Ander. He had to be on the other side of the blocked entrance. She’d seen Sarkany’s wood magic affect him and guessed he’d gone to lick his wounds. To recover before he came back to finish them off.

  She had to save Sarkany.

  “Sarkany.” She picked up a huge boulder and heaved it away. “Rordan.”

  Please, please be alive. He could have escaped the rockfall, but instead, he’d wasted precious time saving her from serious injury. Or death.

  Please be alive.

  A sly voice in her head told her she should be happy. This was the man who killed Marek. Now he’d been punished.

  “No.” She didn’t question the wild need for Rordan to be alive. She blocked all her thoughts and focused on finding him.

  She barely noticed when her fingers started bleeding; she just kept heaving the rocks away. Then she saw one strong forearm emerge, banded by a cracked Rolex. She scrambled closer, pushed away another rock.

  His eyes were closed and he was covered in soil, dust and blood. His once white shirt was filthy.

  “Oh, God.” She brushed a shaky hand over his face. “Rordan? Can you hear me?”

  She slid her fingers down his neck. Felt a thready pulse.

  “Thank God.” She closed her eyes as dizziness washed through her. “Okay. I’m going to get you out of there.”

  Large rocks still pinned his legs. She hooked her hands under his armpits and bracing her legs, pulled hard. It was tough work. He was big and heavy, and so were the rocks holding him. She needed all her dragon strength to pull him free. Soon her chest was heaving and sweat rolled down her face, but with one last tug, he was free.

  Kira stumbled and landed with Rordan on top of her. Was that the third or fourth time today? She crawled out from under him and worried when he didn’t even stir. Kneeling beside him, she pulled his head into her lap and scanned his injuries.

  She winced and her heart gave a sharp thump. It was bad. Blood soaked his clothes and his leg was broken.

  “Why did you did do it?” With gentle hands, she probed one of his chest wounds. She couldn’t understand why he’d risked his life like this. Especially after the lecture he’d given her on never giving a wild a chance.

  She’d seen the way he’d looked at what had once been his squire, seen his distress. Why couldn’t he just be the ruthless killer she wanted him to be? It would be so much easier for her to hate him.

  Of its own accord, one hand brushed through his thick hair, swept it off his face. He was so pale. He always looked strong and healthy, so larger than life. It shook her to see him like this.

  “You should have killed him straight away, you big idiot.” She rubbed his hair between her fingers. “Instead, you tried to save him.”

  Did he blame himself because the boy had turned? Was there more to the Savage Dragon than she wanted to believe? Questions echoed in her head, but she couldn’t think about them now. Right now he needed her.

  She knew his dragon blood would already be healing him. If he had any internal bleeding, she prayed it didn’t kill him before it healed. She wasn’t a healer and she didn’t have a first-aid kit handy, so all she could do was get his wounds clean.

  After laying him out flat, Kira yanked her coat from around her waist and balled it under his head. She pulled a crushed cell phone off his belt and tossed it aside. His shirt was ruined and sticking to his chest wounds. It had to come off.

  She maneuvered him into a sitting position. “I’m going to take care of you.” She didn’t even bother with the shirt’s buttons. Using her dragon strength, she ripped the shirt off.

  Well, this was something she never thought she’d be doing—tearing Rordan Sarkany’s clothes off.

  Liar, her dragon whispered. Kira shifted uncomfortably and laid him back down. Okay, maybe she’d thought about it. He’d always affected her, even when she’d been too young to understand.

  His chest was hard and muscled. It was smooth, free of hair, the left side covered by an elegant tattoo of a dragon. All knights of the Order of the Dragon bore a tattoo, a mark of their rank. She still remembered the sting of getting hers when she’d been knighted.

  The wood dragon’s head rested on Rordan’s muscled pectoral, its long body and tail extended down, over a washboard abdomen. Her hand brushed over his hot skin and traced the stylish image. For a second she thought it glowed and snatched her hand back. But when she looked again, the elegant design was just smeared with blood and covered in cuts.

  “I’ll get you cleaned up.” A dragon’s body temperature ran hotter than a human’s, but his skin was burning. That meant his body was at work healing itself. “You’ll be fine.”

  She summoned her element. A ball containing water appeared, hanging in midair, held in place by her magic. After ripping a strip of fabric off the bottom of her shirt, she dipped it in the water. Starting with his face, she began cleaning the scrapes and scratches.

  As a girl, she’d watched the Order training arena and only had eyes for Rordan. He’d always been taller and bigger than the others his age. Even as a young knight, he’d already been making a name for himself. He was the reason she’d defied her parents’ demands she go to university and joined the Order, instead.

  She dipped the cloth in the water again and worked her way down his chest. It bore the scars of previous fights. Dragons healed quickly, but if a wound wasn’t cleaned properly, or if it was too deep, it scarred. She washed away the filth and moved to his stomach. She skimmed the cloth over five parallel scars. They were still red, shiny, not very old.

  She had a similar scar—the slash of a wild dragon claw.

  Had Marek done this?

  Her fingers went numb. She didn’t want to picture Marek as the beast, covered in scales, hands morphed into sharp claws.

  Had her brother tortured and killed before Rordan had delivered the death blow? Her chest tightened. The image of the broken body of the woman, now buried under rocks, flickered into her head like a horror movie.

  She shook her head. No. Marek could never have done that, not sweet, smiling Marek. The girl’s image faded, replaced by one of Rordan and Marek fighting. Of Marek dying.

  Releasing a shaky breath, she dipped the cloth again and wrung out the water. She went back to work on Rordan’s wounds.

  God, she was confused. She felt tugged in two directions: on one side was the memory of her charming, loving brother, and on the other was the impressive man, the incredible knight who was the reason Marek was dead.

  She was torn by the love for her brother and the irresistible fascination she felt for the warrior in her arms.

  Chapter Five

  Vicious jaws of pain held Rordan in their brutal grip. Razor-sharp teeth pierced his skin, red-hot breath burned through his organs, jag
ged claws gripped his head tight. He struggled against the beast.

  “Shh.”

  A cool hand brushed over his forehead. The voice was soothing, as was the fresh scent teasing his senses—it smelled like the ocean at morning. The pain dimmed.

  His body was healing; he felt bones knitting, skin mending. But the process was painful. The hand slipped over his cheek, brushed down his neck and ran across his chest. As smooth as down and as gentle as the brush of butterfly wings.

  “It’s okay, Rordan. I’m here.”

  The touch changed and became a caress. It left a trail of sensation in its wake, over his chest and lower. The heat started, the burn on his skin echoing the blaze igniting in his gut. His dragon stirred and a rush of arousing, healing heat poured through him, obliterating the pain.

  Rordan opened his eyes and stared straight at Kira, where she knelt beside him. He fought through the fog in his head as her hand smoothed over the ink etched into his skin. Had she just called him by his given name?

  Mine. His dragon strained for her. Rordan reached over and grabbed her wrist. Her startled gaze flew to his face. She tried to snatch her hand away, but he held tight. He didn’t want to lose her touch.

  “You’re awake.” Her words were rushed, her voice husky. “Ah, how are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been hit by a train.”

  “You’re damned lucky to be alive, Sarkany. I thought you were dead.” Her voice firmed and when she tugged her hand again, he released her. “Your injuries were bad and you have no one to blame but yourself.”

  His first instinct had been to protect Kira. He tried to tell himself it was his training—a knight always protected—but he knew he was lying. He couldn’t bear to see her body twisted and broken, hurt in any way. Seeing the emotional hurt he’d already heaped on her was bad enough.

  “What the hell were you doing, Sarkany?” Her skin drew tight across her cheekbones. “After all the grief you gave me about never giving a wild the advantage, you went and did it in the biggest way possible. That kid played you.”

  He ignored her outburst and pushed himself up to a sitting position. He was feeling better, but his body ached as he moved, especially his leg. He swallowed back a groan. She must have sensed his pain, because a slim arm slid around him.

  When her skin brushed over his bare back, he swallowed back another groan. She helped him lean back against the wall.

  “You were no better than an untried squire. Do you have a death wish?”

  Her hot tone matched the steamy air of the cave. She sounded pretty upset about a man she hated. He studied her as she knelt there, hot color staining her cheeks, working herself into a temper.

  God, she was beautiful. He’d come close to dying without ever knowing the taste of her, the feel of her skin, the sensation of driving into her body.

  “Why?” She threw her hands up. “Why would the Savage Dragon let a wild get the best of him?”

  “Kira—”

  She slashed a hand down. “There’s no excuse for risking your life that way.”

  Touch her. Take her. Heaving a deep breath, Rordan wrestled his dragon into submission. Trying to take his mind off his desires, he lifted a hand to touch a scrape on his chest.

  She batted his hand away. “Leave it. It’s almost healed.” She put her hands on her hips. “I want some answers, Sarkany.”

  Her braid fell over her shoulder and his fingers itched to pull the tawny strands loose. He wanted to see them falling around her face, over her bare shoulders. He just wanted her.

  She huffed out a breath. “I don’t understand why you did it.”

  “Don’t you?” His voice was very quiet.

  She was about to continue her tirade, but her mouth snapped shut. He reached out and tucked away a strand of hair escaping her braid. The tension in the warm air thickened. “Don’t you see why?”

  She shook her head, watching him warily. “No.”

  “I did it for you.”

  Her mouth dropped open. They stared at each other. He could almost see the thoughts and emotions churning behind her eyes. An invisible line of tension formed between them, twining them closer.

  “And I did it for me. For the dragons I’ve killed.” Unable to help himself, he grabbed her braid and gently tugged her closer. He began undoing the strands and pulling them free.

  “What are you doing, Sarkany?” Her voice held a slick edge of panic.

  His fingers kept working. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew he couldn’t go another minute without touching her, without making her his. “You called me Rordan earlier. I heard you.”

  She closed her eyes, like she was fighting something deep within herself.

  Then her hair was free. He sank his hands into the rich, silky strands and spread them out around her. It suited her like this, She looked wild, sensual.

  Her hands clamped around his thick wrists. “Don’t do this.”

  The skin of her hands was fire hot. A sure sign of her arousal, her dragon burning inside her. Just as his blazed.

  Her hands tightened. “I can’t do this.”

  He pulled her closer, until their breaths mingled. “I need to taste you, Kira.”

  “This can’t happen.” Her gaze dropped to his lips. “There are reasons.”

  He tugged her forward onto his lap, her sleek thighs straddling him.

  She tried to scramble away. “No. Your leg.”

  He held her still and ran his hands up into her hair again. “I’m fine. Almost healed.”

  She glanced down at his chest. The raw scrape was gone, the skin smooth again. Her blue eyes blazed with fire, but confusion was still etched into her fine features. “Rordan—”

  The sound of his name on her lips drove him over the edge. He leaned forward and claimed her lips in a desperate kiss.

  She stayed still for a second, then she moaned. Her lips parted and he thrust his tongue in the moist cavern of her mouth. She tasted like desire, hot and wild, better than he’d imagined in all his fantasies.

  She wrenched her mouth away. “This is wrong.”

  “It doesn’t feel wrong.” It felt so right. She felt so right. He slid his hands up to cup her cheeks. Her skin was soft under his fingers, such a contrast to her tough persona. He slid a thumb down her throat, felt her rapid pulse and the shiver of response that racked her.

  She bit her lip and groaned. With one hand, she tugged his head back to meet her lips. Their mouths fused and the pulsing hunger in him grew. She kissed him with no hesitation, pressed against him, small erotic noises echoing in her throat.

  His hand closed over her breast through her shirt. The heavy weight of it was perfect. She was perfect. He caught one taut nipple between his fingers. She jerked and her hands gripped his shoulders.

  He had to touch her—skin to skin. He had to feel her heated body against him. His fingers worked to unfasten her shirt, the buttons feeling small in his eager hands. He had to see her naked, had to imprint himself on her. He shoved the shirt down her arms, then ripped her bra away. And freed her breasts to his gaze.

  God. A volcano of heat seared his belly. Her gold medallion hung snug in the cleavage of her full breasts. It was engraved with the symbol of the Order—a wild dragon forming a circle with its tale.

  “Kira. I burn for you.” His words were stark with need. This woman cleared away everything inside him and left him filled with only a desperate craving for her.

  His big hands shaping her ribs, he jerked her up and closed his mouth over her breast.

  Kira arched her back and cried out as Rordan suckled strongly at her breast. Fiery heat licked along her skin and wild sensations flared inside her. Her hands tangled in his thick hair, cradling his head.

  This was crazy. She’d never felt this fire before.

  His mouth slid back up her neck, over her heated, sensitized skin. Once again he took her lips. He explored her mouth, and the taste of him was tantalizing. She met him stroke for stroke, touch
for touch, but even as he took everything she offered, he demanded more.

  She had reasons not to do this, but they’d disappeared in a puff of smoke. The fire was too hot, too intense. She writhed in his lap and felt his arousal hot and hard beneath her. Molten heat swirled inside her, rushing through her veins.

  He lifted his dark head. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

  She was lost, drowning in the sensations he sparked in her. She needed him to quench the fire. She wanted to finally know how they’d fit together. How it would feel to have him surging into her welcoming body.

  “Touch me, Rordan,” she panted.

  He growled and lowered his head again to her other breast. His clever tongue, electric and hot, swirled over her skin. One of his hands slid down her body, then unsnapped her trousers. The muscles in her belly clenched in violent anticipation.

  His fingers brushed her skin below her navel. She writhed against him, lost in the heat. Mentally she urged him to hurry, to touch her where she was hot and wet. His hand wedged between tight leather and smooth skin. She lifted her hips to allow him better access.

  “You smell so good.” His tongue danced over her nipple. “Like fresh water and hot sex.”

  One long finger slid inside her panties. Taunted, teased, tortured. How could she want so much? She whimpered, was ready to beg. Before she could say anything, he slid deep inside her.

  Kira bucked against him in wild abandon. The sensations were startling, washing over her in a rush. He worked another finger inside, stretching her in a sensual assault.

  Then his thumb brushed against her small nub and pleasure seared through her. Her fingernails dug into his slick shoulders. “Rordan!”

  “You are so tight, so…warm.” His breathing was labored, his words strained.

  She felt his blood rushing under his skin. His erection was even bigger and harder beneath her. She wanted to touch him, taste him and drive him as crazy as he had her.

  The inferno inside built, every muscle in her body tightened, strained. Begged for release. “Rordan, please.” She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for.