Rebel Dragon Page 13

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Like I said, not a good idea.”

  Jenna figured Connor might say that. She took a deep breath and stared him down, having decided on the way over she wasn’t taking no for an answer. So she widened her stance and scowled at him. We can do this the hard way or the easy way, mister. I need you to teach me, and you will.

  But the little line of sweat sliding down his bare chest screwed with her mind, and she could barely get a single sentence out right.

  Hard way, his firm eyes said.

  When she’d first found him working on the plantation house — halfway up a ladder, shirtless, and glistening with sweat — she’d whispered a little Lord have mercy to herself. Maybe getting up close and personal for private lessons with Connor wasn’t such a good idea. She might learn about all those amazing muscle groups and fascinating scars, but she’d be too flustered to remember anything about defending herself.

  He crossed his arms, making his dog tags jingle in an unnecessary reminder of his credentials. “A knife like that is not something to mess with.”

  Her cheeks heated, and she saw red. Did he think she was messing around?

  “Are you saying a woman can’t fight for herself?” She stuck an accusing finger at his chest.

  “No, but—”

  “Are you saying I should sit back and let someone else protect me?”

  “Listen, Jenna—”

  “Are you saying I should let this stalker come at me when I have no means of self-defense?”

  Connor went totally stiff and growled. “Stalker? What stalker?”

  Oops. She hadn’t intended to mention that, except maybe as a last resort. She turned on her heel and marched away. “Forget it. I’ll just figure this out for myself.”

  She’d half expected him to follow, but wow. Before she had even shifted her weight, Connor had caught her hand and turned her around to face him.

  “What stalker?”

  She was about an inch away from his bare chest by then. Heart thumping. Face flushed. Girl parts way too excited for a woman who was supposed to be scared.

  “A stalker who may or may not be a vampire. Who I may or may not be able to use this knife on.” Her voice rose with all the anger and frustration she hadn’t been able to release before. “A stalker who makes me feel like I have no control of my life. So, damn it, I really need help, all right?”

  She was puffing by then and glaring, too. Connor stuck his hands up and tilted his head as if to say, She really is a new species. I’ve never met someone like her before.

  Finally, his mouth opened, and he grunted one word. So quietly, she barely heard it over the sound of pumping blood in her ears.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, I’ll teach you. Just calm down.”

  “I am calm,” she growled, gesturing with the knife.

  Conner’s eyebrows knotted as he replied. “Yeah, I can see that.” Then he cleared his throat and looked her over again. Differently this time, like a man sizing up a used car, judging just how functional it might — or might not — be. Then he cupped a hand and called up toward the roof. “Hey, Tim.”

  “Yeah?” an equally gruff voice called, and Tim popped into view. “Oh. Hiya, Jenna.” His eyes widened at the knife in her hands.

  “Hi,” she said, still a little curt from her outburst.

  “It’s time to wrap up for the day,” Connor said.

  “But—”

  “I said, time to wrap up,” Connor barked.

  Which is when it dawned on Jenna that she’d pretty much barged in on him.

  “Right. No problem,” Tim murmured, disappearing from view.

  “Sorry,” Jenna said, suddenly flustered. Maybe her problems didn’t have to be other people’s problems. Maybe Connor had enough of his own. Everyone had been so friendly at dinner the previous night, but they’d been weary, too. There were tools all over the place and a dozen projects progressing at once. Clearly, everyone at Koakea was hustling to get a big job done.

  “Sorry.” She sheathed the knife. “Not so important. Maybe some other time.”

  “Nope,” Connor said, taking her by the arm. “Give me two minutes, and we’re on.”

  And just like that, he was in charge. Really in charge, like he had a whole platoon of recruits to whip into shape and a battle to march into at dawn.

  “If it’s not a good time…” she mumbled.

  “Never a good time to fight vampires,” he muttered, leading her off toward the barn. “Or a stalker. You want to tell me about that?”

  She frowned. “Not really, no.”

  He stared at her, and she stuck her hands on her hips.

  “Look, Cruz is on it. Jody gave me this knife, and I doubt I’ll ever have to use it. But I sure would sleep better if I knew how to use it.”

  “I would sleep better if you told me.”

  She laughed bitterly. “I doubt that. Just thinking about it makes me…” She trailed off there, because she hadn’t come to show weakness or doubt. She’d come to prepare herself for the worst, which she hoped would never come.

  Connor bristled for a long minute then finally nodded. “Okay.”

  She stared, and one whispered word slipped past her lips. “Finally.”

  He tilted his head. “Finally?”

  She gave herself a little shake. “Not you. It’s just good to have someone not treat me like a little kid.”

  The right side of his mouth crooked up. “Of all the things you make me think of, Jenna, little kid is not one.” His eyes drifted up and down her body then locked on hers, telling her woman was more like it. A woman he respected to make her own decisions and to choose how much she wanted to divulge.

  Wow. She nearly pinched him to check if he was real or a dream.

  “So,” Connor’s tone went from resigned to calculating, and he looked around. “First, we need a training knife…”

  She glowed a little at the we, like suddenly, they were a team.

  “Some water…”

  He muttered as he went, leading her to a clearing behind the barn. He disappeared then returned moments later with a few things. He guzzled down an entire bottle of water then wiped his glistening lips.

  “This is for you.” He tossed something at her.

  She yelped when she realized it was a knife, and it landed on the ground with a dull thump. “Oh. Training weapon, huh?” She picked up the dull resin knife, turning pink.

  “Yep. So no one gets killed. No one we don’t want dead, at least.”

  Connor managed to say that in a way that bolstered her instead of terrifying her, but still, she shook a little. Was she really prepared to use a knife?

  Enjoying your sunsets, my pet?

  She tightened her grip on the knife and gave herself a quick nod. She could do this.

  “So, I guess I’m sneaking up on you, right?” Connor asked, all businesslike.

  She nodded curtly. Yes, sneaking up sounded about right for a cowardly stalker.

  Connor circled behind her, and the hair on the back of her neck tingled in anticipation. She knew he was back there, but she couldn’t see what he was doing. Couldn’t judge how near or far he was.

  “So we’ll play it out slowly,” Connor murmured from right behind her ear.

  A shiver went through her body — the good kind, because she’d fantasized about him whispering from about there many times. Every one of her fantasies of wild, raging sex ended that way — with warm whispers and soul-nurturing cuddles, all skin-to-skin.

  “Okay,” she croaked, piquing her senses, hoping he’d touch her soon.

  Slowly, gently, he put his hand on her shoulder in a way no stalker would ever do. A way that made her feel safe and protected instead of scared for her life. Then he turned her and looked into her eyes.

  Her mouth fell open, because his eyes were glowing like brilliant jade lights. The way Cruz’s eyes sometimes glowed when he looked at Jody, his mate.


  Connor reached for her neck so slowly, she almost leaned in for a caress. But when his hand closed around her neck — tenderly, yet firmly — she remembered what the lesson was about.

  “So now I think I have you. But you’ve got a knife…”

  His deep voice worked its way into her bones and wandered around there for a little while, like a cat rubbing up against all the furniture it could find, marking everything as his.

  Her heart thumped. Her blood rushed. Her cheeks went all warm.

  Another quiet second ticked by, and Connor finally whispered. “Jenna.”

  She snapped out of her reverie and ducked to reach her calf. “Right. Knife.”

  But she couldn’t get anywhere, not with that huge hand wrapped around her neck like a yoke.

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “Gotta get free first.”

  “Right. So… uh…” She wracked her head for something from self-defense class and came up with that move where she was supposed to sweep her hands around and chop down to get free. It didn’t work, and Connor shook his head.

  “Again.”

  She tried it again, growing angry at herself, and this time, he grinned. “Better. You can use that or a head butt. Or you can knee the guy in the balls.” Then he held out a hand and added quickly, “But please don’t go for my balls.”

  That grin of his did all kinds of dangerous things to her body, and she nearly licked her lips. But Connor grew serious and nodded curtly. “Now try it again, and once you’re free, go for your knife.”

  He hid behind her and started the whole process again. Over and over until useless became clunky and clunky eventually became passable.

  “Not bad. Now your grip,” he ordered, taking her hand in his.

  Jenna had never imagined fighting could be so wickedly arousing, but damn. With a teacher like Connor standing over her shoulder, nice and close, guiding her through every move…

  “Outward grip. Thumb there, index finger there…”

  His callused fingers guided hers into position, and his body boxed her in.

  “Okay, index finger to the front, flip it, and grab,” he murmured, showing her how to position the grip in her palm. “Index finger, flip, grab.”

  A bead of sweat built on her brow as she concentrated on the feel of his body and the angle of the knife. The position of his elbow as he demonstrated the move, and the way the blade turned in her hand. Somehow, sensual and practical became one, and it didn’t matter which was which anymore.

  “Now push my arm away, and aim here…” he murmured, pointing at a dip in his collarbone.

  She was tempted to aim her lips there instead, but okay. As long as she got to stay this close to him…

  Even cold and calculating terms like dig for the clavicular artery or go for the soft tissue of the neck wafted like clouds across the sky of her mind. All hovering at a safe distance from the thinking part of her brain. It was all action, all instinct.

  Connor started changing up his moves, catching her off guard, making the exercise more realistic. Then he pinned her arms behind her back. She wiggled and grunted, struggling to get free.

  “So, are you ready to give up?” he asked, an inch from her ear.

  Her blood rushed. “Hell no.”

  He chuckled. “Good.”

  He showed her how to break out of that hold, too, which was her favorite move yet. She got to go from having her back held firmly against Connor’s chest to turning to face him from an inch away.

  “Now, let’s suppose he pushes you to the ground…” Connor said, hooking his foot around hers.

  She didn’t fall because he lowered her gently and followed her down, pinning her knife hand above her head. His knees came down on either side of her hips, and his bare chest came parallel to hers.

  Not a single alarm went off in Jenna’s mind, because it wasn’t intimidating at all. Just…good. Solid. Snug and secure. Her body was all achy, though, and her lips yearned for his.

  “So you need to consider your options,” he said in a slightly hoarse voice.

  Oh, she was considering her options, all right. Like using her free hand to guide his head down and get those hungry lips within reach.

  His mouth opened and closed. A bead of sweat slid down his brow. That tic started up in his right cheek exactly as it had the night they’d kissed.

  “Am I doing this right?” she mumbled, running her free hand along his ribs.

  Connor closed his eyes and held perfectly still. “Too right,” he rasped.

  Good. Then she’d do it a little more.

  “I found a problem,” she whispered, tilting her head so that her hair swung away from her eyes.

  “What problem?” His gaze dropped to her lips.

  “What if I don’t want to get free?”

  His nostrils flared, and he lowered his body until his chest rested on hers. Most of the weight was on his arms, making his biceps bulge.

  “That is a problem,” he rumbled. “Especially since I don’t want to let you go.”

  A hundred sparkly firecrackers went off in her soul, stoking the fire within. Her eyelids drooped, and her chest rose in a deep breath — the kind she would take before going for an especially deep dive. And a good thing, too, because she arched up to kiss him at the same time he leaned down to kiss her, and when their lips met…

  She sighed, because Connor kissed the way he touched. Expertly. Firmly. Uncompromising yet gentle, all at the same time.

  Her kiss, on the other hand, was sloppy. Deep. Eager as a puppy yet sensual as a woman who knew just what she wanted, and that she wanted it right now.

  Connor cupped her jaw while he kissed her, telling her that kiss was his. She dropped the knife and threaded both hands through his thick hair. He could take charge of all the kisses he wanted as long as they were that good.

  “Jenna,” he whispered, coming up for air.

  She tilted her head back, offering him her neck, and he groaned, coming down over her again. Suckling and nipping her skin, stroking her sides. Finding her breast and cupping it as he mumbled into his next kiss. A low, throaty moan like a man in terrible need.

  The sand was soft behind her back, the afternoon sky a pure blue overhead, but all she caught were quick glimpses through hazy eyes. She pulled at Connor’s shoulders and wound a leg around his, letting their hips bump until she could feel his body respond.

  Oh, yes. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him. Or maybe need was a better word, because she’d never felt as possessed by sheer, unwavering desire.

  He smelled good — fresh and airy, yet woodsy at the same time. And he tasted even better, from the hint of salt around his lips to the maltier taste deeper down that she could reach if she kissed hard enough. The energy in the air intensified like a brewing storm. Connor was just sliding his hand toward the waistband of her shorts when—

  “Connor? Connor?” someone called.

  They shot apart, caught like a couple of deer in headlights. Well, not quite caught, thank goodness, because Jenna had just enough time to yank her shirt down, and Connor pulled her up a split second before little Joey came around the corner, calling, “Connor. Connor!”

  Jenna wanted to groan, but Connor kept his voice even and warm. “Heya, buddy. What’s up?”

  When Joey stared, Jenna’s stomach sank at what they must look like to him. But all his excitement was focused on the knife.

  “Wow. Can I touch it?”

  Jenna exhaled and handed Connor the training knife, giving it a little flick to hand it over grip-first.

  He grinned, and she did, too. Maybe she had learned something, after all.

  “Yeah, but just touch it.”

  Jenna fanned herself a little, trying to cool down. How had they managed to get so hot and heavy so quickly? Maybe Koa Point was rubbing off on her. The place was a hotbed of sexual activity. She could see it in the glowing faces and the sly, loving looks each couple exchanged.

  But that didn’t explain the inten
se attraction she’d felt toward Connor the second they’d met. Connor had just enough good guy in him to melt a girl’s heart, with just enough bad boy to make her pulse skip.

  Maybe it’s destiny, a little voice whispered in her head.

  Joey’s eyes shone as he touched the training knife Connor held out. “Can you teach me how to fight, too?”

  Jenna’s heart had felt too big to fit in her chest a second earlier, but now it felt all bunched up. She knew that wistful, I want to be grown up feeling all too well.

  “I’m not sure your mom would approve,” Connor murmured. Joey’s face fell, but he pepped up the second Connor added, “But I could teach you some dragon stuff.”

  The kid jumped clear off the ground in his excitement. “You will?”

  “You will not.” Cynthia’s voice sliced through the air as she stalked around the corner to take her son’s hand.

  “But, Mommy,” Joey protested, crestfallen.

  Cynthia glared at Connor, and a whole conversation seemed to zip between them without either uttering a word.

  I will not risk any harm to my son, her blazing eyes said,

  No harm done, and he needs to be a kid, Connor’s eyes said, now glowing red.

  I decide what’s best for my son. Fear showed in the lines of Cynthia’s face — fear and the utter determination to protect her son.

  Give the kid a break, the hard lines of Connor’s face said.

  He’d never looked as mature and weather-beaten as just then, and Jenna touched his arm, trying to help him regain his inner balance. Most of the time, he was as solid as any man she’d known, but every once in a while, she caught him tipping wildly to one side or another. Sometimes toward the side of lust, other times toward anger, and sometimes toward what seemed like a chasm of determination to prove himself to something or someone.

  When Connor glanced her way, Jenna nearly gasped. His gaze was that angry, his soul blazing with the pain of barely healed scars. But a moment later, the red fire became a softer, marigold hue, and she smiled. Really smiled, because it had worked. Her sister could do that with Cruz, too — loosen up the pent-up tension whenever her mate got riled up.

  Jenna froze. Mate?

  She blinked at Connor, suddenly shaky again.