“I was asleep,” he said. “And she woke me up.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to. I care about you, Rynda, and about your children. But you and I will never be together. We would be miserable.”

She turned away from him and leaned against the island with both hands, as if afraid she would fall. “You’re right,” she said. “You’re like wildfire, Connor. You’d rage and burn me until nothing was left but ashes.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I feel so pathetic right now,” she said. “Don’t pity me. I don’t think I can handle that.”

“I don’t. Check for yourself.”

She shook her head. “All I ever wanted was for someone to love me.”

“Someone does love you. Quietly and desperately. You just haven’t noticed.”

She glanced at him. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s time to stop hiding,” Rogan said. “You’re a Prime. Olivia is gone. Nobody’s judging you. Use your talent.”

She raised her chin. “Maybe I will.”

They stood quietly for a long moment.

“Are you going to marry her?”

“I’m going to ask.”

“When?”

“After she is confirmed as a House.”

“Does she know?”

“No.”

“And if she says no?”

His voice was controlled and casual. “Then it’s a no.”

“This isn’t like you. You go after what you want, knocking obstacles and people out of the way.”

“That’s not true. Occasionally I dodge.”

“You know what I mean.” She leaned back. “Have you told her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she will be asked at the trials about alliances and associations with current Houses.”

“You don’t want her to be in your shadow.”

He nodded.

“That’s very noble, but she should have time to look over the contract. She doesn’t have the experience, and once she is declared a House, she’ll be bombarded with offers. It’s easy to become overwhelmed.”

“There won’t be a contract.”

Rynda frowned at him. “Are you intending to enter this marriage without a prenup?”

“Yes.”

“Have you lost your mind? You’ve known her less than three months.”

“Four.”

“You’re worth over a billion. That’s your family’s wealth. What if she divorces you after a month? Are you going to give her half of your money?”

He didn’t answer.

“Have you even run a genetic compatibility match?”

Silence.

“Connor, this is crazy. You’re acting like you’re a normal person. You’re not. You have to protect the interests of your House.”

“You followed all the rules and jumped through all the right hoops. How did it work out for you?”

She drew back. “That’s a hit below the belt.”

“She’ll have me or she won’t, Rynda. I’m not going to force her. I won’t shackle her into a contract that will penalize her if she attempts to leave me. I don’t care if our children will be perfect at conception according to a gene chart. This is how it is.”

I felt the faintest whisper of magic from Rynda.

“Oh, Connor,” she said softly. “I hope you’re right. I hope she doesn’t hurt you and you don’t hurt her.”

She reached out, touched his cheek gently, and walked away.

He stood at the island for a while, drinking what had to be cold coffee by now. He rinsed the mug, set it on the counter, came over, and crouched by me.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I said.

“You’re awake.”

“Have I ever told you that you have keen powers of observation?”

He smiled. “No.”

“You do. You should be a detective.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Everything that mattered.”

He nodded, his face unreadable. “It is what it is. All cards are on the table.”

“Not quite.” I sat up.

“Oh?”

“The real Rogan hasn’t asked me.”

He frowned.

“I want the dragon to ask me.”

“Be careful,” he warned.

“I know what the Head of House Rogan wants. I heard all of his noble warnings about the future of House Baylor. I saw him hold himself in check. I want to know what you want, Connor. What do you want of me? Ask me.”

Something changed in his eyes. Before I could figure it out, he yanked me off the couch as if I weighed nothing, and carried me off up the stairs. Okay then.

The door flew open in front of him and slammed shut behind us all on its own. He tossed me on the bed. His face was savage, his blue eyes hungry. I shivered.

Magic brushed me, shredding my clothes. He grabbed a handful of fabric that used to be my T-shirt and jeans and tossed them aside. My bra followed. My panties fell apart. Excitement dashed through me, quick and electric, mixed with alarm and anticipation. An insistent low heat began to pool between my legs. My body knew what was coming and every cell in me wanted it.

He stripped naked. Hard muscle corded his frame under golden skin. He was big and erect, and when I met his eyes, he nearly set me on fire. He pinned me to the bed, his huge body caging me. His hand slid under my head. He grabbed a handful of hair. Breath caught in my throat.

His mouth closed on mine. There was nothing gentle or beguiling about that kiss. He kissed me like I belonged to him. His tongue invaded my mouth, and I tasted him, the echoes of coffee and the deep male scent that said Connor to me. It made me shiver. He kissed me like he could do anything to me and I wanted to let him. I would beg him to do it.

He broke the kiss. His eyes were dark and borderline feral. The heat between my legs turned liquid. I was suddenly in a terrible hurry.

“Look at me.” His voice was harsh.

I looked at him.

“You wanted to see me? Here I am.”

He seemed barely human, all raw male power, intense sexual need, and dark magic. It boiled all around him. The muscles on his arms were rock-hard. If he squeezed me, he could crush me. He never would, but knowing he could, watching all that power arrested in a moment, waiting to be devoted to making love to me, was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.

I tried to arch my back to press against him and couldn’t. He held me in place.

“Are you scared?” the dragon asked.

“No.”

“You should be.”

I smiled and let my own magic out.

His eyes shone.

He drew his thumb across my lips. The first intoxicating drop of his magic fell in the hollow between my breasts, hot, molten, velvet. Every nerve in me hummed in response. I was an addict who had smelled her favorite drug. I needed him inside me.

He slid his hand under my ass, squeezing it, feeling it, and dragged me closer, shifting my hips where he wanted me. The blunt head of his shaft pressed against me.

The magic split into two currents, winding around my breasts, and slid up each peak, warming my skin. My nipples were suddenly cold and erect, and then the magical heat crested over them. The jolt of pleasure rocked me, just as he tilted his head and sealed his lips on mine. I gasped into his mouth. He kissed me as the magic twisted around my nipples, sending tiny sparks of bliss through me, and then the stream moved lower. He kissed me while it flowed over my stomach, over my lap, into the crease between my legs. It licked my clit with its tongue, no longer merely hot and velvet, but slightly rough. My whole body contracted in response. It was too much. Waiting was too hard. I fought against him, bucking with everything I had and not moving an inch.

He let me take a breath. The harsh need in his eyes had turned to an all-consuming hunger.

“Why should I be scared?” I asked.

The magic squeezed and licked my clit, slipping in and out of me. It was an exquisite torture. He dipped his head and sucked on my left nipple. I almost came.