his needs. There was no time to dally tonight. Stig quickly undressed. He walked over to the far wall and grabbed the titanium chains. They rattled in his trembling hands as he secured them around his ankles and wrists. The time-activated lock beeped and began the countdown to sunrise and safety.
Secure in his bonds, Stig relaxed his shoulders and welcomed the change. Scaly green patches transformed his tanned skin. The bones of his face elongated into a kind of snout. His short nails lengthened and sharpened into acid-green talons. Stig groaned in pain as his back snapped and realigned itself into a curved shape. With a rending of skin and a scream from his throat, pterodactyl-like wings sprouted from his back, the black reptilian membrane wet and stretched thin between the joints.
And just like that, his inner dragon was free. The primal urges of his beast suppressed Stig’s humanity. For now, he could only think with the primitive parts of his brain. Hunt. Food. Sex. Sleep. Those were his strongest desires.
He jerked at his bonds, desperate for freedom and yearning for a taste of the young woman whose tantalizing smell still teased him despite the depths he’d descended. His mouth watered and his erection twitched at the vision of parting her thighs and lapping at her honeyed sex. He could just imagine the sensation of tight, wet heat that would envelope his cock if he thrust deep inside her.
Burning up with lust, Stig shuddered and pressed back against the cool stone. He didn’t dare look at the blinking hours and seconds on the locks. Thankful for the strength of his chains, he closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to subjugate his dragon’s needs.
This was going to be one very long night indeed.
Cora dragged the last of her suitcases into the guest bedroom. It was small and sparsely furnished. She’d expected nothing less from Stig. He wasn’t the warm and cozy type. Actually, Cora was pleasantly surprised not to find a military-style rack complete with itchy wool blanket and paper-thin sheets. The full-sized bed offered a comfy pillow-top mattress and nice fluffy white comforter. Pale blue walls added a soothing effect she desperately needed.
Her tummy clenched at the thought of having to tell Stig about the mess she’d created. Heat flooded her cheeks. She could imagine the disapproving expression he’d wear. She’d often seen a similar look on Hector’s face. Neither man had been programmed to take risks or take the plunge into the unknown in pursuit of a dream. Cora, on the other hand, thrived on uncertainty. She liked taking chances. Sometimes they turned out fine and sometimes…well…they didn’t.
Hunger pangs twisted her belly. When had she last eaten? Oh right. That gross drive-through burger joint about five hours ago.
Cora left her room and carefully tiptoed past the door she assumed led to Stig’s room. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb him. For a second there, she’d thought he was really going to refuse her entrance to his house. Her gut told her there was something more than a headache causing his weird behavior.
Her first instinct? That he had a lover in the house. The very thought of another woman, naked and sated in Stig’s bed, had soured her stomach. From the first time she’d spied Stig Wyvern six years earlier, she’d been smitten with her older brother’s friend. A college freshman, she’d been smart enough to realize a war-hardened marine like Stig wouldn’t be interested in her. It hadn’t been easy to ignore her raging crush but she’d done it. The last thing she’d wanted to do was embarrass herself or him or Hector. Even though she’d managed to suppress her strong feelings toward Stig, there was no denying the spark of jealousy that had burned her at the thought of him with another woman in his secluded cabin. Realizing her first instinct was wrong had been quite a relief.
So what the hell was his problem? Clearly he wasn’t comfortable with her in the house. Hopefully it really was a headache and not something else. If Stig put her out, she’d be on the streets by the end of the week. The cash in her wallet was running low and there was no one else she trusted to keep her safe.
Down in the kitchen, Cora took a few moments to investigate the cabinets and fridge contents. The pantry shelves were well stocked and her mind raced with possibilities for the morning. Her grandmother had always preached the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. If there was one thing Stig had always loved, it was Cora’s baking and cooking skills. Considering she desperately needed his help, she’d bake, saute, fricassee, braise, and roast every recipe in her mental cookbook.
But for tonight a sandwich would suffice. Cora made quick work of assembling her dinner, grabbed a chilled can of fizzy soda from the fridge, and sat at the sturdy wooden table. Her fingertips brushed over the smooth grained tabletop. She marveled at the exquisite craftsmanship.
Stig’s skill as a woodworker was well known. When he’d retired from the Marine Corps, he’d turned his hobby into a thriving business. Cora had seen the adjacent workshop as she’d pulled into the gravel driveway. From what she understood, almost all of his business came from online orders. It seemed client interaction was low on his list of priorities.
Apparently Stig was quite content with his loner status. That was something she’d never understood about him. He’d enjoyed spending a day or two with them in San Antonio whenever Hector invited him down but he always seemed so restless and uneasy, as if he couldn’t wait to escape. He thrived on the solitude of his woodsy fortress. The city seemed to sap him of his vitality.
Cora mused on his oddness as she cleaned up her dishes and swept away the crumbs on the counter and table. There was something about Stig that wasn’t quite right. She used to think it was the effect of all those tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, maybe some post-traumatic stress disorder, but the more she was around him, the less she thought that was the answer.
Clearly he had some lingering issues from his time at war. Hector had been the same way. The nightmares of those days in the violence-fueled desert had driven her brother toward the alcohol and drugs that had eventually led to his demise. Stig, on the other hand, seemed able to master the horrors of war in a way Hector simply never could.
Cora often thought she glimpsed the tiniest bit of guilt reflected in Stig’s eyes whenever they spoke of her brother. No matter how many times she assured Stig he hadn’t failed Hector, she could tell he didn’t believe it. Stig had taken Hector’s car accident incredibly hard. As far as Cora could tell, Hector had been Stig’s only real friend, so the loss must have been as unbearable for him as it had been for her.
But they had each other to lean on for support.
There had been a time in those initial weeks following Hector’s death when Cora had thought maybe, just maybe, Stig felt more for her than friendship, that they weren’t only united in grief but in other, more intimate ways. She’d quickly realized her hopes in that area would never come to fruition. Perhaps it was the age difference or the sibling connection but Stig never gave her any indication that he was interested in anything beyond friendship.
And it killed her.
There was no denying her intense attraction to him. Who wouldn’t have the hots for such a deliciously sexy former marine? With that square jaw and that heart-melting grin, Stig set her on fire every time he was near. The thought of being embraced by those thick, muscular arms or having those broad shoulders rippling as he thrust into her welcoming body was almost too much. Her knees weakened at the mere thought of Stig kissing her neck or nibbling her lower lip.
As much as it embarrassed her, Cora still nurtured a secret hope Stig would one day see her not just as his best friend’s sister but as the sexually confident young woman she’d become. Maybe this would be the visit that changed things between them? She’d never been around Stig on his home turf. Whether or not that improved her odds of success, she couldn’t say, but it was worth a try.
Cora flicked off the light and started to leave the kitchen. The strangest noise, a mix between a growl and a moan, stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned back to the kitchen and fixed her gaze on the basement door. The sound had most definitely come from beneath the house.
What kind of animal made a noise like that? Not a raccoon or skunk, owl or bat. Were there coyotes and wolves in the woods? Yes, probably, but how would they get into the basement? Maybe there was outside access to the cellar? A door or vent of some kind?
Her chest constricted with nervousness. She slowly crossed the kitchen and pressed her ear to the door. There was nothing to be heard but her shaky breaths. Whatever she’d heard was quiet now.
A moment later another lonesome howl penetrated the door. Cora’s breath caught in her throat. The fine hairs along her nape stood on edge. So close to the basement entrance, she heard the sound more clearly, a mix
