Derek studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Would you like a drink of water?”
Jilly nodded. “Please. I feel like I’ve been eating sandpaper. How did I get here?”
Without answering, Derek straightened to his feet and walked out of the lamp’s muted glow.
The sound of glass chinking wafted out of the darkness, followed by running water. “Derek?” She peered after him, trying to make out the shapes beyond the light of the lamp. “Where are we? What happened?” She paused. Something he’d said earlier itched at her, but she couldn’t remember.
“Man, I feel funky,” she muttered, slumping back in her seat and smoothing her palms over her thighs.
Fabric. Silk. Skirt. Where…
Stilling her hands, she studied the silken emerald-green fabric draped over her legs. It wasn’t familiar. She didn’t wear skirts, preferring jeans. Her curves didn’t like skirts. Or more accurately, she didn’t think skirts liked her curves. Although Derek always said he thought she should wear them more—
Ari.
The name whispered through her head.
Jilly frowned. Ari? Why did the name sound—
A memory of the man, of Ari, slammed into her. And then another, and another, his name growing louder in her head with each one.
Ari. The Harley hunk with the dragon tattoo. The man who’d stormed into her home and kissed her and gone down on her and told her she was his Fire Mate and he was a—
“Dragon.” The word fell from her in a raspy whisper.
She sat up, spine snapped stiff, breath ragged.
Oh God, she remembered. She remembered it all. The man, the sex, the heat, Derek. The purple cloud of mist.
Derek shouting for the dragon to get away from her, that she was his.
Ari snarling in return, asking the druid what the fuck he was doing there.
“Dragon,” she whispered, heart racing. “Druid. What the fuck…?”
Pushing herself to her feet, she rubbed her hands on her thighs again. She’d been naked. Derek had dragged her from her apartment naked, covered her in his jacket and bundled her into a cab. And brought her here—wherever here was—and dressed her.
She looked down at herself. It wasn’t an emerald-green skirt covering her, but a dress. A soft, silken shift that clung to her hips and breasts and belly and floated around her thighs. A dress with a deep neckline that revealed half her boobs. A dress covering a body clearly not wearing underwear. Oh God, she could see her nipples pushing at the fabric. She could see her—
Stop it. You’re freaking out about nipples? Derek drugged you. Abducted you. Took you away from Ari and—
“Ari,” she burst out, an undeniable sexual hunger igniting in her core. “Oh God, Ari.”
She couldn’t fathom why she’d called out to the stranger. Nor did she understand how she knew his name. None of what had happened to her in the last God knows how many hours made any sense. She just…just…ached for him. Needed him.
Ari, she cried in her mind. I need—
Derek arrived back in the room, water-filled glass in his hand. He studied her, expression once again unreadable. The golden light reflected in his eyes. “Did you let the dragon fuck you, Jilly?”
Jilly blinked at his question. Calm control radiated from him.
She balled her fists. Her stomach roiled. She’d never been more angry. Or more scared. “Did I what?”
He walked closer to where she stood. Derek. Her best friend. The person who made her laugh the most. Who’d sat beside her during her first year at university, when she’d been alone and lonely, and started talking to her about Game of Thrones as if he’d known her forever.
Derek.
Druid.
That’s what Ari had called him. A druid. And Derek had called Ari dragon.
“Derek,” she whispered, watching him stop on the other side of the low coffee table positioned in front of her. “What the hell is going on?”
“Drink this.” He held the glass out to her. “You’ll feel better.”
Taking it, she frowned. “You think water is going to help?”
He had the audacity to shrug, a relaxed grin playing with his lips. “You did say you were thirsty.”
With a huff, she took a sip—and coughed as a strong acidic bitterness filled her mouth.
Derek reached over the coffee table and plucked the glass from her hand.
“What was that?” she asked, swiping at her lips with the back of her hand.
“Vodka.”
Jilly coughed again. “Serious? Where the hell do you buy your booze from, Derek?”
He placed the glass on the table, his gaze locked with hers. “The dragon, Jilly. Arriman Drake. Did you have sex with him?”
She threw up her hands. “What fucking business is it of yours if I did? And what the hell do you mean, dragon? You’re kidding, right?”
“Tell me, Jilly.”
“I’m not telling you anything until you tell me what the hell I’m doing here.”
Derek lowered himself onto the plastic chair. “You’re here so I can keep you safe.”
Jilly narrowed her eyes. Safe. That was what he’d said earlier that had itched at her brain. Keeping her safe. From who? Ari?
“Who is Arriman Drake?” she asked, refusing to sit. “Is that who you’re keeping me safe from?”
Derek’s jaw bunched. “Did you have sex with him?”
She shook her head. “I told you I’m not telling you until I know what’s going on. Why did he call you druid?”
He studied her, silent for a heartbeat, and then let out a slow breath and sank back into the chair. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you at uni, Jilly. Did you know that? You called to me. I felt the pull of your spirit on mine.”
Jilly couldn’t stop her dubious snort. “My spirit? Really? I didn’t realize you were so New-Agey, Derek.”
He smiled. “More like ancient-agey. The blood of the ancient Celtic druids runs through my veins. And yours is just as ancient. And as powerful.”
She blinked. “Are
