Falling Dragons (#3 Moon Shadows) by Angela Castle Page A

her arse cheek jolted Opie awake. She bolted upright. “What the hell?!” Simon’s deep laugh rumbled in the room. She blinked to realise where she was, and with whom. The memory of the previous day’s events flooded back into her brain.
    “Let me guess, not a morning person?”
    She growled at his half grin before letting her eyes slide down the wonderful contours of his naked body, noting all the scars she’d felt as she’d touched him the evening before. She licked her lips as her gaze fell on his proud member, which awakened before her eyes, growing longer and stronger.
    “Cut it out, Opie, it’s hard enough for him to resist you without you looking at him like that.”
    “But he’s so pretty and he feels so wonderful.” She tumbled forward, set on stalking her prey, but he backed up away from the bed.
    “Later. Come on, sleepy, I need to shower, and seeing as we can’t be more than a few feet apart at any given time, that means you’re showering with me.” He turned and stalked away. As she watched him walk away, Opie saw the oddest thing. There was a leaf-shaped pattern on his back just below his right shoulder. In the centre of the shape was an old and ugly looking scar. She followed, staring at it.
    “What is this on your back?”
    “Nothing, forget about it. I’ve been in many battles, and as you can see I have a few scars to show for it.”
    “It looks like a leaf. Is it a weird Norse tattoo?”
    “Opie.” His angry growl made her blink. He’d turned, his eyes hard, like when he’d faced the Gullu demon in the alley. Here stood the demon hunter, the warrior, not the passionate, tender lover from before. Clearly it is a touchy subject for him. She let it drop for now.
    She bounced after him, taking the time to glance around his very castle-looking bedchamber.
    “You’re an old Norseman aren’t you? A raiding Viking.”
    “Never once was I involved in any raids, thank you.”
    “Well, la dee da! Did you wear the helmets with the horns?”
    Simon snorted. “Myth, sweetheart. Real Vikings never had foolish horns on their headwear. It was made up by the story tellers of the modern age to romanticize a brutal age. Plus, I was a king. I had my men do any raiding for me.” He winked.
    “Somehow I doubt you would stay sitting on a cold stone throne and not be a part of the action. Anyway, I want to see you in a horned Viking helmet. I’m into heavy metal.” Opie swept her one arm around the other holding her air guitar as she played, humming the guitar riff from the Deep Purple song, Smoke On The Water . “You’ve got a tight butt, how much do you work out?”
    She shrieked as he lifted her suddenly, slapping her naked arse. “Don’t you ever shut up?”
    “Hey, my arse is not your personal drum. If you want me quiet, make me!”
    Knobs turned. Her scream echoed off the bathroom walls as he’d turned on the cold water full blast.
    “You son of a dragon dung pile!”
    “It’s just water, sweetheart.”
    “You may be used to arctic blasts, but I’m not! Stop trying to turn me into an icy pole! I. Hate. The. Cold!” Her teeth chattered as she glared at him. He turned another knob and warmth seeped into the water. She sighed with relief as her shaking slowly faded. “That was not nice. Dragons and cold don’t mix well together. They left me cold in that cage just to torment me.”
    “Sorry, sweetheart.” He gathered her in his arms in a tender embrace as the warmer water rained down on them both. “We’ll get them, I promise. Until then, I guess I’ll have to think of another way to silence this pretty mouth.” He tipped up her head and lowered his.
    The simple kiss quickly grew heavy, passionate. He turned her, pushing her back up against the shower wall, devouring her mouth as if he’d been starving for years. Opie melted against him, moaning into his mouth as she opened for his passionate exploration. Her wits scattered to the four winds of time
    He pulled back, and she