Fury of Fate: A Dragonfury Short Story by Coreene Callahan Page A
Authors: Coreene Callahan
Ads: Link
focused on the ordinary entrance between the last two. Stumbling beneath the overhang, he reached for the knob. His hand slipped off cold steel. With a curse, he tried again and caught metal. A sharp twist. A quick shove, and the wooden panel opened wide. Ivar staggered inside, swung the door closed behind him, and collapsed on the concrete floor. Teeth chattering, he rolled belly-up, and swallowing the bad taste in his mouth, let his eyes drift shut, and—
Thank God. He was safe and ...all right, not quite undamaged. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Alive, after all, was better than dead, so...yeah. Lesson learned. No more sex with the gorgeous blonde down the street. Memory of him intact or not, Sasha was now off limits. For all time. No way would he make the same mistake twice. Or give her another opportunity to link in and drain him dry.
***
Coming awake in a flurry of movement, Sasha popped upright on the sofa. Afghan slung over her shoulders, she bounced on the edge of the seat cushion, and flipping the hair out of her eyes, looked around. Sunlight streamed through the living room window, blinding her a moment before she surged to her feet. Her bare soles landed with a thump on the area rug. The solid sound echoed in the quiet. Stretching her arms overhead, Sasha hummed. Man, she felt amazing this morning. Supercharged. Positively electric as though she’d been plugged in overnight.
The strange buzz pricked the nape of her neck, then spread, washing over the tops of her shoulders. Her skin came alive in a wash of goose bumps. Shaking off the super-willy, she tossed aside the crocheted throw, stepped around the coffee table and—
Stubbed her toe on something.
Sasha glanced down, then blinked. A steel-toed boot, big, black as lethal looking as the man who owed it. Following the trail of clothing, she took in the jeans slung over the back of the armchair. Her gaze settled on the leather jacket beneath the denim, then ping-ponged to the heap of white cotton crumpled on the floor next to it. Her mouth tipped up at the corners. Ivar. He was still here...somewhere. She scanned the kitchen, taking in the bank of cabinets beyond the breakfast bar. Nope. Not there. Stepping toward the chair, she scooped his T-shirt off the hardwood and pressed it to her nose. His scent enveloped her, making her sigh and feel stupid at the same time.
Breathing him in was such a girly thing to do, but she couldn’t help herself.
She liked the way he smelled—fresh and clean, all male with more than his fair share o f the exotic. She hummed again. Yum. Oh, so good. Calvin Klein cologne had nothing on him. Sasha huffed. Another idiotic thought, but after the night he’d given her—and all the pleasure—she was entitled to a little sappiness. A truckload of satisfaction too. Maybe even another round, considering he’d stuck around ’til morning.
Jazzed by the possibility, Sasha tugged his shirt over her head. Soft cotton brushed the tops of her thighs as she made an abrupt turn and headed for the double-wide hallway connected to the living room. Her bedroom lay beyond, along with a pint-sized bathroom that boasted a deep claw-foot tub, fancy candles and expensive bath salts. A lover’s playground. Not that she’d ever considered it that way before. But with Ivar in the mix, the space took on new dimension. Biting the inside of her lip, Sasha stifled a moan. Oh mercy, the possibilities. She could have so much fun with him, hot water and...heaven help her...scented oil.
Anticipation cu rled in the pit of her stomach.
Her heart picked up a beat, thumping hard as she stopped in the corridor outside the bathroom. The door stood ajar, the edge an inch away from the jamb. Sasha raised her hand, then hesitated, a little unsure. Should she knock or wait? Despite the intimacy they’d shared, she didn’t know. Wasn’t familiar enough with the male psyche to determine whether disturbing him constituted a breech in one night stand
Thank God. He was safe and ...all right, not quite undamaged. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Alive, after all, was better than dead, so...yeah. Lesson learned. No more sex with the gorgeous blonde down the street. Memory of him intact or not, Sasha was now off limits. For all time. No way would he make the same mistake twice. Or give her another opportunity to link in and drain him dry.
***
Coming awake in a flurry of movement, Sasha popped upright on the sofa. Afghan slung over her shoulders, she bounced on the edge of the seat cushion, and flipping the hair out of her eyes, looked around. Sunlight streamed through the living room window, blinding her a moment before she surged to her feet. Her bare soles landed with a thump on the area rug. The solid sound echoed in the quiet. Stretching her arms overhead, Sasha hummed. Man, she felt amazing this morning. Supercharged. Positively electric as though she’d been plugged in overnight.
The strange buzz pricked the nape of her neck, then spread, washing over the tops of her shoulders. Her skin came alive in a wash of goose bumps. Shaking off the super-willy, she tossed aside the crocheted throw, stepped around the coffee table and—
Stubbed her toe on something.
Sasha glanced down, then blinked. A steel-toed boot, big, black as lethal looking as the man who owed it. Following the trail of clothing, she took in the jeans slung over the back of the armchair. Her gaze settled on the leather jacket beneath the denim, then ping-ponged to the heap of white cotton crumpled on the floor next to it. Her mouth tipped up at the corners. Ivar. He was still here...somewhere. She scanned the kitchen, taking in the bank of cabinets beyond the breakfast bar. Nope. Not there. Stepping toward the chair, she scooped his T-shirt off the hardwood and pressed it to her nose. His scent enveloped her, making her sigh and feel stupid at the same time.
Breathing him in was such a girly thing to do, but she couldn’t help herself.
She liked the way he smelled—fresh and clean, all male with more than his fair share o f the exotic. She hummed again. Yum. Oh, so good. Calvin Klein cologne had nothing on him. Sasha huffed. Another idiotic thought, but after the night he’d given her—and all the pleasure—she was entitled to a little sappiness. A truckload of satisfaction too. Maybe even another round, considering he’d stuck around ’til morning.
Jazzed by the possibility, Sasha tugged his shirt over her head. Soft cotton brushed the tops of her thighs as she made an abrupt turn and headed for the double-wide hallway connected to the living room. Her bedroom lay beyond, along with a pint-sized bathroom that boasted a deep claw-foot tub, fancy candles and expensive bath salts. A lover’s playground. Not that she’d ever considered it that way before. But with Ivar in the mix, the space took on new dimension. Biting the inside of her lip, Sasha stifled a moan. Oh mercy, the possibilities. She could have so much fun with him, hot water and...heaven help her...scented oil.
Anticipation cu rled in the pit of her stomach.
Her heart picked up a beat, thumping hard as she stopped in the corridor outside the bathroom. The door stood ajar, the edge an inch away from the jamb. Sasha raised her hand, then hesitated, a little unsure. Should she knock or wait? Despite the intimacy they’d shared, she didn’t know. Wasn’t familiar enough with the male psyche to determine whether disturbing him constituted a breech in one night stand
Similar Books
