Her expression softens further. “Then don’t. Because you never should.” A pause. “Walk away, I mean.”
She comes up close, rising on her toes to press her lips to mine. This time, there’s no hesitation on my part, just surrender. My arms wrap around her, pulling her against me as the kiss deepens, becomes something deep and desperate and inevitable.
The armory—this place of weapons, tools of violence and protection—suddenly seems fitting. Claiming her here means accepting who and what she is: not just beloved, but warrior. The combination strikes me as perfect: tenderness in the middle of steel and danger.
I lift her onto the weapons bench, sweeping aside gear with one arm, the clatter of metal against cement floor echoing through the cavernous space. I lay her back against the polished wood. My hands strip away her vest, then her shirt, revealing skin I’ve memorized in dreams, golden in the late afternoon light streaming through high windows, soft beneath my fingers.
She tugs my shirt over my head, smoothing her palms over my shoulders and down my chest with a focus that makes my breath catch. Her touch leaves trails of warmth that cling to my skin, as if her inner fire marks me everywhere she touches.
Footsteps approach outside, then pause. A murmured conversation, too low to distinguish words. Then the footsteps retreat. Someone has posted guard, ensuring our privacy. I silently thank whoever showed that foresight.
“There’s no going back from this,” I tell her, needing to know she’s aware of this.
Her eyes meet mine, clear and certain. “Complete the bond, Luke. Make me yours.”
I heave a deep breath that’s heavy with relief, then reach for the waistband of her pants. She lifts her hips to help me as I pull her pants down her thighs, unlacing her boots and then tugging them off as I strip her bare. The cool air of the armory raises goosebumps on her exposed skin, making her shiver beneath my hands.
Standing between her splayed thighs, I drop to my knees and press my mouth to her hipbone. She gasps. I trace lower, dragging my lips across the downy platinum hair at her mound.
“Luke.” Her voice cracks. “You can’t… I’ve never—”
“I know.” I kiss the inside of her thigh, feeling the muscle jump beneath my mouth. “Let me.”
My tongue drags along her slit—slow, deliberate. She jerks like I’ve shocked her, one hand flying to my shoulder, nails biting through skin. I find her clit with the tip of my tongue and work small, lazy circles around it. She tastes musky and sweet, her scent flooding my senses until there’s nothing else.
I suck gently, then harder when her hips lift off the bench. She’s already soaked, already trembling. I slide one finger inside her, feeling the slick heat grip me, then add another. She’s tight—impossibly tight—and I pump slow at first, curling my fingers to find the spot that makes her cry out.
“Luke—” She breaks off, breathless. “I can’t—”
“You can.” I press my tongue flat against her clit, fingers moving faster now. “Let go.”
Her thighs lock around my shoulders, shaking. I feel her tighten, her inner walls clenching around my fingers in rapid, erratic pulses. She comes with a choked sound, her release flooding my hand, coating my lips. I hum in approval, low in my throat, drawing it out, tasting every drop.
“God! Oh God!” Her fingers twist in my hair, holding me against her as she rides it out. I keep moving, slower now, gentler, until her breathing evens and her grip loosens.
When I pull back, I slide up her body until we’re face to face again. She’s wrecked; flushed from her cheeks to her collarbone, eyes unfocused, bottom lip swollen where she’s bitten it raw.
“Good?” I graze my mouth over hers. She freezes for half a second when she realizes what she’s tasting.
“So good.” Her voice is breathless. “So,sogood.”
I brush my thumb across her cheek. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Standing between her thighs, I grasp my cock and guide it to her dripping slit. She wraps her legs around my waist, drawing me closer to her heat.
I enter her slowly, eyes locked on hers, watching as pleasure and connection bloom across her features. The sensation is exquisite; tight heat enveloping me, the scent of her arousal heady, the soft gasp she makes as I fill her completely.
“I love you,” I whisper, the first time saying it in this moment, though my dragon has known it since the beginning.
“I love you too,” she answers, breathy and perfect.
Our rhythm builds, steady and deep, both of us chasing pleasure but also something more profound; connection that transcends the physical. The wooden bench creaks beneath her, the sound blending with our shared breaths and soft moans. Our dragons stir stronger now, scales appearing along our spines, at our temples. The rough texture of them adds another dimension of sensation where our bodies press together.
Energy crackles between us, slate and silver twining in visible currents. The bond forming would be visible even to non-magical eyes, a luminous cord connecting us, pulsing with each matching heartbeat. The air thickens with power, raising the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck.
“Yes… Yes! I’m going to come again!” She sounds surprised. She’d better get used to it.
I find her clit and rub down on it, sending her over the edge and loving the sight of it. As Ember’s pleasure crests, her back arching, my mouth finds her throat, dragon teeth sinking in. The claiming bite—deep, permanent. The taste of copper floods my mouth, sweet and vital. Magic explodes between us as my teeth break skin, the bond snapping into place with an almost audible click.
