“You okay, Raincloud? Gods, I was so fucking worried you wouldn’t wake up,” he rasps, kissing my jaw next.
He doesn't seem to remember there's someone else's blood on his face, but I'm so happy he's present that I'm not about to remind him. I’ve missed his singed cedar scent and those beautiful golden irises.
When Baelfire sees me drinking in the sight of him no longer feral and hissing, he looks sheepish. His broken nose has completely healed, and his bruises are starting to fade.
“My dragon is a godsdamned wimp. When anyone he considers a lesser being hurts us, and he can’t come out to roast them, it's a huge blow to his pride. Only took a few beatings for me to get him in the back seat. For now,” he adds with a slight grimace.
Beatings, constraints, my fae locked in isolation somewhere…
It’s decided. I’ll relish all the elite legacies’ screams and pleas for mercy as I punish them for harming my quintet.
But for now, I’m ready to get this tape off my face. Leaning toward Baelfire, I lift my chin.
He immediately kisses my cheek, nuzzling my neck with a ragged sigh of relief. More flutters make me flush all over. His obvious excitement to be with me even in a situation likethisis just…admittedly adorable.
I reluctantly pull away. Making sure Baelfire sees my purposeful expression, I tilt my face until he focuses on the tape.
“Oh, shit. Right. Hold still for me, baby.”
It’s quite the process, him nipping and pulling gently at the tape over my mouth. When it starts to peel away, my dragon shifter kisses each part of my face that’s been uncovered.
When the tape finally falls away, I smile against his lips. “Good boy.”
I'm not expecting the rough whimper that escapes him at those words, butoh my gods,it's hotter than I could have imagined.
Baelfire’s warm lips are immediately moving against mine. His tongue drags against the seam of my lips until I open for him, and he growls as our mouths mingle.
He quickly gets more aggressive, tugging lightly on my upper lip before kissing down my neck, nipping it now and then. My head is spinning. When he gets to the mating mark he left on me, he groans.
“Hell yes. Right where it’s always going to fucking be.”
I can’t help the exhilarated gasp that escapes when he roughly bites and then licks the scar to soothe it.
Everett swears under the bag on his head. “I’m missing something I want to see, aren’t I?”
“Quite the little show,” Crypt agrees, grinning.
When Baelfire adjusts to kiss the other side of my neck, I can feel his collar against me.
“Sorry about the collar,” I manage.
He pulls back, raising his brows. “Hang on. You mean, they didn't put it on me? This was you?”
I nod and apologize again, but he groans and lets his head fall back on his shoulders.
“Damn, that makes me so hard.”
Crypt's voice is strained. “Speaking of, they didn't leave any room for viewing pleasure in this fucking sarcophagus. So if you don't mind…”
I realize he's grimacing down at the bronze encasing him, too affected by our little make-out session. Everett hasn't said anything else, but he's tenting.
Oops. My poor voyeurs, minus one.
Finally being in a room with three of my matches coherent and conscious is amazing, but it makes Silas’s absence painfully obvious. My empty stomach clenches painfully at the thought of what they might be doing to my necromancer.
“Don't be sorry, Maven.I’msorry. So fucking sorry,” Baelfire whispers, leaning his forehead against mine. “I don't remember everything from that night my dragon took you, but I—fucking gods, Idroppedyou.”
“I stabbed you.”
