As he glides away, I instinctively step forward, my balance teetering at the sudden absence of his warmth. The air feels frigid without the heat radiating from his powerful form; a stark contrast to the fire ignited by his kiss. My lips still tingle from the contact. A lingering spark that leaves me both breathless and yearning.
A hollow ache settles in my chest, an unfulfilled desire that vibrates through me like a live wire. I’m rattled, but not in a way that frightens me; it’s exhilarating, a rush of something wild and untamed awakening within. Each heartbeat echoes with the memory of his touch, the taste of him lingering like a forbidden fruit on my tongue, and I crave more.
He glides toward his sleeping nest, a lavish array of furs and silks that whisper of royal comfort. With deft hands, he retrieves a few items, the fabric shimmering in the heartstone's glow, and slithers to a lounger.
"You will be more comfortable in my nest than on a lounger," he says, gesturing to the nest. "It is formed to my shape, but I believe it will suffice for tonight."
I stare at him, caught off guard by the gesture. "I didn't mean to take your bed. I can sleep anywhere, really. Just knowing you’re in the room is enough."
A lopsided smile tugs at his lips, softening the hard lines of his face, turning ferocity into something disarming in its unexpectedness, and far too compelling. “I have slept on stone in battle camps for weeks at a time, Leira. One night on a lounger will not break me.”
My eyes betray me, tracing the broad planes of his chest, the ridges of muscle rolling beneath his scales, the breadth of his shoulders, before I can catch myself. “I’d say little could break you.” I blush and hurry away, mortified by my brazen comment.
I can feel Varok’s gaze on me, heavy and tangible, as I walk to his nest. The heat from his kiss still lingers on my lips, a phantom burn that makes my heart flutter. When I slip off my robe, cool air rushes over my skin, pebbling it with gooseflesh beneath the thin fabric of my nightgown. I’m prey frozen in a predator's sights. Exposed, vulnerable, waiting. Through our bond pulses his hunger, primal and barely leashed, yet he turns away, his massive form curling up on the lounger against the far wall.
The nest still carries his warmth when I sink into it, the soft weave molding to my form. His scent clings to the silken threads, all sun-warmed stone and something spiced, darkly alive. It envelopes me, heady and intimate. The depression cradles my body differently than the one in my own chamber, this one shaped by use, by him. I curl on my side, facing the heartstone’s glow, acutely aware of every sound as he settles onto the lounger, the air between us thick enough to wade through.
"Comfortable?" he asks. His voice low, resonant, as he places his hand on the stone. The keh’shali dims beneath his touch, casting the chamber in a more intimate glow.
"Yes," I whisper, surprised by the truth of it. "Thank you for this. I know it's not... conventional."
"Little about our blood bond has been conventional," he replies, a hint of dry humor coloring his tone. "Sleep now. A new day comes sooner than you think in the palace."
I close my eyes, expecting sleep to elude me despite my exhaustion, but the warmth of the nest combined with Varok's steady presence works a magic all its own. The terror that gripped me in my assigned chamber recedes, replaced by the sense of safety I felt in the Flame room. My thoughts drift, replaying fragments of the day: the crown being placed on Varok's head, Eira speaking the prophecy, the glowing fruit at the feast…
Chapter Fourteen
LEIRA
Iwake with a gasp, my body aflame. Not to the deadly fire of the bombing I was dreaming of but something deeper, more primal. Heat licks through my core, pooling between my thighs with an intensity that steals my breath. I'm moving before I'm fully conscious, undulating against something solid above me, seeking friction to ease the ache that pulses through me.
"Wake up, Leira." Varok's voice cuts through my haze.
My eyes flutter open to find him poised above me, his powerful arms caging me within his nest. His fiery hair falls around us like a curtain of flames, copper-red strands brushing against my cheeks. The molten depths of his eyes hold mine, concern warring with something darker, hungrier.
"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice rough at the edges. “You were thrashing in your sleep.”
I can't answer. My body feels like it's been set ablaze from within, every nerve ending screaming for his touch. Emberyn burns hot against my throat, matching the liquid fire pooling between my thighs. The thin nightgown clings to my skin, dampened by the heat radiating between us.
"I—" Words fail me. Instead I follow the urge that pulses through me like a second heartbeat. My hand slides up his arm, over his shoulder, fingers threading through the silken strands at the nape of his neck. I pull him down, closing the distance between us.
Our lips meet and the world ignites.
I've never done anything like this before, never been so bold, but instinct guides me. I lick my way into his mouth, tasting him, all dark and forbidden; a spice that intoxicates, something humans were never meant to consume. He groans, the sound vibrating through me, and suddenly he's no longer holding back. His tongue meets mine, demanding and thorough, fangs grazing my bottom lip with exquisite care.
His massive body shifts above me, and I feel it, that hard, unmistakable bulge pressing against my thigh. I spread my legs and lift my pelvis, grinding against it, seeking relief from the ache building inside me. The contact sends sparks shooting up my spine.
Varok hisses, breaking the kiss. His scales ripple with barely controlled tension, amber fire dancing beneath obsidian. "Careful what you seek, Ashira," he warns, voice like gravel. "I cannot withhold myself for you much longer."
"Are we—" I hesitate, curiosity warring with desire. "Are we compatible? Physically, I mean."
His laugh is dark and rich. "I do not know," he admits, tracing the curve of my cheek with one claw. "I have never mated with a human before."
I swallow hard, suddenly aware of my inexperience. "I've never...with anyone."
His pupils dilate at my confession, vertical slits expanding until his eyes are nearly black with hunger. Through our bond comes a surge of possessive heat that makes me gasp. "Virgin," he murmurs, the word reverent and predatory all at once.
His hand glides down my body, tracing the curve of my waist, the flare of my hip. I part my thighs without hesitation; my mind screaming that these are the hands of a predator, claws that could tear flesh from bone, yet my body surrenders, inviting in the very monster I was raised to fear with a hunger that should shame me. His palm cups my heat through my nightgown, and I buck against the pressure, desperate for more.
