The sound of my name fractured the silence, and my heart skipped a beat, though I met Arthur's gaze without flinching.
His presence was violence wrapped in the seduction of pure power. With the dragon building within him, he was a tempest—wild and unrestrained—and against all reason, I found myself attracted to the storm. Whether it was the dragon's hunger or Arthur's familiar vehemence I craved, I didn't know. My thoughts tangled and confused me, while my body betrayed me, restless under his potent gaze.
"You knew," he said as he glared at me, his chest heaving with his attempts to control his rage. His voice was off—not his own. Deeper. "You knew I searched for you."
There was no denying it. "Yes."
Arthur's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the scales that crawled up his neck. "You stood before me." His voice was a growl—deep and rough—not a human voice at all. "Day after day. You trained under my watch, ate at my table, spoke my name with false loyalty dripping from your tongue."
I said nothing. What defense could I offer?
I swallowed hard at the sight of his hands fisting at his sides. He had already dropped Caliburn into the mud, as though it were useless to him. And in comparison to the strength of the beast, his sword was useless.
"I wanted you… so fucking much." The words tore from him, raw and jagged, as he took a step closer to me. "From that first night at this fucking lake, you were all I could think about. Every waking moment consumed by the memory of your skin, your scent, the way you trembled beneath my hands."
His fists remained clenched at his sides, long and sharp talons extending from fingertips that were no longer human.
"I dreamed of you. Night after fucking night." Another step closer until I could scent the ash on his skin, his breath. "I woke hard and aching."
He closed the distance between us, each step deliberate and measured despite the rage radiating from him. My eyes found themselves level with his chest now, where the dragon tattoo writhed and pulsed beneath his skin. The scales appeared to shift and move in the moonlight, and all I wanted to do was reach out and touch them.
I could feel the scorching heat of his body penetrating the space between us. He was hot—scaldingly so—as though fire coursed through his veins instead of blood. The temperature difference between his body and the cold night air was so stark that my own skin began to tingle where we stood closest,my body instinctively wanting to both flee from the burning intensity and lean into its intoxicating warmth.
The scent of ash and smoke clung to him more strongly now, mixed with something wild that made my pulse quicken despite every rational thought screaming at me to run.
"Do you know how many times I spent my cock in my own hands, imagining it was your wet mouth wrapped around my length?"
I squeezed my eyes shut against the vivid, shameful images his words conjured—my mouth around him, taking him deep, tasting the salt and heat of him. I couldn't help the way my body responded, couldn't stop the flood of desire that crashed through me despite everything that stood between us. The thought made my quim clench with need, a treacherous ache spreading through my lower belly.
Gods, what was wrong with me?
When I felt the scorching heat of his breath ghosting against the sensitive shell of my ear, so close that his lips nearly brushed my skin, my heart began to slam violently against my ribs. I opened my eyes. His proximity was overwhelming—his massive frame towering over me, radiating that dangerous heat that made the air itself seem to shimmer between us.
"Every night I imagined slaking myself in your cunt, your heat, your wetness."
The way he was looking at me—like a predator who had finally cornered his prey after weeks of relentless hunting—combined with the raw, desperate hunger in his words sent liquid fire racing through me.
He pulled back. "You caused me more sleepless nights than I care to admit." A bitter laugh escaped him, but there was no humor in it, and a second later, it was gone, replaced with a snarl. "I turned over every stone of this fucking castle, questioned every servant more than once. And when I couldn'tfind you, I even expanded the search beyond Camelot's walls, into the villages, the countryside, every fucking corner of Logres." He paused, panting with his own anger. "I even hosted that ridiculous maiden festival just so I could find you."
The dragon mark pulsed across his chest, brighter now, furious.
"And yet here you were—right under my nose the entire fucking time." His voice dropped to something more dangerous than a shout. "Standing three feet away from me. Calling me 'my lord' with those pretty fucking lips that even now, I want wrapped around my cock."
He lifted his hand and brought his index finger to my mouth, running his talon across my lower lip. I closed my eyes again, breathing in deeply as my quim began to grow even wetter.
"Watching me with those violet eyes hidden behind your illusions."
Heat flooded my face.
"Look at your king when I'm fucking speaking to you."
I immediately opened my eyes to find him glaring down at me. His gaze was consuming—as if he were memorizing every detail of my features now that my illusions had fallen away.
His eyes returned to my lips, and I felt the sharp pressure as he pressed down. The razor edge of his claw bit into my lower lip, and pain bloomed bright and immediate, followed by the warm, metallic taste of my own blood.
When he pulled his finger away, crimson drops clung to the curve of his talon like liquid rubies. He studied the blood with an expression of dark fascination that made my stomach clench with something between fear and need. Raw, unrestrained need.
"You are mortal then," he said as his gaze returned to me. "Able to be killed."
