The thought of another man inside her burned through me even now, standing in the cold night air with the taste of her still on my lips. That I should care so deeply about something so base, so utterly beneath the dignity of a king, only served to fuel my self-loathing. What manner of ruler was I that I could be reduced to jealousy over a woman's past lovers? What manner of man was I that the thought of another's hands on her skin could tear me apart such that it was?
It was the unknowing that was now driving me to madness, eating at my composure like acid through armor. Part of me—the king who had crushed rebellions and bent entire kingdoms to his will—wanted to march into the depths of the dungeon and force the truth from her trembling lips. I would use every tool at my disposal: pain, magic, the slow erosion of hope that came with isolation in those cold stone cells.
She is our mate,the dragon insisted.
"No, she is not! She's a fucking liar and a spy—Merlin's fucking daughter! And she will die for her crimes."
We will punish her. And she will kneel for us. Then we will fill her with our seed. Our child.
No.
I would break her piece by piece until she confessed every secret, every lie, every moment of deception she'd woven around me like a spider's web.
Yet, there was another part of me that wanted to simply forget. To watch her execution from my throne with cold, regal indifference. I would erase her from the chronicles of Camelot as if she had never existed, never walked these halls, never pulled my sword from its ancient stone. Never touched me with hands that had somehow learned to undo a king's carefully constructed walls. This part of me wanted nothing but her death.
YOU WILL NOT DESTROY HER!
"I can and I fucking will."
I would forget her. Forget the way she moved like liquid steel in combat, forget the feel of her skin. Forget the smell of her hair. The taste of her on my fingertips. The feel of her cunt wrapped around my fingers. I would scrub her from my history as thoroughly as I'd purged the kingdom of rebellious magic users until even the memory of her became nothing more than a half-remembered nightmare.
The trouble was, I knew with sickening certainty that neither path would bring me peace.
And gods help me, that pride in her eyes—that unshakable fire—had undone me more than any spell could have. It had enraged me. Inflamed me.Arousedme beyond reason. And worse—worse—Istillwanted her.
Even now. Even after everything. I still fucking wanted her.
Not just her body, but the woman beneath it. The woman who had bested every trial. The woman who had pulled the sword from the stone.
The woman I could not afford to want.
Truth enough was how my cock was already straining against my braies at just the thought of her.
Yes! Go to her. Claim her. Fuck her. She is ours.
Gods, the dragon was fucking relentless. If I could have carved it out of my mind, my soul, I would have in a heartbeat.
Yet, the dragon's emotions echoed my own. In fact, if she were standing before me now, I would bend her over and thrust inside that tight cunt, knowing how wet she would be for me. And that was no lie. Shehadwanted me—that much had been obvious. Not only had she admitted as much, but her cunt had been dripping with her own need by the time I'd thrust my fingers inside her.
It wouldn't even matter that someone had spoiled her before I'd had my chance. My want was deep. My need even deeper. As it was, I didn't know how I hadn't taken her when I'd had the chance. Perhaps it was the shock of finding out someone had gotten to her before I had. That jealousy had been utterly consuming, not just my own but the dragon's. It had torn through me, leaving nothing but fury in its wake. The mere thought that another man had touched her—had claimed what should have been mine—sent waves of murderous rage coursing through me. They were still coursing through me.
We destroy any who take what is ours.
Against my will, a memory of her soft skin beneath my hands suddenly met my addled mind, the sound of her breathing as I—
"No."
The word escaped as a growl. I would not allow myself to dwell on what had transpired between us. How I'd nearly fucked her. How I'd nearly fucked my enemy. It was weakness, nothing more. A momentary lapse in judgment brought on by months of denied desire and the shock of finding her once again.
And yet… that body… those tits that hung with such delicious heaviness. That thatch of downy hair above her quim that matched the same hair on her head. The scent of her heat, her wetness…
I brought my fingers to my nose—not for the first time. I could still smell her on my fingers. And I relished the scent—so did the dragon. It purred as it inhaled through me. I never wanted to wash my hands again. Part of me wanted to taste her—to bring my fingers to my tongue—but I didn't want to lose the scent of her on my fingers.
You are unraveling, Arthur Pendragon,I told myself, the words echoing in the hollow chambers of my mind. The admission tasted bitter on my tongue, more shameful than any defeat I'd ever suffered. Here I stood, King of Camelot, conqueror of nations, reduced to a man obsessing over the lingering scent of a woman's cunt on his fingers like some lovesick fool.
The realization sent tremors of rage through my chest. My jaw clenched so tightly I could feel the muscle jumping beneath the skin, my hands curling into fists at my sides. The thought that I could be brought so low by mere desire was intolerable.
And then fire shot through me, white-hot and purifying. The familiar burn of righteous fury that had carried me through countless battles, through years of hard decisions and harder truths. I was not going to allow a woman to overcome me.
