"I don't fuck prisoners."
The pleasure coiled tight at the base of my spine, demanding release. I could feel it building, threatening to destroy what little control remained. With a savage jerk, I pulled free of her mouthand gripped my cock, stroking furiously as the climax tore through me.
My seed painted her face in thick ropes—across her cheeks, her lips, her chin. She stayed perfectly still, eyes closed, accepting my claim with something that looked disturbingly like reverence.
When I finished, she opened her eyes and looked up at me through the mess I'd made of her face. Then, in one final act of defiance that nearly brought me to my knees, she extended her tongue and slowly, deliberately licked the cum from her lips.
She is the mate we burn for. Only her.
"Clean yourself," I commanded, my voice rough as I turned away from her, pulling my braies up.
I was angry—furious, actually. I'd debased her, painted her with my seed like some common whore, and yet, despite my dominance, my harsh words, my rough handling—it felt as if she'd somehow bested me. She'd taken everything I'd given her and met it with a refusal to bow. That final act—the way she'd slowly, deliberately drawn her tongue across her lips to taste my essence—it had been pure provocation, calculated defiance disguised as submission. Even covered in my cum, even kneeling at my feet like a supplicant, she'd managed to turn the tables on me. The gesture had been her way of declaring that despite everything I'd done to dominate her, to break her will and force her compliance, I hadn't bested her at all. She remained unbroken, unbowed, and that realization sent another wave of dark hunger through my blood that I had to fight to suppress.
Overcome with my desire for her, I needed to put space between us, so I paced to the other side of the room, still warring with myself over whether this idea I'd come up with was the best path forward. I braced my hands against the stone window frame, fighting against the desire that continued to threaten my judgment. This attraction was a liability, a weakness myenemies would exploit without hesitation. Yet I couldn't deny its existence—the way she'd consumed my thoughts since that first encounter all those weeks earlier.
"I should end this now," I said firmly as I turned to face her, noticing that she was now standing and had wrapped the soiled cloak around her. "Execute you and be done with it."
Even as I said the words, I knew I couldn't give that order—not immediately. The strategic value of keeping her alive temporarily outweighed the risk she represented. That was what I told myself, anyway, though a deeper truth lurked beneath the rationalization like a serpent coiled in tall grass.
"Yet you haven't?"
It wasn't lost on me that she had used my cloak to clean the cum from her face. Of course, I didn't know what else she would have used, but it still felt like a gesture of rebellion. Just another way of saying:you haven't won.
I breathed in deeply. "No."
I turned away from her, unable to look at her striking face and defiant posture without feeling the overwhelming urge to lift her into my arms, carry her to the massive bed, and slam her down against the silk coverlets. The thought of her spread beneath me stoked the fire within me—fire I couldn't afford to indulge.
Take her. Press her under us. Make her yield.
I gritted my teeth against the beast's relentless demands, my hands trembling slightly as I fought to maintain control over both my body and the ancient power that threatened to consume me entirely.
I'd just spent myself all over her face, and here I was, eager to fuck her. My cock was already stirring.
"I won't be manipulated," I said softly as I turned around to face her, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "Not by Merlin, not by the sword, and certainly not by you."
"I don't intend to manipulate you."
The only thing I knew was that this woman had awakened something in me that neither wisdom nor will could easily subdue—a hunger that transcended physical desire to touch the deepest questions of my identity and purpose.
I straightened my shoulders and approached her, ready to offer her the solution I had already reached. She stood there, holding my gaze with her own. I stepped closer to her, watching her carefully. Her defiance only fueled my desire to bend her to my will.
"You should consider yourself fortunate."
"Fortunate?"
"By all rights, your head should already be decorating a pike outside these walls. Treason against the crown isn't something I overlook—not from nobles, not from commoners, and certainly not from Merlin's carefully crafted spies."
The words hung in the air between us, yet she lifted her chin with that maddening indifference that both infuriated and aroused me, those extraordinary eyes meeting mine without so much as a tremor of fear. The gesture exposed the elegant line of her throat, and I found my gaze drawn to the rapid pulse beating just beneath her pale skin.
Bite her. Mark her. Bend her to our will.
The dragon's voice rumbled through my consciousness, and I had to clench my jaw against the urge to lean forward and taste that vulnerable spot where her life force thrummed so enticingly close to the surface.
She said nothing; the expression in her eyes—a mixture of resignation, fury, and something else I couldn't quite identify—said everything that needed saying.
I paused in my assessment of her, doing everything in my power to keep from reaching out and gripping that stubbornchin, from tilting her face up and claiming that mouth with my own until she yielded to me completely.
All the while, I was aware of her desire. It had scented the whole room, and I was doing everything I could not to get drunk on it.
