Sol gasped.
He’s. . .changing back into a man.
Every heartbeat seemed synced to the rattle and grind of his bones. His wings split, cracked, then folded in on themselves. Scales turned to flesh. Muscles tightened. Fangs shortened. His tail convulsed, then vanished into smoke.
His roars became grunts.
Then groans.
Then ragged masculine breaths.
And there. . .through the swirl of gold dust and dissolving scales. . .she saw him.
Korin.
This towering human.
Naked.
Terrifyingly beautiful.
Sculpted muscle.
He rose from the ashes of himself, his body dripping in the golden remnants of his dragon form. Hair black as shadow spilled over his shoulders in loose, wet waves. His skin was a golden hue. His shoulders were broad. Chest sculpted in muscle. Every inch of him was an ode to danger and temptation.
And his golden eyes—still those blazing twin suns—remained locked on her.
But even more. . .his love blade had gotten smaller, but still was big too for a human.
She tried to look away, but failed.
It was so long and thick.
This is what a man’s love blade looks like.
She stifled a moan.
This is better than those pictures from my mother’s book.
A strange longing unfurled in her belly.
Yet still. . .I do not think it will fit.
He looked exhausted, yet he remained standing and stepped toward her. Coins rearranged beneath his bare feet.
What is he going to do?
As if hearing her, he answered by kneeling right in front of her.
Slowly.
Majestically.
A king laying down his sword in front of a queen.
Her breath caught.
W-what is he doing?
