"Tell him you arenotour mate," Korin continued. "Tell him you are not our queen."
"I'm not your—" Sol's voice cracked. "I'm not—"
She couldn't say it.
No matter how hard she tried, no matter how desperately she wanted to deny this madness, the words simply would not form.
"Dragons cannot lie," Korin’s gaze locked with his brother's. "Not even to themselves. Not even when they wish to. She cannot deny what she is because she is exactly what I said. Our mate. Our queen. The one we have waited centuries to find."
Pyrran stared at Sol.
The silence stretched like a held breath.
And then, slowly, terribly, the massive dragon began to move.
Water cascaded from his body as he rose from the lake. His wings—vast, leathery, and edged with silver—unfurled from his back with a sound like thunder. His claws—each one longer than Sol's arm—sank into the rock at the water's edge.
Oh no.
He was even more magnificent than Korin.
And far more terrifying.
But it wasn't just his eyes or his size that Sol noticed. Between his hind legs exposed an enormous dragon love sword. Thick as a temple column and much longer than she was tall, it jutted from his body with obvious, angry arousal. The shaft was ridged with scales that shifted from black to silver, and the massive, mushroomed head glistened with silver drops of liquid that dripped to the ground in front of him.
Korin spotted his brother’s love sword too, and a loud laugh rumbled from him. "You may question whether she is a witch, brother, but your body clearly knows she is your mate."
Pyrran's growl shook the cavern walls. His silver eyes blazed with fury—at her, at himself, at the undeniable evidence of hisown desire. But even as he snarled, more of that silver essence leaked from his love sword’s bulbous tip. "Silence."
"Your cock speaks louder than your doubt." Korin's voice carried that infuriating amusement. "Look at your cock dripping for her like a hatchling in his first rut. When was the last time you were this hard, brother? A century? Two?"
Pyrran roared.
Sol shivered.
Korin laughed even more.
"Come." Pyrran remained at the edge of the lake. "If you are truly what my brother claims. . .then you will meet me. You will let me see you. Smell you. Know you."
Sol couldn't move.
Her legs had turned to stone. Her heart hammered so violently she could taste copper on her tongue. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to run, to hide, to flee back through that doorway and never return.
But Korin's hand pressed gently against her back. "Go to him. He needs this. We both do."
"I can't—"
"You can. You are a dragon, little one. You are stronger than you know."
Sol took one step.
Then another.
The rock was warm beneath her bare feet. Gold coins crunched softly with each step. Steam curled around her ankles as she approached the water's edge, where Pyrran waited with those terrible silver eyes.
She stopped three feet away from him.
His head lowered, bringing his face close to hers. Close enough that she could see every scale. Every scar. Every ancient line carved into his obsidian hide.
