Andanother.
Sol lost count.
Lost herself.
Lost everything except the feeling of being claimed, completed,conqueredby her two dragon kings.
When it finally ended—when the last aftershock faded and the last pulse of their seed emptied into her—she floated in the darkness of the shattered dream-sky, pinned between her mates, their cocks still buried deep, their bodies still pressed against hers.
She was ruined.
She was remade.
She wastheirs.
"Ours," Korin murmured against her scales, and she felt the word settle into her bones.
"Forever," Pyrran rumbled from behind her, and she felt it become truth.
When you wake, the ancient voice whispered,what was dreamed will become real.
Sol's dream-eyes fluttered closed.
And even within sleep, her dragon body purred with deep satisfaction.
Sol woke with a gasp and then noticed that she was no longer a dragon.
I’m human again.
The realization crashed through her like cold water. For the first time in a long time, her body felt wrong.
Too compact.
Too weak.
Like wearing clothes three sizes too small after knowing what it felt like to fill the sky.
When did I shift back?
She didn't remember choosing it. Didn't remember her bones shrinking, her scales retreating, her wings folding back into flesh that couldn't possibly contain them. The transformation must have happened while she slept—her exhausted body defaulting to the form it had worn for so many years.
But her dragon was still there.
She could feel it inside her now, coiled beneath her skin, waiting.
Patient.
A goddess curled inside a mortal shell.
Sol blinked, allowing her vision to adjust to dim golden light. She was no longer in the empty cavern, and she was definitely naked.
Where am I?
She took in the space and realized that she was lying on silk—cool and soft against her bare skin. The ceiling above her glittered with veins of gold running through black volcanic stone. Candles magically floated in the air around the room.
And even though it was a bedroom clearly carved within a mountain, treasure was still there. Gold coins spilling from chests. Ropes of pearls draped over ancient crowns. Gemstones the size of her fist scattered like carelessly tossed rocks.
Good. It is not empty.
