PROLOGUE
THE DRAGON
The water is the perfect temperature. I've checked it three times.
I carry Adelaide's sleeping form into the bathing chamber, cradling her against my chest like she might shatter. My large iridescent blue wings are tucked carefully behind me as I move through the doorway, angling them slightly to fit through the passage. The scales catch the lamplight, shimmering with an otherworldly gleam.
In this first year, I'm still learning how fragile humans are. How careful I need to be with my claws, my strength, my size.
"Time for your bath, my treasure," I murmur, lowering her into the copper tub. Her head lolls back, and I support it with one hand while I arrange her limbs. The spell keeps her perfectly preserved. Nineteen forever, suspended in that moment between girlhood and womanhood. Her father was going to give her away. Sell her to some prince who would have rutted on her until she died in childbirth. Used her as a political chess piece.
I saved her from that.
I peel away her silk nightgown, white this time, clinging to her tan skin like a second layer I need to strip away to reach what's mine. The wet fabric resists me, plastered to every curve, and the challenge of it makes my cock throb. My clawed fingers work carefully, obsessively, sliding beneath the soaked material. Her dark nipples are visible through the translucent silk, taunting me, and I take my time revealing them. One scaled hand eases the strap down her shoulder, slowly, her breast emerges inch by torturous inch, the swell, the curve, the peaked nipple finally exposed to my hungry gaze. Then the other strap. The other breast spilling free.Perfect.
They're always perfect, fitting in my large hands like they were made for me to hold, to possess. Buoyant in the water, they move with each breath she takes, and I'm mesmerized. It takes time, too much time and not enough, shimmying the silk past her hips, her thighs, finally freeing her completely. Mine to see. Mine to touch.Mine.
"I know you can hear me," I say, reaching for the soap. "You can’t respond, but I'm going to talk to you anyway. I need you to understand why I'm doing this."
I soap up my hands and begin washing her shoulders, then her arms. My claws retract as much as they can, but I'm still so careful. One wrong move and I could tear that perfect tan skin.
"The world is cruel, Adelaide. Your father proved that when he bartered you like livestock. The prince proved it when he agreed to the trade. A virgin princess for a military alliance.Disgusting." I wash her breasts, trying to keep my touch clinical, but my cock is already hardening. "They would have used you up. Bred you until your body broke. Called it duty and honor while they destroyed you."
I cup water and pour it over her shoulders, watching it cascade down her body.
“I couldn’t let them do that to you. I watched you, Adelaide. Over this last year. I wanted to protect you. Make sure you stayed safe.” I pour more water over her shoulders to wash the soap away.
“Watched you reading in the palace gardens. Running through the flower fields, laughing as the servant children tried to catch up. You were so innocent. Precious. Then I watched you entertain… suitors… this last year. That’s where I drew the line, Adelaide. I watched them put their disgusting hands on you. Watched you coyly rebuff their advances. You are too perfect for this world, princess. None of those men deserved you. None.” I massage soap onto her breasts. My breathing becomes a little labored as I try to keep my touch clinical. Necessary only.
“They didn’t deserve your innocence. Your perfect smile or your perfect mind. That’s why I killed them. Every single suitor who came to visit you. That’s why I saved you.” Rivulets of soapy water trickle down her perfect body. It drips over her pert, dark nipples. They pucker as I blow my breath over them.Perfect.
"But here? Here you're safe. Here you'll never age, never sicken, never die. The spell keeps you perfect. Nineteen forever." I pause, my hand resting on her stomach. "When it's safe, I'll wake you. When the world has forgotten about the princess in the tower. When your father is dead, and that prince has married someone else. Probably. Maybe."
I'm not sure yet. The thought of waking her, of seeing fear or hatred in those amber eyes, makes something twist in my chest.
"You don't need to worry," I continue, moving lower to wash her thighs. "Time means nothing under my magic. You could sleep for a hundred years and wake up exactly as you are now."
As I wash between her legs, my hand lingers on her delicate folds. She's so soft here, so smooth and perfect. My cock throbs, pressing against the fabric of my pants.
Not yet. Finish the ritual first. Then I can take myself in hand like I always do.
I lift her from the tub and dry her with soft towels, patting every inch of her skin until she's warm and dry. Then I carry her to the vanity and sit her in the chair, supporting her head while I brush out her long hair.
"Your hair is beautiful," I whisper to her, working through the tangles with careful strokes. "Like spun gold. The prince would have made you cut it, you know. Would have said it was improper for a married woman to wear it long."
I braid it slowly, my clawed fingers surprisingly deft at the task. I've been practicing. Three strands woven together, secured with a silk ribbon.
"There. Perfect."
I dress her in red silk tonight. A deep red. Like blood. A nightgown that clings to her curves and falls to mid-thigh. Her nipples poke through in tight buds. I've used magic to make dozens of silk nightgowns in every color. Always silk or lace. Always translucent. I like dressing her, choosing what she'll wear, knowing I'm the only one who sees her like this. The only one who will ever see her like this.
I spend hours sometimes, just deciding which color, which fabric, which cut will look most beautiful against her skin. Every detail of her care is sacred to me—a ritual, a worship, a devotion that consumes every waking moment.
I carry her to the bed and lay her down on the silk sheets. She looks like a painting. Like something too beautiful to be real.
And I decide then that I can't wait anymore.
"Adelaide," I whisper, as I unbuckle my belt and push my pants to the floor, stepping out of them. “Sweet Adelaide,” I murmur as I climb onto the bed beside her. "I'm sorry.I’m so sorry. I know I said I'd wait. That I'd keep you safe and untouched until I woke you.” My clawed hand tweaks one of her nipples through the silk. My cock twitches. “But I can't. You're too beautiful. I've tried to resist, but every night when I bathe you, dress you, put you to bed… I want you so badly it hurts."
