The dragon’s gaze roved across her face, the whites of his eyes flashing with every pass. Those massive hands still held her waist. They flexed when he grated, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, my Shiya.”
Chapter Twelve
Taevas hadn’t anticipatedanything more than this moment in his entire life. It felt bigger than the day the clans finally selected him as Isand of Isands, Dragon of Dragons, Lord of the Clans. It was more momentous than the day he signed the Peace Charter. It was the culmination of a decade of self-denial, yearning, and frustration. It washer.
Taevas attributed the way she stared up at him with wide eyes as being star-struck. It happened enough. He was the Isand, after all, and he could only imagine how shocking it would be to have someone like him in his home unexpectedly. She clearly hadn’t been able to recognize him in his other form, but there was no possibility of that now.
Hoping to give her a little time to recover herself, he forced his hands away from her waist. “Easy,” he murmured, looking her over hungrily. He couldn’t touch her, but gods, he couldlook.He’d become an expert at it.
“Take deep breaths now,metsalill.”
His fingers flexed. The urge to stroke her arms, to soothe, to feel the heat of her on his palms again, was almost impossible to resist. He managed it, but only barely.
Hoping to distract himself, he asked, “Maybe you would feel more comfortable if I had something to cover myself?”
Dragons didn’t bother themselves about nudity. Clothing was for decoration and status more than anything else. He was lucky that he could afford to have much of his wardrobe imbued with magic that allowed it to survive his shift, but many dragons either couldn’t afford such luxuries or didn’t bother. They lived in the nude half the time anyway, so what was the point of being ashamed of it when they had two legs rather than four?
Taevas had vague memories of his clothing being exchanged for little more than rags during his captivity, which explained why he currently stood nude in Alashiya’s kitchen. It was a smart move on his captor’s part, considering his clothing could’vehad tracking devices sewn in, but it filled him with a deep, keen-edged rage at the thought that other beings had laid hands on what his nymph made just for him.
Alashiya gave him a blank look. “Cover…” She blanched. “Oh, yes! Um, I have— I should have something.”
She looked harried as she scurried out of the kitchen, her eyes always carefully averted from his cock. Taevas watched her go with a chuckle. It was for the best. He didn’t think it would do her any good if he explained why he was half-hard.
Would she bring him the robe he’d commissioned? He had mixed feelings about the garment now, after having seen her work her fingers to the bone on it. It bothered him badly that she worked so hard, but it was undeniable that the piece was a marvel. He could already imagine how grand he’d look with it on — and the pride with which he’d display her skill.
But his nymph didn’t bring him the robe he’d paid for. She crept back into the kitchen with what looked like a bundle of off-white linen. “Here. This should fit,” she muttered, thrusting it into his arms.
Taevas took it with an arched brow. Shaking out the bundle, he discovered a breezy pair of pants. They appeared to be about the right size, though his tail would prove problematic. He’d justdecided to use his thumb claw to split a small hole in the fabric when a troubling thought occurred to him. Turning a sharp look on her, he asked, “Who do these belong to?”
It wasn’t unreasonable to assume they might be a commission for someone else, or perhaps something equally innocuous, but Taevas’s riotous instincts weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. It didn’t matter that there were no fresh scents of anyone else in the home, nor that he hadn’t seen Alashiya so much as pick up a phone to speak to another person since he’d arrived.
My territory,the new, unreasonable thing in him growled.My nymph.
She’d said what he thought was a man’s name once before.Adon.Were they his? They’d be having a tense discussion if so.
“Does it matter?” Alashiya gave him a peculiar look. “They should fit.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to snap that itdidmatter — very much, in fact. If he was going to wear another man’s clothes, then it had damn well better not be an ex-lover. Just the thought made him itch to shred the pants into ribbons.
Ridiculous,he scolded himself. Taevas Aždaja didn’t get jealous. He didn’t throw temper tantrums. So he clenched his jaw and moved to put on the damn pants.
Alashiya made a tiny squeaking sound. “I, uh— I’ll give you some privacy!”
He looked up in time to see her rush out of the room again. The hem of her skirt fluttered as she slipped through the doorway, as soft and pretty as her. His annoyance took a backseat to a bloom of warmth.
This is the same woman who threatened a dragon with a wooden spoon,he thought, shaking his head.And yet she runs when her man puts pants on. Oh, my Shiya, we will have so much fun together.
It was almost unbearably charming. He fought a smile as he listened to Alashiya move about somewhere just out of sight.
Resigning himself to his task so he could more quickly reunitewith his nymph, Taevas delicately sliced a hole suitable for his tail before he slid his legs into the pants. The fly was the old-fashioned button-up kind, which he detested, but after some cursing, Taevas managed to get the pants up and suitably fastened over his needy cock.
His body screamed from the effort, but he ignored it. The soreness, the acute pain of his still-healing wounds, the nausea that churned in his gut, the fever that still burned beneath his skin, and the deeply concerning stiffness of his wings — all of it could wait until he had Alashiya in his sights again.
“I’m decent,metsalill,”he called out. When he didn’t receive a reply after several beats, Taevas blew out a breath.So shy.
Smoothing his hair back behind the points of his ears — and making a note to braid it as soon as he had a proper shower — he padded out of the kitchen and into the hall. The darkness didn’t hinder him as he peered down the length of it, wondering what lay beyond. Alashiya never went that way. She seemed to exist entirely in the garden, kitchen, converted living room, and bathroom.
He only vaguely recalled the shape of the house from his delirious trek up the hill and wondered at its size. From where he stood, he could make out four closed doors and then another one at the far end, which presumably led to more rooms. It was quite a large dwelling, though it was painfully low to the ground and in hideous disrepair.
