And gods, Cedric had never wanted anything more than to keep it that way. The magic roared in protest, sinking hooks into his bones. The beast was still there, waiting to take control again.
Cedric shrank back another step.
I have to leave. Now.
Because if he stayed, he would not win this fight twice.
“What’s wrong, beast?” Darius again. A pause, then a slow, taunting smirk. “Kill him, or I’ll make you watch what I do to him instead.”
Cedric’s body went rigid, head swinging toward the royal box. For a single heartbeat, Finn thought Cedric might lunge at Darius instead. That the dragon would tear through the stands, raze the king’s gilded throne to ruin, end this madness. But he didn’t.
Cedric’s gaze drifted back to Finn.
Finn shut his eyes. Whatever hold Darius had on Cedric, it was too much. Stronger than Cedric’s heart and soul. He had tried.
But Cedric was slipping away again.
The corners of Finn’s eyes burned with tears, and he didn’t know if they were for himself, Cedric, or losing what they could have been. Maybe all of it.
He remembered the feel of Cedric against him that night in the stable, soft, warm, and right. The way the prince had resisted, terrified of wanting, and then the way he had finally given himself up. Not because he’d been forced, not because he’d lost, but because he had felt safe.
Trembling, Finn’s eyes flashed open. His body was wrecked. Every muscle ached. His arms trembled from holding a shield that was long gone. He had no strength left.
Finn was done.
His gaze met Cedric’s…and his breath caught. There was true recognition in those eyes again. Pain. Anguish.
And beneath it all, a desperate, clinging love.
Cedric was himself for the moment. But what could they do? A knight and a dragon, outnumbered.
Outmatched.
Already, Finn glimpsed guards preparing to enter the arena at Darius’s behest. Then he and Cedric would both die, and this would all be for nothing.
And Darius wasn’t going to let them die quickly.
Finn’s blood went cold. His head tipped back against the sand, staring up at the sky. If Cedric didn’t kill him now, Darius would use him as a knife to carve the prince apart.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“You said I was yours,” Finn rasped, forcing the words through the raw ruin of his throat. “Then take me, Cedric. But don’t let him have me. Not again.”
He shut his eyes. If this was the end, let it be Cedric.
Not Darius. Not torture. Just…Cedric. Just him. Just them.
When nothing happened, Finn’s lashes fluttered open again. Cedric—his dragon—stared at him, then shook his head. No. A human gesture. A refusal.
Why? Didn’t Cedric see? Didn’t he understand?
The arena doors groaned open. Spears glinted as guards raced in. Finn’s head thumped back into the sand, resigned.
“Cedric, please. If you love me, don’t let me go back.” Finn squeezed his eyes shut. A sob lodged somewhere deep in his chest. His hands curled into useless fists in the sand.
A sound rumbled from Cedric’s chest—a low, broken rumble that rattled through the marrow of Finn’s bones. He smiled, though his eyes burned from the grit and unshed tears.
He let go. Relaxed into it. Cedric would make it quick. Painless.
