“You’re mine,” he snarled, one hand gripping her hip, the other tangling in her hair. “My mate. Say it.”
“Yours, Rhavor,” she gasped. “Claim me!”
The words undid him. He thrust harder, the slow burn igniting into an inferno. He pounded into her, the ridges along his lengthstriking that perfect spot inside until she screamed. Climax crashed over her, her walls convulsing, milking him relentlessly.
He followed her with a roar. His wings flared wide, casting a great, jagged shadow over the bed as he spilled inside her—hot, thick jets of seed flooding her depths. Wave after wave shuddered through him, the mating bond sealing deep in his soul.
He collapsed gently against her, making sure he wouldn’t crush her with his weight, still buried deep.
“Mine,” he whispered.
“Yours,” she echoed, her fingers tracing the shimmering scales along his back.
Chapter 23: Sylvie
The rest of the day was a total wash. Sylvie’s head wasn’t in the bakery; it was miles away at the farm with her dragon.
Julian, of course, was being an absolute menace.
“Should we keep a backup supply of extra-thick whipped cream on standby?” he asked, his voice dripping with that bright, insufferable cheer as he polished a display tray. “In case the big guy gets peckish again?”
She tried to freeze him out with a look, but it was hard to be intimidating when her face burned like a forest fire every time the memory flickered—the way Rhavor’s tongue hadcleanedthe cream off her skin.
She was so distracted she set the oven to near-volcanic temperatures and incinerated an entire tray of apple turnovers.
Bobby stared at the blackened husks of pastry as if she’d personally insulted his entire bloodline.
“That’s it,” he grumbled, steering her toward the door. “Time for you to go before you burn the whole street down.”
She didn’t even argue. She couldn’t wait to see Rhavor.
When she stepped inside the house, the silence hit her first.
Her dragon sat hunched at the kitchen table, massive shoulders bowed as if the roof were physically collapsing on him. He held a letter that looked as though it had been folded and unfolded a dozen times.
When he looked up, a faint, tired smile ghosted across his face..
Her heart skipped.
“What happened?” she asked gently.
His eyes storm-dark.
“Ronda’s lawyers,” he said flatly. “They’ll accept the dragon heritage clause.”
“That’s... good, isn’t it? A win?”
“Not exactly. They’ve doubled the deed price.” He tossed the letter aside like it was radioactive waste. “Recalculated for ‘current market value.’ They’re squeezing me, Sylvie.”
He rose, his movements heavy with a restless, coiled energy, and stalked to the window. He stared out at the land with a hunger that made her ache.
“She doesn’t even want the farm,” he growled, his fists clenching until the knuckles turned white. “She just wants to see me lose it.”
The rawness in his voice hit her harder than any legal threat.
“Vera got what we need,” Sylvie said, stepping closer. Her hand found his arm, warm beneath her palm.
His wings twitched.
