She was lush. That was the word that kept circling my mind. Generous curves that looked soft and warm, exactly the kind of body a dragon wanted to curl around and protect. Her breasts were full, peaked with rose-colored nipples that had tightened when she’d entered the hot water. Her waist dipped inward beforeflaring to rounded hips, and her thighs were thick enough to cushion a male’s hips perfectly if he were foolish enough to?—
I banked hard, changing direction violently enough that my wings protested.
This was madness. We’d agreed on a professional partnership. Cordial distance. No intimacy.
Except my dragon side didn’t care about agreements. It knew what it wanted, and what it wanted was currently standing in my chambers wearing my clothing, smelling like my soap, rumpled and thoroughly appealing.
I flew harder, pushing myself toward the mountain peaks where the air grew thin and cold. Physical exertion had always been my solution when emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Fly until exhausted. Fight until drained. Work until numb.
But no matter how high I climbed or how fast I flew, I couldn’t escape the memory of Adele’s face when she’d talked about her research. That unguarded enthusiasm, the way her whole being lit up. She said most people found her scattered nature irritating. I found it captivating.
She didn’t perform for me. Didn’t try to be anything other than exactly who she was. She’d arrived two hours late to our wedding and apologized by explaining what she was working on. She’d agreed to a loveless marriage with obvious relief. She’d studied my naked body with the same clinical interest she’d shown the bathing chamber’s geological features.
And somehow, impossibly, that made me want her more.
I looked down, furious to discover I was still erect. In dragon form, it was less obvious but no less uncomfortable. But if any of my people looked up and noticed their king flying around with a hard-on, I’d never liveit down.
Raoul Emberforge, Dragon King of the Emberforge Territories, renowned for his iron control and perfect discipline, unable to master his cock around his new wife.
The humiliation was almost enough to cool my ardor.
I forced myself to slow down, to breathe, to think rationally. This was simple biology. Adele was gorgeous, and I was a healthy male dragon in his prime. Physical attraction was natural. It didn’t mean anything beyond basic instinct.
The fact that I wanted to hear her explain weather patterns for hours while I watched her face light up with passion was merely appreciation for her intelligence.
The fact that I’d given her my chambers and felt satisfaction seeing her in my space was practical hospitality.
And the fact that my dragon side purred with contentment every time she said my name was…concerning.
No. I wasn’t becoming attached. I’d learned that lesson too well, too young. Attachment led to loss, and loss led to the kind of pain that carved permanent scars into your soul.
My parents’ deaths had taught me that caring deeply meant suffering when the inevitable separation came. Better to maintain distance. Better to keep everyone at arm’s length where their eventual departure couldn’t destroy you.
Adele had agreed to exactly that arrangement. She wanted her research and her freedom, not a husband who hovered and demanded emotional connection.
So why did her easy acceptance of our loveless marriage feel like rejection?
I circled one more time, letting the cold mountain air finally cool my overheated blood. When I was certain I’d regained control, or at least the appearance of it, I angled back toward the palace, diving toward my open window with the precision that came from years of practice.
I shifted mid-plunge, my dragon form condensing back into my regular shape before I passed through the window opening. My feet hit the stone floor, absorbing the impact with bent knees.
Because I’d left naked, I still was.
Fletcher lay on the sofa still, his droopy eyes following my entrance with what looked like a mix of disapproval and amusement, which should have been impossible for a canine.
“Not a word,” I told him, feeling ridiculous for addressing a dog.
He huffed and closed his eyes.
I stalked to my bedroom, needing clothing as armor against whatever came next. The door was ajar, and I pushed through without thinking?—
Adele stood in front of my tall bureau, usingmyhairbrush on her damp hair, studying her reflection in the mirror mounted above. She’d pulled my tunic higher on one shoulder, but the other side had slipped down, and she hummed while she worked through a tangle.
She looked utterly at home in my bedroom, using my things, wearing my clothes.
Mine, my dragon side growled deep inside me.
I must’ve made a sound because her gaze met mine in the mirror.
