Then not.
A sound left me that I didn't plan.
"Mmmm.” He bit his lip and then calmed his expression. “Still sore?"
"Yes."
“Good.” His thumb pressed harder. A dull, sweet ache bloomed from the mark and spread down through my breasts, my belly, lower to my pussy, settling hot and liquid.
I moaned and my knees almost gave out.
“Mmmm.” He moved his thumb from the bite and pressed one more kiss to my forehead.
Soft.
Tender.
Then he pulled back, and I caught it.
Just a flicker.
His eyes dropped to my mouth. Then lower—my neck, my collarbone, the place where my pulse hammered beneath my skin.
His jaw tightened.
His hand curled into a fist at his side.
He wanted to stay.
Every line of his body said so.
But he stepped back.
And then he was gone.
Fuck.
I stood in the doorway of my transformed office with my lips still tingling and my heart racing.
What are we going to do today?
I turned around and stepped further inside.
The woman with the silver-streaked chignon approached me. "The Dragon chose this gown for you.”
“Okay.” I walked toward the stand near the window. “This is so beautiful.”
At first glance, the gown was truly fire—reds, oranges, golds. But then, I stepped closer, and my breath became shallow.
After this morning—the pyre, the bodies, the flames climbing toward an ash-choked sky—fire should have repulsed me. Should have sent me spiraling back into that dark place where I couldn't breathe.
But I couldn't look away.
Because the longer I stared, the more I saw something else too.
At the hem, where the deepest crimsons pooled like embers, delicate feathers had been stitched into the fabric.
Subtle.
