I push up on one elbow, studying his face in the dim light. "The attack is coming soon."
"Yes."
"Then we should—" I start to move and his hand tightens on my hip, holding me in place.
"Not yet." That commanding tone that makes heat pool low in my belly. "There's something you need to learn first."
"What?"
"How to use the bond in combat. How to coordinate attacks without speaking." His dark eyes hold mine. His hands settle on my waist with possessive certainty. "The bond requires practice. Trust. Letting your barriers down completely while maintaining enough control to function in battle."
I see where this is going. "So teach me."
The kiss starts slow. Deliberate. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and hunger spikes sharp and bright across the connection. Everything amplifies—his desire feeding mine, mine intensifying his, creating a feedback loop that makes rational thought difficult.
When I pull back, we're both breathing hard.
"Like that," he says, voice rough. "But in combat, you can't afford to be distracted by sensation. You need to filter the bond. Take what's useful, block what isn't."
I rock against him, feeling him hard and ready beneath me. "And what's useful in combat?"
"Location awareness. Threat assessment. Coordinated strikes." His hands tighten on my waist, holding me still when I try to move again. "But first you learn control. Prove you can maintain focus while the bond is wide open."
Challenge accepted.
I reach for the bond deliberately, lowering the barriers I've unconsciously kept in place since the claiming. Sensation floods the connection—his arousal, his possessive need, the claiming urge that never entirely fades. Underneath it all, the dragon's satisfaction at having its mate here, alive, safe.
"Good." His approval flows across the link. "Deeper. Feel what I feel."
I push the connection further. Suddenly I'm experiencing my own body from his point of view—the heat of my pussy pressed against his cock, the way my breasts feel in his hands when he squeezes them, the sight of copper hair falling around my face while my pupils blow wide with want. It's disorienting and intimate in ways that make my breath catch.
This is what you feel when you touch me?
Always.The response comes without hesitation.Your turn.
I open my side of the bond completely. Let him feel the ache between my thighs, the way his hands on my skin make every nerve ending light up, the way my pussy clenches around nothing, desperate to be filled. Analytical instinct catalogues responses while dragon need demands I take what I want.
His hunger surges across the link. His control fractures at the edges. Something dangerous rises beneath his skin.
"On your back." The command comes out rough. "Spread your legs. Now."
I move and his hands grip me, positioning me exactly where he wants me. On my back on the furs, thighs spread wide,completely exposed. He kneels between my legs, and satisfaction radiates across the bond—and underneath it, the dragon's hunger threatening to break free.
His hands grip my inner thighs, spreading me wider. Forcing me open. "Look how wet you are already. Dripping for me."
Heat floods my face but I don't look away. His hunger spikes at the sight of me laid bare before him.
"Watch." He grips my hips hard enough to bruise. "Feel what I feel."
Then his mouth is on my pussy and dual sensation crashes across every nerve. My pleasure and his satisfaction combining until I can't tell which is which. I experience my own arousal from his perspective—the taste of me on his tongue, sweet and salt and purely mine, the way my hips try to rock against his mouth before his hands pin me down.
And underneath it all, possessive certainty.Mine.
He works me with ruthless precision, tongue circling my clit in patterns that make coherent thought impossible. Broad strokes that make me gasp, then focused attention that has me crying out. He catalogues my responses like a predator learning prey.
"Finn, please?—"
He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot against my oversensitive flesh. "Not yet."
