Page 78
Story: The WitchSlayer
Yes, he definitely needed to bed this Witch in order to stop these fantastical thoughts about her.I must dim them.
She is comfortable with me today, that will make it easier.The question remained, how? How did Rurik lure the side of this female that desired him out?She is not like my kind. I cannot be forceful.A Dragoness appreciated dominant males dragging them around. Amalia would not.
“Dragons wear cloaks when we walk about outside our lairs. We do not like our faces to become known.”
“And you have a very distinguishable face.” Her words were followed by a smile, but he could see her eyes ran over the scar across his face.
“That I do.”
His own lips twitched when he smelled the hint of desire mixing into her scent at her own comment. But then she stood, like she was done with the sun and talking to him.
She often did this, ran when he was human, and she felt this way.
He knew she wasn’t aware that he could sense this from her. That he could smell the delicious warm scent of arousal that made him want to pant.
Unwilling to allow her to escape, Rurik followed when she went to the alcove that held the food. He’d obtained more of the foods she preferred when the supply had started to run low, but he used magic to keep it fresh for as long as he wanted.
So as not to crowd her, he leaned against the entryway once he obtained a green apple to eat, and he calmly watched her. She also seemed to be in the mood for fruit because she piled different ones into the skirt of the dress.
He noticed she grabbed an apple for herself. “You prefer red over green?”
She crinkled her nose when she began to walk with her haul down the tunnel.
“I find the green ones sourly sweet.”
That was exactly why he preferred them.
Rurik watched her cut and peel the fruit then place them into a bowl.
He leaned against the side of the table while she sat at one of the ends of it. His eyes scanned the walls before they eventually fell to her, like he was unable to keep them away from her.
I already grow impatient.Especially when he met her eyes and the bridge of her nose pinkened, causing his cock to jerk in his trousers. She fidgeted for a moment in the chair.
“Why are you in your human form today?”
He couldn’t help noticing that her gaze trailed from his face, down his naked chest, and then quickly back up like she had caught herself doing it.
Sometimes when she asked this, he answered her that he had tasks that required smaller hands. Most of the time he didn’t respond because his answer wasn’t one he wanted to share.
When he shrugged, she averted her gaze to her bowl, but he could smell her scent deepening.
One thing Rurik was curious about was why she never tried to approach him or touch him when human. Already he’d come to learn that she wasn’t afraid to be herself, to do as she pleased like climb his back or grab his tail. If she was aroused, why didn’t she do anything about it?
She didn’t hate his kind like he did hers. He had refrained from doing so in unwillingness. He was curious to know why she was restraining herself.
Could be because of the terrible stableboy story she told me.He would show her that one sloppy male wasn’t representative of them all.
Once she was done, she rose to her feet to move her plate away.
He followed next to her when she left, but their footsteps were heading to her room, and he knew she would retreat into it. Mostly Rurik stayed out of it, knowing she needed a comfortable place where she felt secure, even from him.
I tire of waiting.If the moment wouldn’t present itself, then he would try to create it.
He grabbed her wrist gently and pulled until she slammed against his broad chest. His other hand shot up to hold the side of her face to keep her still.
He crashed his lips upon hers.
She froze with her free hand against his shoulder, and he could see that her eyes were wide. He moved his lips once to see if he could spur her into returning the kiss. When she didn’t, he pulled away to give her time to process. She stared at him, but he flicked his eyes between hers and then her lips before licking the bottom one of his own.
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