Page 23 of Beast of Blood and Ash (Drakarn Mates #6)

He moved it slowly at first, the powerful muscle gliding through the water to wrap around my calf. The scales were smooth, the pressure a strange weight. He used it to pull me closer, then to trace patterns along my spine, my hips, my inner thighs.

The sensation was alien and wrong and exactly what I needed.

My body arched into the contact, nerves shorting out from the inside.

I’d spent so long fearing the power in a Drakarn’s touch, the way a tail could pin or a claw could wound.

But Omvar’s tail was an extension of his care—possessive, yes, but worshipful, marking me not as prey, but as something treasured.

He pulled me gently onto his lap, the water rising to caress my stomach. I felt the tip of his tail flick and tease at the juncture of my thighs, testing, always waiting for a flinch, a command to stop.

I didn’t give him one.

His lips trailed along my jaw, down my neck, nipping just hard enough to make me gasp. His hands found my hips under the water, anchoring me, grounding me in the present. When his tongue flicked the shell of my ear, I lost the last of my composure.

I ground down, pressure and heat combining, the whole world contracting to the points where we touched. His tail cupped my ass, fingers splaying along my stomach, drawing me back against the hard, inhuman lines of his body.

A spike of anxiety lanced through me, sudden and brutal, a memory, a warning, the old terror that pleasure would always lead to pain.

I flinched.

He froze instantly, tail going slack, hands loosening. His mouth hovered at my throat, breath ragged.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, the words soaked in adoration and uncertainty.

I pulled in a shaky breath and forced myself to look at him. His eyes, gold and fathomless, held nothing but devotion. Not demand. Not threat.

I focused on that gaze, anchored by the present and the steady pulse of his heart beneath my hand.

“I’m okay,” I murmured. “I want this. Just … slower.”

He nodded, the motion tiny but absolute. He shifted, moving with infinite care, his tail only returning to its slow, deliberate strokes once I pressed back into him.

The water swirled, heat building again. He let his tail tease the insides of my thighs, tracing patterns that had no name, drawing pleasure where there had once been only terror.

The tip danced higher, nudging at my slick folds, never entering, just tasting, coaxing.

He kissed me again, slower now, his mouth speaking the same reverence as his body. Each touch was a plea, a promise, an act of worship.

“You’re safe,” he whispered into my skin. “You’re mine, thravena . Only ever mine to claim.”

The word settled into me, a healing balm and an electric shock.

His tail pressed higher, dipping into my wetness, stroking me in counterpoint to his mouth. The sensation was so new, so shockingly right, that waves of heat rolled over me. I bucked, arching, caught between pleasure and the old, hungry ache for control.

He let me set the pace. My hands found his shoulders, nails digging into his scaled flesh, and I rocked against his tail, chased the building storm. His other hand moved to my breast, teasing, squeezing, every touch tuned to my need.

The climax came slow, then all at once: a shockwave tearing through the hollow of my body, a sob breaking free as I shattered on him, his name dissolving on my tongue. He held me through it, tail locked tight, arms a wall and a sanctuary all at once.

I collapsed against his chest, breath coming in harsh, needy gulps. He stroked my back, his tail holding me close as the aftershocks faded. I could feel the thrum of his arousal, the weight of his cock pressed against my skin, begging for permission.

I wanted him, all of him.

I turned, rising above the fear, finding a new kind of boldness in my battered bones. I straddled his lap, water sheeting off my skin.

“More,” I said, voice hoarse with want, with hope.

His eyes widened, a flash of helpless awe before I took him in hand. The feel of him, hot, ridged, the mobile lip at the head flexing under my grip, sent a bolt of power through me.

I guided him to my entrance, both of us slick with water and need. He watched my face, checking for the faintest tremor or recoil. I gave him none. I was in control, guiding him into me inch by inch, letting the strange, beautiful friction stretch and fill me.

He let out a guttural moan, hands bracing my hips, but didn’t thrust, didn’t force. I rocked, slow, learning his body and my own all over again.

The world narrowed to the place where we were joined, to the water sloshing around us, to the heat crystal’s glow gilding our skin. I moved, claiming every inch, every thrust, chasing pleasure and erasing old ghosts.

“ Thravena ,” he said the word over and over again, that special name that was only mine.

Another wave of pleasure built and built until it finally cascaded over me, taking Omvar with it. I felt completely safe, cherished, dissolving into him as he roared his release into my neck, his tail curling around my waist.

After, we lingered, entwined in the scented, mineral-rich pool, content, safe, sated.

I could live in the bath forever.

We were tangled together in the warm, quiet water, my head resting on his chest, his wings a half-submerged canopy around us. I’d never felt so peaceful, so whole. A soft, hopeful laugh bubbled up from my chest.

For one crystalline moment, I let myself believe in it.

A sharp, urgent voice shattered the quiet.

“Omvar!”

A Council runner stood silhouetted at the cavern entrance, his posture rigid with alarm. “The Blade Council requires your presence. Now.”