Page 10 of Beneath Scales and Shadows (Lost Lunas of Artania #1)

CHAPTER TEN

SORA

Sora jerked awake, a strangled gasp tearing from her throat. Heat surged beneath her skin like a heated scraper, like a brand against her raw nerves. Her nightgown clung to sweat-slicked skin, suddenly intolerable against her hypersensitive flesh.

She clawed at her arms, nails raking across scales that hadn’t been there when she’d fallen asleep. The silvery patches spread wider now, catching the warm glow radiating from the glowstones and reflecting it in mesmerizing patterns. Her skin burned and itched with maddening intensity, as though something within fought to emerge.

“Make it stop,” she whispered, kicking off silken sheets in desperation. “Help…”

A low rumble vibrated through the stone beneath her. Crimson eyes gleamed in the shadows, watchful and alert. Ignis lay curled around her sleeping platform, his massive tail forming a protective circle. He hadn’t been there when she’d fallen asleep, yet somehow his presence grounded her—his nearness dissolving the fear she didn’t know she carried.

She hadn’t heard him move. Hadn’t felt him approach. Yet here he was, guarding her like his most precious treasure.

“Is this normal?” She raked fingernails across her shoulder, loosening flakes of skin that fell away to reveal the delicate shimmer of newly formed fine silver scales. “It feels like I’m being consumed from the inside.”

“Your dragon blood awakens your omega nature more fully.” His voice resonated directly in her mind, instantly soothing her. “The transformation accelerates at night, and continues to do so until your shift is complete and you’ve become what you were meant to be.”

His formidable form shimmered, collapsing onto itself, ruby scales rippling like liquid fire as he shifted into his half-form. Wings folded neatly against his back as taloned feet touched stone. Without a word, he strode to an ornate chest tucked against the foot of her bed, retrieving a large crystal vial filled with iridescent liquid.

“This will ease your discomfort,” he said, his physical voice rougher—more serious—holding a rawness he didn’t have telepathically moments ago. “It contains essence of coldfire heartgems mixed with minerals from the sacred pools.”

Sora swung her legs over the edge of the sleeping platform, fingers still scratching frantically at patches of emerging scales. “I’ll try anything.”

“I must apply it directly to the affected areas.” His gaze locked on her, crimson eyes intense as they studied her with careful restraint. “With your permission.”

The thought of his hands on her bare skin sent a different kind of heat coursing through her veins. The scent of him—midnight stone and ancient fire—wrapped around her, dragging some feral part of her to the surface.

She needed him—not out of want, but out of some desperate, aching need she didn’t understand—screaming to have him ease her pain…

“Yes,” she whispered, need overriding caution. “Please, just make it stop.”

Without hesitation, she tugged her sleeping shift over her head, leaving only spidae silk undergarments clinging to her damp skin. Even these felt like torture against her hypersensitive flesh, but some vestige of Earth modesty prevented her from discarding them.

She would if he’d requested, trusting he knew what was best for her.

If her near-nakedness shocked him, Ignis revealed nothing. Why would he? His people had little use for clothing, save for the enchanted mask he’d worn when they first met.

His expression remained carefully neutral as he uncorked the vial, pouring a measure of the shimmering liquid into his scaled palm. The scent filled the chamber—mountain herbs, winter wind, and something otherworldly that defied description.

“This may feel cold at first,” he warned, approaching her with predatory grace that belied his massive form. “But it should swiftly ease your pain, for it’s made from the waters of one of the few moonwells scattered about Artania.”

The first touch of his hand against her shoulder sent lightning through her veins. Sora gasped, eyes fluttering closed as blessed relief flooded through burning skin. His taloned fingers moved with unexpected gentleness, spreading the salve across patches of silver scales with meticulous precision.

“Better?” he murmured, voice dropping lower as he worked the healing liquid into her skin. “Or should I call for a healer?”

“Yes,” she breathed, leaning into his touch without conscious thought. “No need to summon a healer. You’re doing well on your own.”

He moved behind her, strong hands tracing the line of emerging scales along her spine. Each caress spread cooling relief in its wake, yet simultaneously kindled something deeper, more primal. His palms glided over her shoulder blades, where the densest clusters of scales had formed overnight, tracing patterns as though reading ancient script written in her skin.

“These follow the celestial formation of the Dragon Mother,” he observed, voice reverent. “Precisely as the prophecy foretold.”

Sora should have bristled at the mention of prophecy, at being reduced to cosmic design rather than individual choice. Instead, she found herself arching into his touch, craving more of the relief his hands provided.

Or perhaps it wasn’t just relief she sought.

His chest rumbled with approval as she leaned back against him, her head resting against his scaled shoulder. Heat radiating from his body contrasted with the cooling balm—somehow not bothersome, but comforting—creating a sensation that hovered at the edge between pleasure and pain.

“These,” he continued, fingers tracing the delicate scales forming at her hips, “mark you as royalty among dragonkind. The pattern is unmistakable.”

His hands worked lower, spreading the healing liquid across her thighs where scales shimmered beneath skin still mostly human. Every touch felt like electricity, like awakening, like coming home to a place she’d never known she belonged.

When his fingers brushed the sensitive skin behind her knee, Sora couldn’t suppress a soft moan. Ignis stilled instantly, his breath warm against her neck.

“I’ve overstepped,” he whispered, starting to withdraw.

“No.” She caught his wrist, surprising herself with the swiftness of her reaction. “It helps. Please don’t stop.”

He continued his ministrations, each touch carefully controlled despite the tension she sensed building within him. His scent intensified—smoky and intoxicating. It wrapped around her like invisible wings—feeling how safe she did shielded under his before—heightening every sensation.

“Turn,” he instructed softly.

Sora complied, suddenly face-to-face with him. The crimson of his eyes had darkened, pupils expanded until only a thin ring of burning scarlet remained. She watched his gaze track the silvery scales spreading across her collarbone, trailing between her breasts, disappearing beneath the silk that barely covered her.

“Your transformation progresses faster than I anticipated,” he observed, voice deeper than before. “The emergence should complete within days, not weeks.”

“And then what?” she asked, leaning forward until bare millimeters separated them. “What happens when I’ve fully changed?”

His taloned fingers froze against her ribcage. “Then you choose. Where and how to live.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And your alpha, if you desire one.”

The possessive hunger in his gaze contradicted his words. Every line of his powerful body screamed claim, possess, mine.

In truth, she knew she should be afraid—for they were alone and he was much more powerful than her—both in strength and position. If she were on Earth, she knew she would… have to protect oneself from unwanted male attention. But she wasn’t there, she was on Artania, with someone who’d had nothing but respect for her, regardless of what her kind—here—had done to his people.

Ignis stood, watching her, maintaining that careful distance, that deliberate restraint, allowing her the freedom to decide.

Something deep within her responded to that restraint more powerfully than any declaration could have. He wanted—oh, how he wanted—yet he waited for her choice.

Taking her silence as a reply, his fingers resumed their work, spreading cooling balm across her abdomen where the itching had been fiercest. The relief was immediate, yet paradoxically, her body now burned with a different kind of need. Each caress kindled awareness that had nothing to do with discomfort and everything to do with desire.

When he finished, Sora felt simultaneously better and worse. The maddening itch had subsided, replaced by an emptiness that tugged at her core and slick between her legs, that wasn’t from the balm he’d spread there.

“Thank you,” she managed, rubbing her shaking hands all over her arms, to feel how smooth and cool they’d become. “I thought I was going mad.”

“You should dress,” he said, his voice tight as he stepped away. “Ember expects you for training sometime.” His wings shifted restlessly against his back as he recorked the vial. “Though I intend to test your abilities first after the morning meal, before I hand you off to her.”

“Test me?” She pulled the sleeping shift over her head. “How? Why?”

A smile curled the edge of his mouth, revealing the hint of sharpened teeth. “I need to know what my most precious treasure is capable of before allowing my delta guard the honor of training you.”

Heat that had nothing to do with her transformation rushed to her cheeks. “I’m not a warrior. On Earth, I was a scholar.”

“You’re whatever you choose to be,” he corrected, moving toward the door. “And here, knowledge alone won’t protect you. The royal family won’t rest until they’ve captured—or worse, killed—what they believe threatens their power.”

The memory of Princess Jewels’ calculating eyes at the Selection Ball flashed through Sora’s mind, followed by the horrifying accounts of omega essence harvesting. A shiver traced her spine despite the chamber’s comfortable warmth.

“I’ll be ready,” she promised, though uncertainty coiled in her stomach. She’d never fought anyone in her life, other than the dairy cows at her family’s farm.

But that was many years ago—a whole different life than the one she had here—in a body of a royal maid.

Ignis nodded, crimson gaze lingering on her. “I have no doubt.”

* * *

Morning light filtered through crystal veins running through the cavern’s upper reaches, casting rainbow patterns across the training grounds carved from living stone. Glowstones scattered around the space cast an ethereal glow, softening the area farther—clashing with the deadly seriousness it was meant to hold.

Sora circled cautiously, keenly aware of Ignis’s predatory grace as he matched her movements with fluid precision.

“Focus,” he instructed, taloned hands held in loose approximation of human fighting stance. “Your opponent will exploit any distraction.”

Easy for him to say.

Each time he moved, muscles rippled beneath ruby scales, wings shifting with perfect balance. Everything about him radiated controlled power—beautiful and lethal. Her eyes kept tracking to the curve of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders, the intensity of his gaze.

The training garments Zalaya had provided—form-fitting trousers and a sleeveless tunic made from some strange material that clung snuggly on her, but didn’t restrain her movement—offered surprising freedom. Silver scales now permanently adorned her forearms and traced delicate patterns across her collarbones, catching light as she moved.

“Your stance is too rigid.” Ignis circled closer. “Dragons fight with fluidity, not mechanical precision.”

“I told you I’m not a warrior,” she reminded him, mirroring his movements with growing frustration. “In my world, historians and researchers don’t typically engage in combat training.”

“In this world, everyone knows basic self-defense.” He lunged suddenly, reaching for her shoulders.

Instinct kicked in before conscious thought. Sora twisted beneath his grasp, body moving with surprising grace as she ducked under his arm. The maneuver felt distantly familiar, as though recalled from another life. The baker’s daughter’s body remembering what her Earth-born mind had never learned.

Ignis’s crimson eyes gleamed with approval. “Better. Your body knows more than your mind admits.”

But why would the other Sora—the real royal maid—know how to react?

They continued circling, a dance of advance and retreat. Sora found herself anticipating his movements, reading subtle tells in the shift of his weight, the tension in his wings. Each time they made contact—his hand on her wrist, her palm against his scaled forearm—electricity sparked between them.

“You’re holding back,” she accused after successfully evading a series of controlled attacks. “Fighting like you’re afraid to hurt me.”

Something dangerous flickered across his expression. “I am.”

“I can’t learn if you treat me like glass.” Heat flared beneath her skin, fueling her newfound confidence. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“You’ve no idea what you’re asking,” he warned, but his wings flared slightly, betraying interest. “Dragon combat training isn’t gentle.”

“Neither are royal guards with omega-poisoned weapons.” She raised her chin in challenge. “Show me what I’m facing.”

For a moment, she thought he’d refuse. Then his posture shifted, power unfurling like a banner as he launched into motion. The attack came faster than before, less telegraphed, more fluid—like a predator no longer playing with his prey.

Sora barely evaded the first sweep of his arm, heart pounding, breath sharp, body reacting faster than thought.

They moved together as though choreographed, attack and defense blending into continuous motion. Each time his scales brushed her skin, awareness sharpened. His scent—midnight stone and ancient fire—wrapped around her, simultaneously disorienting and focusing.

And yet, each of his marks upon her skin left no trace of blood.

Taloned fingers closed around her wrist, tugging her off-balance. Sora twisted, using his momentum to slide within his guard. Her back pressed against his chest, his arm locked around her waist. Heat radiated from his body, seeping through her training clothes.

“Caught,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Now how are you going to escape?”

Something molten pooled low in her abdomen. The dragon blood in her veins sang with recognition, with awareness more profound than mere attraction. Every nerve ending where their bodies touched seemed to ignite.

It was a dangerous game they were playing… and still, some part of her ached to fall into temptation. Throwing caution to the wind, giving in to what he wanted from her… needed from her.

“What would you do now?” she challenged, voice emerging huskier than intended.

His arm tightened fractionally around her waist. “That depends on whether I meant to kill or capture.”

“And which is it?”

The rumble in his chest vibrated against her back. “Neither. What I want from you requires willing surrender, not dominance.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with fear. For a heartbeat, Sora allowed herself to imagine it—surrendering to the pull between them, exploring the heat that kindled whenever they touched.

Then reality reasserted itself.

How could she be with a dragon?

“Let’s try again,” she said, pulling away before temptation overwhelmed reason.

They resumed their sparring dance, each exchange growing more intense. Sora found herself adapting with surprising speed, body responding to challenges with increasing confidence. More alarming was how natural it felt—this lethal choreography, this intimate battle.

Almost like a mating dance between two potential partners…

Ignis moved with liquid grace despite his formidable form, each attack precise yet controlled. When she successfully countered a complex maneuver, satisfaction gleamed in his crimson eyes.

“You learn quickly,” he noted, circling her with predatory focus. “I was right. Your body remembers what your mind has forgotten.”

“But how can I do this?” She blocked his downward strike, twisting to create distance between them. “I’ve never fought like this before.”

“Perhaps not in this lifetime.” His wings shifted with the subtle redistribution of weight that she now recognized preceded an attack. “But you have dragon blood within you.”

Before she could respond, he lunged—faster than before, deadly grace unleashed in controlled aggression. Sora’s newly heightened reflexes barely saved her from being pinned against the stone wall. She ducked beneath his arm, pivoted, and found herself pressed against his chest.

Time suspended. Her palms splayed against golden scales that burned beneath her touch. His heartbeat—slower, stronger than human—pulsed against her fingers. Dragon fire and ancient stone enveloped her senses, his scent obliterating rational thought.

His head dipped lower, breath caressing her cheek. “Your scent changes when we fight.”

“Does it?” The words emerged breathless, barely audible.

“Sweeter. Headier.” His taloned fingers traced her jawline with exquisite gentleness. “Like moonflowers in bloom.”

The training grounds receded, awareness narrowing to the infinitesimal space between them. His pupils expanded, crimson irises reduced to burning rings around absolute darkness.

She felt herself leaning closer, guided by something deeper than thought.

Their lips nearly touched, heat building between bodies now perfectly aligned. His wings unfurled partially, creating a cocoon of privacy in the otherwise open training area.

“Ignis,” she whispered, uncertain whether she meant to encourage or warn.

The tension between them pulled taut, possibility hovering in the breath they shared. His restraint was tangible, a force of will she felt rather than saw. Choice. He kept giving her choice when every line of his powerful body screamed to claim her.

She’d read how alphas treated omegas—at least human—as property, claiming them—forcing the bond—especially when the omega was in heat.

And yet, he’d rescued her and given her the freedom to roam his caverns… while he hovered, he also cared for her—about her.

Something about that deliberate control, that respect for her autonomy despite his obvious desire, affected her more profoundly than any display of dominance could have.

A throat cleared loudly nearby.

Reality crashed back with jarring abruptness. Sora stepped back, heat flooding her cheeks as Ember approached, amber eyes gleaming with undisguised amusement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” the delta guard said, scarred lip curling into a knowing smile. “Though from the scent of things, perhaps I am.”

Ignis’s wings retracted with deliberate slowness, his expression revealing nothing, but his eyes betrayed him. “Perfect timing. We’ve just completed initial assessment.”

“And?” Ember eyed Sora with renewed interest. “Does she meet your exacting standards, my king?”

“She exceeds them.” The pride in his voice sent warmth spreading through Sora’s chest. “Her reflexes are extraordinary for one so newly awakened.”

Ember circled Sora with the critical eye of a seasoned warrior. “Let’s see what she’s made of, then.” The delta guard’s scarred face betrayed nothing, but her voice promised a very different kind of lesson.

“Another time.” Ignis stepped between them, his hulking form casting shadows over her. Ruby scales caught the morning light filtering through crystal veins overhead, transforming him into a living flame. “We’ve trained since dawn, and the council meets after the midday meal.”

Ember’s face registered surprise before settling into grudging acceptance. “As you wish, my king.” Her amber eyes shifted to Sora, assessing. “Tomorrow, then. Same hour. We’ll see if your reflexes can handle me.”

The words carried challenge rather than insult, a warrior’s acknowledgment that warranted testing. Sora straightened despite muscles that now trembled with exertion, meeting the delta guard’s gaze directly.

“I’ll be ready,” she promised, though uncertainty flickered beneath her bravado. She mustn’t show any weakness—not now—not when she needed to prove herself to his clan. She knew Ember was close to Ignis, and hoped by winning her over, she might find herself another ally amongst his council.

Ember’s lips curled into a challenging smirk. “We shall see.” With a respectful inclination of her head toward Ignis, she departed, taloned feet clicking against stone the only sound within the training grounds as she disappeared into a side corridor.

Alone again with Ignis, Sora became acutely aware of her physical state—sweat-dampened hair clinging to her neck, training garments adhering to curves now enhanced by rippling scales, breath still coming faster than normal. His crimson gaze tracked these details with predatory focus, wings shifting restlessly against his back.

“You should eat,” he said, voice rougher than before. “Your body requires nourishment to support the transformation.”

“I am hungry,” she admitted, surprised by the hollow ache in her stomach. On Earth, she’d often forgotten meals entirely when absorbed in research. Now her body demanded attention—especially the lack of protein bars and energy drinks.

“The dining hall is always prepared for the clan to come and go, eating at all hours between their duties.” He gestured toward the corridor leading back to the central cavern. “After you’ve refreshed yourself.”

They walked in charged silence, each acutely aware of the other’s proximity. Sora found herself cataloging new sensations—the way her heightened senses detected subtle shifts in his scent when she moved closer. There was a delicious heat that radiated from his scaled half-form like banked coals—that seemingly went along with his smoldering scent of roaring bonfire at midnight. The imperceptible brush of his wing against her shoulder as he loosely wrapped it around her when the corridor narrowed was both oddly comforting—and sent a thrill through her.

The bathing chamber attached to their shared quarters steamed invitingly, crystal-infused water bubbling from underground springs. Ignis paused at the beaded entrance.

“I’ll await you in the dining hall,” he said, every muscle taut with restraint—wings held tightly to his back, and his usually restless tail swaying lazily. “Unless you think you’ll need my help once again.”

“I believe I’ll be alright.” She felt her cheeks burn at the memory of him rushing into the hot spring pool to save her when she’d slipped. “I feel much stronger, regardless of our recent sparring.”

“Reach out if you need me,” he promised, giving her a final nod, his gaze lingering, eyes catching hers before he turned. “I’m only a thought away.”

“Thank you.”

As she sank into the healing waters, Sora wondered how long such restraint could last—and whether she truly wanted it to continue.

The morning’s training had awakened something beyond explanation.

She was slowly believing that everything about Artania was real . It took some time for her mind to wrap around the idea, but all the evidence around her proved that it indeed was.

How else could she explain everything that had happened to her since she’d awakened. Proof was beyond the silver scales now permanently adorning her skin and the two celestial orbs in their lovers’ dance in the sky.

Her sparring match with Ignis had awakened the possibility—that she was indeed a Luna, a special omega brought to Artania by the Moon Goddess herself to fulfill some prophecy.

When she emerged, dressed in silk garments that complemented her, she draped a sheer, exotic robe over her shoulders—one she’d discovered among the trove of treasures scattered throughout their shared room that matched Ignis’s ruby and gold scales. He had no use for such a garment, and there was a small voice in the back of her head that wondered how he’d react to her boldness.

The dining hall awaited with platters of unfamiliar delicacies. Ignis rose as she entered, a gesture that spoke of respect rather than protocol. The others in the room bowed their heads and lifted their goblets in greeting.

His sharp crimson gaze traced the silver scales now visible at her temples, the pattern emerging along her collarbones where her gown dipped low.

“The council will be pleased with your progress,” he observed, seating her beside him rather than across the table. The intimacy of the arrangement wasn’t lost on her—nor was the possessive edge to his attentiveness.

The gentle wrap of his tail greeted her as she sat, but his wings held tight to his back, denying her the closeness she craved—the lack of embrace made her ache with want.

Why am I drawn to him—so strongly, so suddenly?

“Will they?” She selected fruits whose iridescent skins matched the crystal formations throughout the mountain—reminiscent of fruit snacks back on Earth. “I’ve done nothing but avoid being pinned during training.”

“You’re underestimating yourself—you’re stronger than you think and capable of so much more,” he countered, wings shifting to create a partial cocoon around their shared space. “You have no idea how much you’re actually worth… and each day your presence aligns more perfectly with prophecy.”

“What do you see when you look at me?” The question emerged unbidden, vulnerability wrapped in directness.

Ignis went still. For a heartbeat, she thought he might deflect with diplomatic vagueness and tales of destiny. Instead, his gaze locked with hers, burning with unexpected honesty.

“I see what I have searched for all my life,” he said, voice dropping to a register that sent shivers racing across her skin. “Not merely omega to my alpha or vessel of prophecy, but balance—intelligence matched with instinct, strength with compassion, knowledge with wonder.” His taloned fingers rested millimeters from hers on the table’s surface. “I see my equal. My complement. My...”

He froze, jaw tightening as the storm behind his eyes dimmed.

“Your what?” she pressed, heart racing with dangerous curiosity.

His pupils expanded, crimson irises mere rings around absolute darkness. “My mate ,” he admitted, the words carrying the weight of confession. “Though that choice remains entirely yours .”

The honesty in his declaration stole her breath. This wasn’t diplomatic courtesy or calculated seduction. This was truth, laid bare despite the vulnerability it revealed.

Before she could respond, a sentinel appeared at the dining hall’s entrance.

“My king,” he announced, bowing deeply. “The council awaits.”

Ignis remained motionless for a moment longer, gaze locked with hers, something unspoken passing between them. Then he sighed, the intimate cocoon dissolving as he rose.

“We continue this conversation later,” he promised, offering his hand to assist her rise. “At another time.”

She nodded and accepted his hand. “I will make sure of it.”

He responded with a deep dark chuckle and shook his head.

As they walked toward the council chamber, Sora found herself wondering which posed greater danger—the approaching conflict with Celestoria’s forces or the inevitable collision between duty and desire that awaited her.

And the few thoughts of Earth drifted through her mind like smoke—familiar, distant, impossible to grasp—it felt more like a memory than a desire to return to.

Boundaries had indeed been tested. And soon, she suspected, they would shatter entirely.

Deep down, she knew she was starting to fall for this dragon king…