Page 22

ZARVASH

The door shuddered as I slammed it, the frame quivering with the violence coiled under my restraint. Bolt drawn, one more fragile barrier pressed between the city’s threats and my fraying composure.

We’d slipped past the guards and whatever trouble they brought.

Poison burned along my nerves, my injured wing a dull throb with every movement.

But then there was that memory. The dark haze of a thought that was trying to surface as my body healed.

Her, pressed next to a crimson scaled brute of a warrior.

Who was he? Why?

Vega was already at the window, scanning the alley with a warrior's vigilance, wild hair framing a face cut sharp with adrenaline.

Dust smeared her brow, sweat glazed her skin, and beneath the scent of fear twined that heady, familiar part of her that made me yearn, brighter, sharper in the aftermath of danger.

I couldn’t bury the question any longer. “How did you find the healer?” My voice came out grating, too harsh. Every muscle in me strained against the urge to pace, caged, unworthy, half-mad with feelings I could not voice.

She shot me a look that would have skinned a lesser creature.

“A Drakarn named Omvar knew her. He seems …

I don't know if I'd call it nice, but a possible ally.

He protected one of the humans at the feast from a handsy asshole.

But he tried to stop me from snooping in the arena.

I don't know if it was out of a misguided sense of helping or if he didn't like the sight of me.

You needed a healer, and it wasn't like I could ask Skorai. I took a chance.”

A spike of jealousy shredded my restraint.

My claws curled tight. “You trusted a champion of Ignarath?” My tail lashed once, a warning pulse through the room and through me.

Even now, something heated deep in my skin, a reflex as old as the clan wars, rage and longing twisted together whenever I imagined another’s scent on her skin.

She shrugged, all play and provocation. “Did you expect me to turn down help because he’s taller than you?”

A snarl rumbled up from somewhere deep, unbidden. Instincts strained beneath my skin: mark her, shield her, drive off rivals, never let her forget who she belonged to.

My wings flexed, tail flicking, pain be damned.

There was a feral spark in her eyes that told me she saw everything. “Is that it? Are you …? You can't be jealous.”

Her words needled deeper than I wanted to admit. I prowled closer, closing the space between us until there was nothing but a breath. “I’d tear the heart from any Drakarn fool enough to try harming you.” My voice ran ragged, an oath and a plea all tangled up together.

Her eyes glinted, bright with hunger and something almost uncertain. “Why? I'm just …”

I halted, letting my shadow spill across her. My fangs throbbed, tongue prickling with the sharp taste of her want, and under all the fury, need lurked, swift and dizzying.

“Just? You are just nothing.” My words rasped raw. All I wanted was to prove my claim, but also, by the Forge I wanted to ask for hers, to see myself reflected in the heat of her gaze. “Do you want to see how far I’d go if another male dared touch you?”

Her bravado flickered. “Why?” she asked again.

Her word hit with the force of a storm, stripping my soul to unvarnished want. The shell of jealousy splintered, spilling out pride, anger, fear, and most of all longing so sharp it made my scales ache. My cock filled, heat leaking out, scenting the air, begging for sanctuary, and drinking her in.

I caught her wrist, careful with my claws, determined, reverent. I turned her palm upward, searching for the frantic flutter of her pulse, and dragged a line with my claw from wrist to the tender crook of her elbow.

Just a whisper of touch, a promise.

A plea.

She trembled beneath my hand, breath stuttered.

On impulse, I dropped to one knee, pressing my nose into the hollow there, letting her fill my lungs, dirt and iron, fear, defiance, but at the very heart, the wild honey-bright warmth that was only her.

I licked her skin through a tear in her tunic, a trail of heated devotion, willing her to taste the words I could not utter aloud.

She gasped, hips arching toward me. “Zarvash?—”

My vow was a snarl against her flesh. “I would raze the arena to dust, rip every champion apart to keep you safe. For a single mark upon you, I would burn every stone in this cursed city.”

She tilted her chin, a warrior’s challenge, and the most fragile surrender. “Prove it, then.”

Her want was a dare. Every battle faded, leaving only us, bonded by wounds, by desire, by all that had not yet been spoken.

I lifted her, cradling her thighs around my waist, and carried her to the battered sleeping platform. She laughed, wild and bright with the kind of joy born from mortal danger and hard-won trust, the kind of laughter that braided hope into the marrow of my bones.

I eased her onto the rough bedding, following with a knee between her thighs.

My tail wound around her ankle, not claiming, but promising, my strength was hers, my body a bulwark against the world’s cruelties.

My cock ached, glands pulsing and heating.

The musky perfume of Drakarn want hung like incense, more than claim: this was a prayer.

I tore at my tunic, claws slipping in urgency, the ache of wounds replaced by a sweeter agony. She wrestled with stubborn knots and grimy fastenings, her hands skimming my scars, her touch a challenge and comfort. Survival had left its marks on us.

She tossed aside her tunic, shoulders bare and dusted with freckles, every faded scar a story of strength. I nearly reeled at the sight. Her body was beautiful and flawed, more gorgeous than any star-strewn sky, closer than blood.

She shed her trousers until only a battered scrap of underwear hid the sweetest secret of her form. She met my stare, daring, trembling, radiant. Without breaking eye contact, she drew the final garment down, baring herself utterly.

“Is there anything here you want?” she taunted softly.

I knelt, overcome. “Everything.”

I straddled her, bronze scales against delicate human skin. Her hands mapped my chest, tracing the old wounds, the new lines written atop them. I pressed my face to her throat, inhaling where her pulse thudded wild.

I let hunger rise in my voice, truth and worship entwined. “ Veshari .”

My cock brushed her thigh, painting her skin with the sharp, smoky essence of my longing. I let myself scentmark her hips, her belly, the tender skin below her ribs because to deny that urge would rip me in half.

She arched, grinding up, inviting more, the crown of my cock sliding through slick heat, separated only by bravado and the hush between heartbeats. “If you want me, fucking take me.”

Her challenge undid me.

With a flick of my tail, I coaxed her knees apart, circling under to cradle her hips, lifting her open. She watched me, unafraid, every inch offering itself for worship.

I pressed my cock, the scales of its root, the barely yielding tip, along her folds, letting my musk mingle with her own.

At the tip, the sensitive lip rippled of its own will, caressing her enough for us both to gasp.

But I pulled back. It wasn't time for that yet. Not when I needed the taste of her.

“Let me see you.” My voice was gruff as I nuzzled lower, dragging my tongue down the soft line of her stomach. “You carry the taste of battle, and you are so very ready for me.”

She set her jaw, almost insolent, vulnerable. “Is it enough for you?”

I let my grin flash, a warrior’s confidence, a lover’s awe. “It is more than enough.”

I parted her further, savoring how every pulse spoke of trust. My tongue, broad and hot, drew a slow line up her most sensitive seam. She bucked, shivered, hands flying to my head, grasping for horns I no longer had, clutching my hair instead.

My tail pressed against her, teasing the entrance, flicking and pulling at her clit and inner heat all at once. She writhed, a holy storm of need and delight, but never sought to flee.

“What— What are you—?” she gasped.

I rumbled my assurance into her flesh. My tail pulsed within, stroking with intoxicating precision, while my tongue danced in counterpoint.

Her thighs pressed my head, body bowing from the bed in shock. Pressure built between us, fury and gentleness entwined, until she shattered around my mouth, sobbing my name. It was a song of victory and surrender.

Still, I lapped at her, drawing every last aftershock forth until her hands, frantic, batted at my shoulders. “Enough. Zarvash—don’t. I need. God, let me breathe.”

I looked up, triumphant and humbled by her sweetness. My chin and jaw gleamed with her pleasure; my cock was a column of fire against her thigh.

She pulled me up, her mouth fierce, lips devouring the last traces of her taste from me.

She was wild now, wanton, her grip on me urgent and sure.

My shaft throbbed against her belly. Her hands explored, fingertips a delight as they traced scales, ridges, veins.

Her thumb stroked the lip at the tip, drawing out another string of hot, heady slick, tasting me with every pass.

“You are fucking amazing,” she murmured, hunger and awe blending. “I want to know you’re real.”

She pressed me down, taking her place above me for a moment, testing both her power and my trust. Her tongue ran the length of my throbbing cock, and as she drew the crown into her mouth, the lip caressed her in turn, a wordless exchange, my gift for hers.

I trembled, tail flailing against bedding, claws scraping for anchor. “Keep that, and I will fall, veshari .”

She paused, wicked satisfaction softening her smile. “Do you want me to stop?”

“If you leave me wanting, I will never forgive you.”

She drew me deeper, savoring, until my control frayed. I caught her hand, not to stop her, but to save some last remnant of self.

She tasted victory and let me pull her astride me, straddling my waist, her hair wild, her eyes molten and inescapable.

She angled me to her center, the lip at my tip stroking, beckoning, pledging. I steadied her hips, guiding without force, letting her take as much as her body would allow. Inch by slow inch she sank over me, a sacred joining—her velvet heat stretched, enfolded me, claimed me in return.

“Oh, God—” Her words dissolved in sighs.

I thrust gently, fighting the wildfire urge to lose myself, savoring her every wince and whimper, her pleasure-twisted features the most beautiful sight in all the world. The lip at my crown swirled within, stroking secret spots, coaxing more pleasure, coaxing more love.

She braced above me, riding slowly, her hands splayed on my chest, fighting for every ounce of control as desire warred with need. I caught her gaze, refusing to let this be anything less than truth.

“Say it,” I begged, hardly more than a breath, not sure what I was truly asking.

She met me, spirit unbroken, pleasure blazing fierce as any flame. “Yes, please, cum in me. I need you.”

Her words broke me. I surged up, hips meeting hers in a rhythm older than stone, cock jerking as her body clenched, surrendering to release once more. My tail circled her waist, drawing her closer, grounding us both in the holy tangle of flesh and longing and hope.

Her climax tore her name from my lips, a raw, wordless roar. I spilled into her, thick and unrestrained, marking her at every level, body and soul, our scents knitted now and forever in the air around us.

We held, trembling, my tail refusing to let her go, body shuddering with every aftershock. Her sweat streaked my scales, and her scent became my sanctuary.

Eventually, she eased off, collapsing at my side, thighs marked by our joining, stomach glittering with all we’d spent. I watched my claim seep into her skin, not a brand of dominance, but the most fragile, sacred contract, hers as much as mine.

I gathered her in, pressing my lips to her temple, breathing her in, sharing all that was fierce and all that was soft. “You are a danger I would face a thousand times,” I murmured, “and I would choose you. Always.”

Beyond the door, darkness lurked, echoes of shouts, the press of duty, and the arena’s bloody challenges. But here, wreathed in the scent and heat of our union, there was only this fragile, precious hour.

I cleaned the last traces from her skin with my tongue, savoring the taste of us, the way she shivered gently in my hold. When I wrapped my tail around her, it was not to claim, but to shield, to cradle all of her, for as long as fate allowed.

Her fingers twined through mine, silent, but so much passing between us.

Bond-words hovered, unspoken, on my tongue, in the echoing fullness of my heart. Not yet. But I would speak them.

Soon.