Page 4 of Court of Embers (Dragonesse #2)

His teeth had lengthened, nipping at my flesh just shy of drawing blood. He moved his hips, sliding his cock forward through my slick folds, teasing me with little bursts of bliss.

Rhylan—

Quiet. Unless you’re screaming from pleasure, you have nothing to say right now.

What if I beg?

He paused, looking at me with a flame-red eye. I suppose you may beg.

I let out a breathy laugh, squirming against him. Please fuck me, Rhylan. Please fill me up and make me your—

He growled, a low, rumbling sound that made my nipples harden, and then the crown of his cock was at my entrance.

My dragon pushed in, slowly at first, but his self-control was wavering. He was black with scales from head to toe, his teeth sharp, his eyes glistening with flames. The hands gripping my wrists were clawed; even his length had thickened as he struggled to contain himself.

More , I demanded, wriggling upwards to take another few inches. Make me yours. Do it now.

I was not so immune to the needs of the bond as I thought. Conscious thought was starting to become blurry; I felt the touch of his mind, his own sensations, the pulsing of his cock buried in my wet pussy, the lithe muscles of my body fighting against him, to no avail.

I needed to be claimed by the dragon to make the bond whole.

And he felt my senses, the aching need in my center, the sensation of being filled and teased.

He thrust hard, drawing a gasp and then a sharp cry from me. It was less like sex than a war, a brutal, thrusting claim of a mate, both of us fighting to go harder, deeper, as close as we could come to being one instead of two.

And midway through, the tone changed, as Rhylan pushed me onto my stomach and mounted me from behind. He stretched over me, brushing away my hair, his lips moving over my shoulders as he thrust in slow and deep.

Rhylan . My legs were quivering, and I clutched his taloned hands, pushing myself back onto him. Every muscle was sore, but it was a good kind of sore, like I’d been wrung out of everything that brought me doubt or fear.

His cock slid deeper, deeper…and then he hit a spot inside me that made me tense up, fighting off the inevitable.

This is mine , he whispered in my mind, but it wasn’t entirely Rhylan’s voice. It was the dragon in him, the possessive beast.

I screamed as he slipped a hand over my mouth, muffling the sound, bucking wildly onto him. The heat in my core exploded, filling my mind with white fire, sizzling through my veins.

Rhylan grunted, meeting my violence with his own, and I felt cock pulse before he released a hot flood of seed deep inside me.

We lay in a tangle of limbs, breathing hard, and Rhylan stroked my face, my shoulders, my back. His thoughts were satisfied, tinged with craving, entirely covetous.

The dragon in him was content…but only for now.

I watched the flames dance towards the ceiling, curled up on my side on the blanket, Rhylan curled around my back possessively.

He too was watching the fire; when I focused on his thoughts, it was like having double-vision. He stroked me from head to shoulder, dipping down my waist to my hip, a hypnotic rhythm that never faltered in its slow pace.

We’d dragged the saddle under the cover of the trees, and brought in our supplies, followed by a quick wash in the river to rinse Asura’s blood from my hair.

A quickly roasted rabbit had fed us, followed by another bout of sudden lust, and we collapsed in front of our small fire, stripped of leathers, reveling in each other’s forms.

The bond was clear and strong. I’d heard stories about mate bonds gone horribly wrong.

In the case of an unwilling draga: the dragon usurping her mind, her will, and her desires with his own—just as I’d feared happening on Mistward Isle, being raped into a mate bond and becoming the puppet of Kalros.

Or, in the case of bonds that weren’t particularly strong or driven at their inception, and not being strengthened immediately, they could become a wavering connection, the mind-speech more of a liability than a true alliance.

The pairs in this situation often weren’t suited for the defense of eyries; they generally found work instead alongside the Bloodless of any given eyrie, avoiding dangerous flight.

It wasn’t entirely common for these things to happen.

Most bonds were formed perfectly well enough to fly, but any mated pair knew that the stronger the connection, the easier the mind-speech.

Without actively thinking, I could perceive not only Rhylan’s thoughts, but his senses, a constant mental feedback in the background of my own perceptions.

The choice to stop and camp for the night had been the right call. It hadn’t been worth risking a weaker bond just to make it home, and Rhylan had finally calmed, his rage no longer driving him. He was possessive, defensive, but serene.

You’re thinking entirely too much , he said, tightening his grip around my waist. What happened to being limp and utterly obliterated?

Definitely still limp . I stretched out, pointing my toes and feeling a cramp rising in my calves before relaxing.

Rhylan was quiet for a moment, tickling his fingers over my hip, and then he said, I don’t want to ruin this, but…tell me about Yura.

I knew I should’ve told you before . I couldn’t hold the bitter tinge away from my mental voice. I thought it wasn’t the right time, after what happened to Kirana. I thought it could wait until after the meeting. I only wanted to give you a few hours of peace.

I’m not blaming you . He nuzzled the back of my neck, pressing a kiss right on my nape. Hells, you were just thinking about me.

I was always thinking of you.

Well, now I know that. I’m glad I’ve finally got proof I got into your head. But as soon as we land at home, we’re going to be launched right back into defending our claims. I want to know everything, so I’m ready to back you up.

All right. I closed my eyes, blocking out the flames. This is what happened…before. In the Training Grounds.

And instead of using words, I shared my memory, down the senses.

Rhylan shuddered, and I knew he was feeling what I had felt: the creeping sense of being hunted, transmuting into the terror of prey; the brambles lashing at my arms and legs, the sharp pain of teeth in my throat.

Feeling those things as though they were his own.

Gods.

I blocked it out entirely, until that night at the tarn . My fingers wriggled upwards, touching the smooth scar on my throat. I’ve never been that afraid in my life. Not even on Mistward. It wasn’t like facing another draga, or even a dragon. Nothing like Kalros.

The red dragon’s face flashed in my mind, and Rhylan drew his breath with a hiss, scales creeping over his skin.

It was like… I bit my lip, afraid to say it.

You can say it. I won’t judge you.

It was like…what my history tutor in Varyamar described as a Primoris.

Indescribable terror. Madness you could only experience, and never explain .

I bit my lip harder, worrying it until I tasted a faint trace of blood.

That’s what I felt that night. And when she spoke to me at the tarn. Absolute, unreasoning terror.

Stop that . Rhylan brushed a thumb over my lips, and I released it, forcing my jaw to relax.

But she’s a draga, not some unspeakable monstrosity.

I can only suppose that it’s the eating of flesh that gives me that reaction, but…

I’m quite sure some of the dragons on Mistward also ate the weak, in order to stay alive.

And I’d never felt that same kind of prey terror there.

It’s…an entirely different level of fear.

I had taunted Kalros about his House, even though I had blocked out my own memories of experiencing that. He’d even asked me… have you ever seen a Primoris, little draga? Do you have any idea what it’s like?

I didn’t. And yet, I couldn’t envision a terror beyond what I’d felt when Yura hunted me. How would anyone survive it? Their hearts would simply burst in their chests.

So. We know she’s a draga. Definitely Nasir’s daughter? Rhylan asked.

I nodded. Aerona was his only other mistress. And there’s no doubt we share similar bone structure.

You look nothing alike , Rhylan said with a mental snort. But she is a flesh-eater. And that means, maybe, that she’s taken it a step further.

What’s ‘further’ than committing the most egregious of crimes? I asked dryly.

Maybe she worships the Outsider. Ustrael. Some dragons used to. There was a whole sect dedicated to her.

I turned a little, meeting his eyes, and he rubbed the little lines that had furrowed between my brows.

How long ago would that sect have died out? I demanded . A few millennia, at least. Before Dragonesse Areti, and she was alive, what…five thousand years ago? Any House caught with an affiliation for the Outsider’s worship would’ve been annihilated without a second chance.

He lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. My family in the Wildlands have seen some insane things. Just because it’s forbidden in Akalla, doesn’t mean it’s forbidden everywhere. There are no Houses, no Laws in the Wildlands to enforce it.

True enough. And Talariel Eyrie, the home of the Gilded Skies, was far to the south…only a small sea away from the Wildlands. A hop and a skip from total freedom.

So your sister is a flesh-eater, and she gives you a reaction you’d expect from the Primoris. Maybe she’s just…very, very close to Ustrael. A dedicated worshipper. If we can be touched by Larivor’s wind and Naimah’s fire, why not Ustrael’s hunger?

Stop saying her name.

I’m thinking it.

Rhylan .

He chuckled, but held me a little tighter. Sorry. But that could be the edge we need. If there is a sect dedicated to the Outsider, there might be a temple or shrine. A physical location, with proof of…of their worship.

His mind stuttered inside mine, the word ‘worship’ overlaid with thoughts pushing up from below.

Images of corpses, skin peeled from flesh, a flash of a face that looked like Kirana’s, followed by mine…and his fear was beneath it all, a sickening sea.

We won’t let her near them , I said fiercely. Never again.

Not just her, but you , he said, actively pushing the thoughts away. If I found you the way Yura had left her…I would never come back from what I’d become.

He gripped my hand, interlacing our fingers, and I squeezed him as tight as I could.

Don’t worry about it now. What we’ll do instead is focus on getting that proof. Maybe your eyrie has something in the library about Outsider worship, or a location…I’d take anything, any breadcrumb to lead us. Even Myst or Erebos might know something .

I was leaning toward asking Myst after what she had shared…the scent she caught on the wind, that filled her with fear—

“ What? ” Rhylan asked, sitting upright, and I winced.

“I was getting to that part,” I said, trying not to sound peevish. “I got sidetracked by sharing my memories and conjecturing on the likelihood of a shrine being within reasonable reach—”

“Don’t use words like ‘conjecturing’ while we’re arguing.” Rhylan rolled me onto my back, laying back on his side and placing his hand flat between my breasts. He gazed down at me lovingly, though I felt a tendril of frustration from him.

“We’re not arguing. Now be quiet and listen.”

I shared my memory of Myst and her worries, and though the loving look never left Rhylan’s eyes, his face became grave.

“Gods. So we’re right.” He said it aloud, and I felt in his head that he wanted nothing more than to be wrong. “Either she’s very close to the Outsider, or there is an entire existing sect, and they’ve got access to a Primoris egg…or a live one.”

“Myst said she could be wrong.” I let him feel my own doubt.

Come on, Sera . He pushed damp strands from my cheek. We both know this is more than just Yura eating dragonbloods. Whether it’s a cult, or a Primoris is hatching somewhere in the world…it’s coming.

I know . I heaved a sigh, staring up at the smoke-blackened cave ceiling.

But the burden of proof is on us, and no one is going to listen until we have it.

And what if it’s too late by then? What if they have an egg, and they hatch a godsdamned newborn Primoris while we’re all divided?

That’s probably exactly what Yura wants, if she’s working on behalf of her patron goddess. Not to mention—

Now it’s my turn to tell you to stay calm. We won’t let that happen.

He cupped my cheek, tilting my face until I was staring directly at him. Gods, that was a sight I’d never get sick of.

“Good to know,” he said, a smug glint in his eye. “But we’ll put a stop to it, one step at a time.”

“How?” I whispered. “It was bad enough telling them she’s a flesh-eater. Now we need to claim there’s a whole sect of worshippers trying to bring back a Primoris?”

“We don’t make those claims. Not yet.” He rubbed my cheek, his voice gentle.

“We’re still conjecturing, right? We have no proof ourselves.

It’s all educated guesses. So we find proof for what we do know, and we go from there.

If we find evidence of a sect, then we can aim for more proof and present our claims. And if Myst or any of the other Ascendants senses one of them rising…

we won’t even need proof, then. Nobody would second-guess the word of an Ascendant.

And if Myst has smelled it, then one of them has to have sensed it, too. ”

You’re right . I briefly closed my eyes. “It all seems like so much. Like an insurmountable task.”

Nothing is insurmountable . He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, a kiss that quickly grew more heated. I won you over, didn’t I?

I grinned despite myself, clutching at the reprieve from my worries and fears as I enfolded him in my arms. “ That’s what makes you think we can win a hopeless cause?”

“Sera.” He laughed against my mouth. “You were an unbelievable pain in the ass about seeing what was right in front of you. I really thought your sheer, stubborn pig-headedness would ruin all my plans.”

Rude , I snarled to him in my mind, and playfully dragged him closer.

He obliged my desires. I’m only telling you, my beautiful, stubborn princess…this bond is proof. Nothing is impossible.