Page 43

With that, the council’s session closes in chaos.

I stand, trembling from adrenaline, as guards attempt to corral the crowd.

Talli and Crick slip closer, relief etched on their faces.

But we’re quickly flanked by watchers, some intrigued, others disgusted.

Vahziryn shields me with his tall frame, ignoring the hateful mutters that swirl.

Despite the rancor, I feel a pulse of victory.

We didn’t let them finalize our doom in secrecy.

By forcing an open tribunal, we give ourselves a fighting chance.

My body quakes with the aftermath of defiance, but Vahziryn’s presence steadies me.

For once, he doesn’t push me away. Instead, his tail tightens around my waist, an unspoken vow that we stand together.

Outside, the city’s daylight stings my eyes.

Guards insist on escorting us, ensuring we don’t vanish.

Talli flanks me with stoic calm, her staff tapping the cobblestones.

Crick hovers behind, scanning for threats.

Vahziryn holds my hand in silent support.

We walk in uneasy formation down the broad steps, watched by throngs of naga, many of whom gossip openly about the “human mother” who dared to speak in the council’s face.

My head throbs with the tension, and nausea stirs again, a reminder of the child that drives me to risk everything.

The guards direct us to a city guest compound, a glorified prison where we can’t easily slip away.

But I cling to the knowledge that in three days, we’ll speak our truth to the entire nest. If the city’s watchers see the council’s cruelty laid bare, perhaps sympathy might shift in our favor.

Once inside the compound’s tall walls, we’re shown to separate quarters—an arrangement that rankles, but I suspect the council wants to keep Vahziryn from me. I glance at him in alarm, but he squeezes my hand, forcing a tight smile. “I’ll find a way to see you. Stay strong.”

Before I can reply, a guard tugs me away.

My heart aches, but I lift my chin and follow.

Talli and Crick are directed to smaller cells on the perimeter, while I’m led to a modest chamber with a barred window.

The guard tosses me a cynical glance, then leaves, locking the door behind him.

My stomach twists with a wave of sickness, but I fight it down.

We’ve come too far to succumb to despair now.

The day passes slowly. I pace the cramped chamber, ignoring the stone cot in the corner.

My thoughts whirl with half-formed arguments for the upcoming tribunal, ways to sway public opinion, or at least shame the council.

Exhaustion weighs on me, but each time I close my eyes, I see the council’s scornful faces.

Night settles. A guard brings stale bread and tepid water.

My appetite is minimal, though the baby’s constant demand for nourishment forces me to nibble.

After hours of fretful tossing, I slump on the cot, tailing a single blanket around my shoulders.

Sleep comes in fits. Vahziryn’s face haunts my dreams, alongside images of a child caught in the council’s claws.

At some point, a muffled scrape at the door startles me awake. I sit up, heart hammering. Then the door creaks open, revealing Vahziryn’s tall form, slipping in with feline grace. He secures the latch behind him, casting me a hushed, urgent look.

“Vahziryn,” I whisper, standing unsteadily. “How did you?—?”

He presses a finger to my lips, tail winding around my hips. “Hush. I paid off a guard. We don’t have long.” His eyes blaze with a desperate light. “I had to see you.”

Relief floods me. I throw my arms around him, face buried in the crook of his neck. The tension of the day dissolves into a wave of yearning. He murmurs my name, voice thick with longing. His tail slides up my spine, and we tangle together in the dim lamplight, savoring this stolen moment.

My breath catches. Despite the heaviness of our predicament, or maybe because of it, I feel an urgent need to reaffirm the bond that’s carried us here. I sense the same spark in his trembling hands, the coil of his tail, the hitch in his breath.

He cups my cheek, eyes flicking to my abdomen. “Are you well? The baby?”

I nod, tears prickling. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

He bends, capturing my lips with a tenderness that melts me.

The kiss deepens swiftly, fueled by the knowledge that any second a guard might disrupt us.

Our desperation collides, and I moan softly, parting my mouth for him.

His tail tightens, pulling me flush to his chest. Heat crackles in the confined space, overshadowing the chill of the stone walls.

He drags me against him, lips trailing down my neck. “I thought I’d lost you to their cruelty,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. “Then you returned, defying the council. How can I ever let go?”

Tears slip down my cheeks, a mix of sorrow and fierce devotion. “You don’t have to,” I whisper, clinging to him. “Not now, not ever.”

In that hush, raw longing takes hold. We have so little time, so many dangers swirling around us.

Yet I crave his touch, the affirmation that we exist beyond the council’s shackles.

My hands slide under his robe, feeling the ridges of black scales.

He exhales a stuttering breath, closing the space between us until our foreheads meet.

“Is it safe for... you, for the baby?” he asks, tail coiling around my leg, unsure.

I nod, cheeks flushing. “Talli said moderate intimacy is safe. And right now, I need you,” I admit, voice quavering. “I need to remember there’s more than fear.”

A low growl resonates in his chest, vibrantly aroused, tail hugging me closer.

His double shafts stir beneath the robes, pressing against my thigh.

A thrilling flutter courses through me, overshadowing the worry.

Gently, I tug his robe open, letting my palms explore the familiar warmth of his scaled arms and broad shoulders.

He kneads my waist with careful fingers, mindful of my changing body.

Each kiss sears away the day’s horror. I tilt my head back, granting him access to my throat, and he accepts the invitation with hungry lips, trailing kisses and faint grazes of fang that make me gasp.

The tension in my limbs uncoils, replaced by an urgent desire to fuse with him, to forget the watchers outside this door.

We stumble to the cot, breath mingling in hushed moans.

He lifts me, placing me carefully on the thin mattress.

Our eyes lock, an unspoken vow in the hush.

Then his tail snakes around my thigh, easing apart my legs.

My pulse thunders. I recall every moment of our previous encounters, how he ensured I never felt pain beyond that first intense stretch.

Now, with my pregnancy, we must be extra cautious, yet the want simmers, unstoppable.

He shifts his lower body, revealing the double shafts once more, barbs glinting faintly in the lamp’s glow.

My heart flips in both excitement and nerves.

But the slow, reverent way he braces his hands at my hips soothes me.

We’ve navigated this before, forging passion from taboo. I arch, guiding him closer.

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips, then lowers his mouth to my collarbone, tracing gentle circles with his tongue.

My breath falters. Each touch sends sparks of sensation through me, overshadowing the fear that’s become our constant companion.

I slide my hands over his shoulders, feeling the ripple of muscle and the ridges of scale.

When he enters me, it’s a careful intrusion—reverent, aching, like he’s rediscovering the shape of my body through the lens of need and caution.

I gasp as the first thick head of his lower cock pushes into me, the stretch instant and shocking, a slow blooming ache that builds into pleasure.

He’s always been big—gods, too big—but this time, it’s different.

My body has changed, hips slightly wider, walls more sensitive.

The moment he begins to fill me, my whole body tightens around him like it’s missed this. Missed him.

A ragged moan tears from his throat, his forehead dropping to mine. “Gods, Mira…” he breathes. “You feel even tighter.”

“Don’t stop,” I whisper, threading trembling fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to keep him close. “I want all of you.”

He growls softly—low and guttural—his tail coiling around my thigh to brace me as the second cock presses in, gliding against my swollen folds.

It doesn't push inside yet—just rubs up and down, the ridged space between his shafts grinding directly over my clit, making my breath hitch in a sharp gasp.

“Oh gods Vahziryn?—”

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Let me make you forget everything else.”

The barbs drag gently along my inner walls as he moves, and I cry out, shocked at the surge of pleasure they wring from me. They don’t hurt—they claim . Each pull is a delicious bite of friction that leaves my pussy fluttering around him, dripping, hungry.

He rocks into me slowly, deliberately, like he’s memorizing every reaction. My whimpers, the way I clutch his arms when he sinks deeper. The way my legs shake when the second shaft finally nudges at my entrance and slides in beside the first.

“Too much?” he asks, voice tight.

“No. More. ”

My cunt stretches around the impossible fullness of both cocks, the space between them stimulating every nerve. That slick ridge drags over my clit with every stroke, and the moment he starts to move—short thrusts, hips grinding—I nearly sob.

“Fuck—you feel so good—so full, ” I pant, hips rolling instinctively to meet each drive.

“You were made for this,” he growls. “For me. I can feel you gripping both cocks like you’re trying to milk them.”

“I am, ” I moan shamelessly. “I want to wring every drop from you.”

He loses the last thread of restraint.