Page 24 of Flameborne: Fury (Emberquell Academy #2)

SOUNDTRACK: Tether Me by Galleux

~ DONAVYN ~

Damn the fucking harnesses. Damn the dragons feeding the fire. Damn everything except her. It had been heartbreaking holding her, feeling her crumble inside as I spoke such simple reassurance.

I’d wanted to curse God the moment I knew we had to leave the solitude of that cave.

We should have had days together, alone, to cement this fragile bond.

But there’d been no question of the urgency for our return.

So, I whispered hurried words to her during flight, scrambling to keep her heart centered and her trust in me.

I’d known it was needed, but not nearly how much. It was why I’d wanted her to speak, to trust me with her tender pieces so I could show her she was safe. But we were Furyknights. Even when we didn’t pursue battle, it found us.

I won’t stop caring because you’ve been hurt.

She should have rebuked me for implying that it could be otherwise. Instead, she’d shivered when my speculations brushed up on her fear, then opened like a flower to the sun at my reassurance.

They’d been simple words. Only decent. And yet, she’d responded with hope.

Not joy. Not relief. Hope. The reality that someone might care for her despite her past was an idea she’d long given away.

What had happened in her life that had so brutally stripped her of her own beauty?

I still needed to know.

But instead, when she’d turned to face me, to shine at me, to thank me? God knew, I’d been torn in two. Frantic for her. Desperate to connect. And simultaneously appalled.

She came to me like a supplicant, eager for any crumb. She should have stood before me like a Queen.

Kgosi rumbled his approval in my head, but I shoved him out. My dragon and I were firm in our bond. This was a moment I needed solely with my mate.

To my delight, she started nibbling at my neck as I carried her across the meadow where we landed. I’d refused to let her walk. Even holding hands as we ran was too distant. I needed her against me.

Kgosi had sent me a mental image as we landed, a pool beneath the trees he’d spied on the descent.

Hours earlier it would have been too cold, but now, though the winds were stiff, we’d moved far enough south and the storm had blown out enough that the sun warmed the grass—and my body inside my leathers.

As Bren sucked on my neck and whispered my name, I picked up my pace, jogging, desperate to get her under the trees and away from the dragons, my mind crawling with all the reasons we shouldn’t take this time, but since the dragons were unwilling to travel further…

Thank God for their mating drive. I chuckled to myself, breathless.

Bren smiled when she heard me laugh. “What’s funny?” She had her fingers laced behind my neck as I cradled her and her bag she’d slung over her chest, because we hadn’t waited to remove anything once the dragons were free.

“I caught myself thanking God for a giving me an ironclad excuse to take you again instead of continuing back to the Keep,” I said in a voice rough with need as we reached the nearby trees.

I could hear water nearby and thanked God Kgosi had told me about the little waterway.

We both needed to bathe properly, especially if I would return home to an immediate audience with the King.

It was only another minute before we broke through the trees to the sight of a narrow river, it’s opposite bank higher than this side, with a wide pool that slowed the current.

The water would be cold, but the heat generated by the growing sunlight, the dragons’ bond, and our own, would keep us warm.

Personally, I could use something to stifle the internal flames.

Our joining had been so frantic, so urgent, I felt I hadn’t taken proper time with her. And though she seemed as eager as me, I was keen to wrestle back some self-control.

“Time for a bath,” I grinned as I lowered her to her feet.

When she stood at my toes, I almost broke and dove on her. But I gritted my teeth and let her go, helping her remove the satchel slung over her chest.

“Do you have soap and a towel?” I asked, my voice already ragged when her lips curled up and she nodded.

Then we both scrambled to remove our clothing as quickly as possible.

I stumbled getting one of my boots off and almost fell and she spluttered a laugh—and managed to get naked more quickly, running straight for that pool.

Then shrieking and bracing when the cold water hit her skin.

But she didn’t stop until she was waist deep, when she tipped forward, diving beneath the rippling surface, then rippling back up two seconds later like a porpoise, gasping against the cold, the water sluicing down her rosy, pebbled skin as she shot to her feet, pushing back the strands of her hair that had been loosened from her braid by the wind, blinking, and blowing from the cold.

I grabbed the soap and towel from her bag, but was frozen by the sight of her, rising out of the clear pool like some kind of water nymph. And suddenly gripped by the memory of that dream.

“Bren,” I croaked. She pushed the water off her face and eyes, then stood, hands on her hips, smiling. The skin on her face, neck, and arms were tanned, but she was pale everywhere else. Unlike the rest of us, she couldn’t take her shirt off when a training day grew hot.

I was struck by the sight of her, and the eagerness I felt in the bond. Here she stood in broad daylight, shining with water, nipples tight and high, her skin flushed with the cold. And unlike my dream, she didn’t cover herself.

Every muscle in my body tightened at the sight of her.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I breathed.

She inhaled sharply, a rush of warmth and delight reaching me through the bond.

I smiled, tossed the towel aside, and stumbled into the water, cursing when the frigid cold of it splashed against my skin. But I couldn’t get close to her fast enough. To hell with the cold—I needed it to soothe my body’s response to her if I wanted to take this slower than our previous joining.

She started towards me before I was past my knees, both of us hurrying until we slammed together, the water we’d kicked splashing around us.

My body, which was startled by the frigid chill against hot skin, roared when heat and desire bolted from the churning in my chest straight to my groin as she threw herself into my arms and pulled me into a kiss.

I almost dropped the soap as I wrapped that arm around her lower back to pull her up on her toes, and reached for her breast with the other.

As Bren sucked on my tongue and my body sang with need, I wrestled for control.

Should I forget washing altogether? Haul her against me and take her as frantically as I wished to? Or fight to slow down and savor it?

Shivering with the cold from the water, and the intensity of my need, I pulled out of the kiss, my breath heavy and short as I slid my palm cupping the soap up, over her nipple.

And when it slipped easily over her wet skin, drew it up to her collarbones, along those pretty ridges, tracing them with my fingertips, then back down to the other breast, the little pat of soap leaving slick bubbles in my wake.

Chest rising and falling under my touch, Bren looked down and watched, wide-eyed, as I began to wash her, groaning in my throat as I drew the soap down, under her breast and let my thumb brush over the hard rivet of her nipple.

She bit her lip and stared up at me, but I kept my eyes down, watching myself touch her, cupping underneath her breast, the sliding the soap down her ribs, across her belly, then back up.

My breathing was harsh, audible over the tinkling of the river.

Unable to resist, I soaped up my other hand, then leaned back far enough to watch myself paint her with both hands.

As I began to touch her in long, slow strokes, Bren gripped my hips, but let her head sink back, which raised her breasts higher, nipples pointing to the sky.

I grunted as a jolt of desire pulsed through me, making my cock jump and ache as I traced lines on her skin with my fingertips, smiling when her muscles constricted under my touch.

With a growl of need, I dropped one hand to the water, cupping and pulling it up to pour it over her skin. She gasped with the cold, which made her nipples tighten further.

I had to taste them.

Leaning over her, keeping the soap clasped in one hand, I kissed her deeply, dipping my head to taste the skin under her throat, then down, bending her back over my arm as I drew down her body until I could open my mouth over that sweet, rosy peak and suck. Hard.

Bren gasped again, one hand plunging into my hair, but to my delight, she arched further back, but lifted her chin to watch me, holding me there, her breath coming in short, sharp rasps to match my own harsh puffs.

Kissing, sucking, teasing, nipping, I got lost in her body, drawing that soap over every inch of her skin, then following it with cupped handfuls of water not nearly gently enough as I grasped and splashed, letting the trickles slide down the sweet curves of her, following them with my nails when my fingers were empty, thrilling when she twitched and whispered my name.

At some point she took the soap from me and returned the favor, sliding both hands over my chest and abdomen, swirling the small bubbles everywhere, over my shoulders, hips and sides, then down, taking me in her hands, the slick soap giving such a sweet, easy touch, I jolted and thrust into her grip.

For a long minute I fisted her hair in one hand and cupped her breast in the other, rolling my hips, pushing into her hands. But the pleasure grew so quickly I began to shudder, and feared I’d lose control.

Sucking in sharply, I pulled my hips away from her, opening my eyes, smiling when she looked up at me with wary concern.

Panting, I traced the line of her jaw with a finger.