Page 22 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons (Empire of Vengeance #4)

"I'm having some kind of breakdown, actually," he said conversationally. "But I'll process it later. Right now I'm more concerned with the implications." His brow furrowed as his tactical mind engaged. "Are all dragons shifters? Can they all take human form?"

"Yes," I said. "All dragons can shift. That's how Sirrax can—" I stopped, grinning as understanding dawned on his face.

"Sirrax," he breathed. "Sirrax is—"

"One of Livia's lovers, yes." I grinned at his shocked expression. "That's where she's been sneaking off to at night. Why she comes back looking like she's been thoroughly—"

"I do not need details," Septimus said quickly, though I could see him fighting a smile. "Though that does explain why she's been walking differently lately."

I laughed, the sound echoing off the trees around us.

It felt good to laugh, to share this secret with someone who understood, who accepted it without judgment.

He shook his head, still looking dazed. "A dragon.

Multiple human lovers are apparently not enough for Livia, apparently, she's sleeping with a dragon. Two dragons."

"Are you scandalized?" I asked, settling beside him on the log.

"I'm impressed," he said honestly. "And slightly terrified for her structural integrity."

I burst out laughing again, and after a moment, he joined me. The laughter felt cleansing, washing away the last of my tension about the revelation. When it faded, we sat in comfortable silence, listening to the stream babble and the wind sigh through the pines.

"So what now?" Septimus asked eventually. "You said you needed to do this to heal fully."

"Flying helps," I said. "Being able to shift, to be fully myself—it accelerates the healing process. I've been suppressing it for weeks, trying to fit into human spaces, human expectations. My body has been fighting itself trying to heal while only half of what I am was allowed to exist."

"And now?"

"Now I can finish healing properly. Now I can go back to the war and end this once and for all." I turned to look at him, studying his profile in the dappled light. "Will you come with me? I know it's asking a lot—"

"Of course I'll come with you." He met my gaze steadily. "Did you think I'd let you face this alone?"

"It's dangerous. More dangerous now that Kalen knows what I am, what I can do. And if the Emperor discovers the truth about dragons—"

"Then we'll deal with that when it happens." Septimus reached over, his fingers finding mine and intertwining them. "I'm not leaving you, Tarshi. Dragon or human or whatever else you might turn out to be—I'm not leaving you."

The simple declaration sent warmth spreading through my chest, chasing away the last of my fears about his reaction. I lifted our joined hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"I love you," I said quietly. "I should have told you that before. Should have told you everything before."

"You're telling me now," he said. "That's what matters, but there’s one thing I do need to know.”

My chest tightened slightly at his serious tone.

“And what’s that?”

Septimus winced. “Tell me you don’t expect me to ride you, like Livia rides Sirrax?”

I raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Those two weeks after we escaped the ludus, when I had to ride Sirrax to get us away from the search parties?" Septimus shuddered dramatically. "That was enough dragon-riding for a lifetime. My thighs didn't recover for a month, and don't get me started on what that saddle did to my—"

I stood, pulling Septimus up with me, and drew him close.

The feel of his familiar warmth against me, the scent of his skin mixed with pine and mountain air, sent desire spiralling through me.

It had been too long since we'd had privacy, too long since I'd been able to touch him the way I wanted to.

"Don’t worry about that," I murmured against his ear, enjoying the way he shivered at the contact. "The only one who’ll be riding anyone hard is me.”

A choked laugh escaped him, a sound of pure, startled arousal. His dark eyes widened, and I saw the familiar flicker of heat in their depths that always drove me wild. "Is that a threat or a promise?" he asked, his voice rough with want.

"It's a fact," I growled, pushing him back until his shoulders hit the rough bark of a towering pine, my body pinning his, my hips grinding against his in a slow, promising rhythm.

The strength that flowed through me now was more than human, and I revelled in the way he gasped at the force of it. His head tilted back, exposing the long, strong column of his throat, and my fangs ached with the urge to bite, to mark him as mine.

I settled for kissing him instead, my mouth crashing down on his with a hunger that had been building for weeks.

He met me with equal force, his hands coming up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer.

The kiss was a battle, a brutal claiming, a desperate reaffirmation of everything we were to each other.

All the fear I’d carried—that he would see me as a monster, that the truth would break us—melted away in the heat of his immediate, unquestioning surrender.

I broke away, breathing hard, and trailed my lips down his jaw to the pulse hammering at the base of his throat. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name," I whispered against his skin. "Until the only thing you know is me."

"Gods, Tarshi," he breathed, his hips arching against mine in a desperate, involuntary rhythm.

"Your god can't help you now," I murmured, my hand moving between us to cup his cock through the rough fabric of his trousers. He was hard, straining, and the knowledge sent a fresh wave of possessive fire through me. I pushed him to his knees on the soft, mossy ground. "You belong to me."

Septimus didn't fight. He looked up at me, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of want and a fear that was purely carnal, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

He loved this. He loved yielding, loved being taken, and the knowledge made my own power surge, a primal instinct that was more dragon than man.

"Yes," he breathed, the word a soft prayer of submission.

He needed no urging as I pushed the head of my hard cock against his lips, opening for me to slide into his mouth.

His mouth was hot and wet, a willing prison. I fucked his throat with a slow, deliberate rhythm, my hand tangling in his dark hair to hold him steady.

He took me without hesitation, his throat working as I pushed deeper, the slick heat of his surrender a balm to my soul. Sunlight dappled through the pines, illuminating the flush on his high cheekbones, the tears of pleasure that gathered at the corners of his eyes.

The pressure built, a white-hot coil in my gut, and I knew I was close.

The sight of him, so utterly given over to me, was a pleasure more intense than any I had ever known.

With a guttural curse, I pulled back, my cock slick with his saliva.

He looked up at me, his lips red and swollen, his eyes dazed with pleasure.

“Not yet,” I rasped, my voice thick with need. “I’m not done with you. Not even close.”

I reached down, dragging his loose tunic over his head, then dropped to my knees behind him, roughly pulling his breeches down, working them off, along with his boots.

“All of you,” I commanded, my voice a low rumble. “On your hands. Show me how much you want it.”

He obeyed without hesitation, his hands pressing into the soft moss as he braced himself. His back was broad, the muscles shifting under his skin, his ass high and inviting. The sight was primal, beautiful, and it made the dragon inside me roar with satisfaction.

I knelt behind him, my hands tracing the line of his spine before settling on his hips, my thumbs pressing into the dip just above his buttocks.

"Don't move," I commanded, my voice a low growl.

I spat on my fingers and reached between his legs, my touch slick and invasive as I prepared him.

He gasped, his body tensing, his hands fisting in the soft earth.

I worked him open slowly, my fingers learning the tight heat of him, and his initial tension melted into a low, needy groan.

When I knew he was ready, I withdrew my hand and positioned myself, the head of my cock pressing against his slick entrance.

His whole body shuddered in anticipation.

As much as I was dying to take him hard, it had been a while. Instead, I eased myself inside, listening to him moan as I stretched him.

I held myself there, buried to the hilt, my body shuddering with the sheer rightness of it. He was a fire around me, tight and impossibly hot, and I felt the last of my human restraint begin to fray.

A low groan rumbled from deep in my chest as I began to move, my thrusts slow and deep, a deliberate rhythm that was all about possession.

His back arched, his hands digging into the moss as he pushed back against me, meeting each thrust with a silent, desperate need.

“That’s it,” I growled against his ear, my voice more dragon than man. “Take it. Take all of me.”

He rocked back against me, a silent, desperate plea for more, and I obliged, my rhythm turning harder, faster.

The animal inside me was taking over, driven by the need to conquer, to own, to mark him so completely that no one else would ever touch him again.

I gripped his hips, my nails digging into his skin, and slammed into him with a force that was barely human.

He cried out, a sharp, broken sound that echoed through the quiet clearing.

It was a sound of pure surrender, and it sent a wave of savage triumph through me.

I was going to break him, and we would both revel in the beautiful ruin.

I reached around to wrap my hand around his cock. he was rock hard, the slick feeling of precum on the tip as I ran my thumb over it.

I began to stroke him in time with my thrusts, a brutal, relentless rhythm that pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He cried out, a choked, desperate sound as his body began to tremble, the first tremors of his release shaking through him.

"Come for me, Septimus," I commanded, my voice a guttural rasp. "Give it all to me."

His back arched, his hips bucking against my hand, and with a final, ragged shout, he came, his release hot and thick over my fingers.

The sight of him, the feel of his body breaking apart for me, shattered my own control.

A roar ripped from my throat, more dragon than man, as I followed him into the abyss, my own release a violent, shuddering wave that felt like it was tearing my soul from my body.

I drove into him one last time, emptying myself completely, my teeth sinking into the muscle of his shoulder in a final, possessive bite.

He gasped at the sharp pain but didn't pull away, his body accepting the mark.

I collapsed against him, spent, my heart hammering against his back. The scent of sweat, sex, and pine filled the air. I stayed buried inside him, unwilling to break the connection, my hand still gripping his hip. He was mine. In every way that mattered, he was mine. And he knew it.