Page 49 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons (Empire of Vengeance #4)

The scars on her throat haunted me almost as much as her escape.

I'd felt them beneath my fingers that first night, the twin puncture wounds that marked her as claimed by others.

Dragons, most likely—the spacing and depth suggested fangs rather than human teeth.

The rage I'd felt at that discovery had been primal and overwhelming, a possessive fury that demanded I erase those marks with my own.

But dragons were powerful creatures, and if she was already bonded to shifters, the complications would be... significant. I was strong, stronger than most Talfen dragons.

I'd claimed her first by right of rescue, taken her from a battlefield where she would have died without my intervention. Whatever bonds she might have formed before were irrelevant now—she was mine, and I would keep her regardless of who might object.

The shadows that had been menacing her suddenly withdrew, melting back into the natural darkness of the forest. I heard her sharp intake of breath as the immediate threat disappeared, but I knew she was smart enough to understand this was just a temporary reprieve.

I was toying with her, and she knew it.

Time to end the game.

I stepped out from behind a massive pine, allowing her to see me clearly for the first time since the hunt began. Her hand flew to her throat in an unconscious defensive gesture, and I saw her eyes go wide as she took in my appearance.

The hunt had awakened something primal in me, something that showed in every line of my body.

Power flowed around me like a visible aura, and the shadows seemed to cling to my form as if seeking the warmth of living flesh.

I was no longer the man who had fed her by hand and taught her words in my native tongue.

I was the creature of nightmare that had torn Imperial soldiers from their mounts and left their army broken in the valley below.

"Aeveth," I said, using the name I'd given her that first night. Little flame. It suited her—the way she burned bright against the darkness that surrounded her, never quite extinguished no matter how hopeless her situation became.

"Don't," she said, backing away from me until her shoulders hit the rough bark of another tree. "Don't come any closer."

But I was already moving, closing the distance between us with fluid grace.

The shadows moved with me, reaching out to caress her trembling form with tendrils of living darkness.

She tried to run, but there was nowhere to go—I had chosen this spot carefully, using my supernatural senses to drive her into a natural trap formed by fallen logs and rocky outcroppings.

"Please," she whispered as the shadows began to wind around her arms and legs, holding her gently but implacably against the tree. "I just... I just wanted to go home."

The word hit me like a physical blow, cutting through my predatory satisfaction to reveal something unexpectedly vulnerable beneath.

Home. What did that word even mean to someone like me?

The temple where I'd learned to command shadow was a place of learning, not comfort.

The villages I'd grown up in were ash and memory.

I had no home, no place where I belonged, no life beyond the war that had shaped me.

But looking at her now, seeing the tears that tracked down her dirty cheeks and the way she held herself with dignity despite her captivity, I thought I might understand what the word meant after all.

She was home. This fierce, impossible woman who had somehow quieted the voices in my head and given me the first peaceful sleep I'd known in months. She was what I'd been searching for without knowing I was searching, the missing piece that would make me whole again.

If that was true, then I could never let her go.

"Aythen val neth," I said softly, the words carrying a weight of meaning she couldn't possibly understand. You belong with me. "Korveth sul'thanor." No more running.

She struggled against the shadow bonds, her strength impressive even when pitted against supernatural force. "I don't understand," she said desperately. "I don't know what you want from me."

But she did understand, at least partially.

I could see it in her eyes—the recognition of what lay between us, the acknowledgment of a connection that transcended language and logic.

She felt it just as keenly as I did, this pull that made her breath catch when I touched her, that had made her respond to my caresses even while she hated herself for it.

The mate bond was not one-sided. She might not understand what it was, might fight against its implications, but she felt its power nonetheless.

I approached slowly, savouring the way her pulse hammered visibly in her throat, the way her breathing grew shallow as I drew near.

When I was close enough to touch her, I raised one hand and traced the line of her jaw with my fingertips, feeling the electric connection that sparked between us at the contact.

She shuddered at the touch, her eyes closing briefly before snapping open to glare at me with magnificent fury.

"I hate you," she whispered, but the words lacked conviction. How could she hate me when her body betrayed her so completely? When the scent of her arousal was sharp in the cold mountain air despite her terror?

"Sy'then val sulan," I replied, leaning close enough that my breath stirred the hair at her temple. You are mine. "Korveth alathan nul." You will learn.

The shadows around her arms loosened slightly, allowing her to move but not to escape.

I stepped back, studying her flushed face and the way her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath.

The hunt had exhausted her, but it had also awakened something in both of us—a primal recognition of predator and prey that was as ancient as the mountains themselves.

She was magnificent. Defiant even in defeat, beautiful even dirty and dishevelled from her flight through the forest. The warrior's scars that marked her body spoke of strength and survival, of a woman who had faced death and emerged victorious.

She would bear strong children, if I chose to give them to her.

The thought should have terrified me. Children meant passing on the curse that ran in my bloodline, the susceptibility to shadow magic that had already consumed so much of what I'd once been.

But looking at her now, imagining her belly round with my child, I felt only a fierce possessive satisfaction.

She would be mine in every way that mattered. Body, mind, and soul.

But first, I needed to speak with Aytara.

The old woman knew more about mate bonds than anyone else in our scattered people, and if there was any way to break such a connection before it was fully sealed, she would know it.

I needed to understand what I was contemplating before I took steps that could never be undone.

Which meant returning to the temple with my prize, despite every instinct screaming at me to claim her here and now beneath the watching stars.

And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to step away.

Her eyes bright and defiant closed as I leaned down and brushed my lips over hers.

I felt her sigh, her lips parting voluntarily as I deepened the kiss.

She knew. She might run, but she knew she was mine.

I pulled away, the taste of her a brand on my lips. Her surrender, however brief, was a victory more profound than any battlefield triumph. The voices sang in my skull, a chorus of triumph. She yields. She knows her place. Take her now. Breed her. Fill her with your darkness.

I kissed her again, this time sliding my hand into her hair to pull her mouth against mine, kissing her deeply and without mercy.

It was not a kiss of affection, but of ownership, a bruising claim that left no doubt as to who was in control.

I plundered her mouth, tasting her fear and her fight and the sweet, unwilling surrender beneath it all.

Her body went pliant against the tree, a silent admission of defeat that was more potent than any drug.

A low groan rumbled in my chest. This was right.

This was inevitable. The whispers fell silent, awed into submission by the sheer force of the connection that flared between us.

My lips moved along her jaw and down her throat, and she gasped as I flicked my tongue over the marks of her old mates.

My teeth tingled with the desire to bite down, to add my own, but I fought it back.

I would allow myself this pleasure, but not the claiming. Not yet.

I moved down slowly, my mouth never leaving her skin as I unlaced her shirt and pulled it apart, baring her beautiful breasts to the night.

My shadows flowed up and over them, tendrils of darkness brushing over her skin, and she moaned.

I bent my head, sucking her nipple into my mouth and she struggled against the restraints once more, arching her back and pushing deeper into my mouth.

Her whimpers were like fuel, and I drew harder, my tongue lashing the sensitive peak until she cried out, a raw, broken sound of pure sensation.

My shadows obeyed the unspoken command of my lust, sliding over her other breast, their cool touch a stark contrast to the heat of my mouth.

They toyed with her nipple, rolling the nub between incorporeal fingers until it was as hard and beaded as the one I devoured.

I moved to it, giving it equal, punishing attention.

Her head thrashed against the tree, her breath coming in ragged sobs.

The fight had bled out of her, replaced by a desperate, frantic need that made her arch against her bonds, pushing her body into my assault.

She was unravelling, and the sight of her coming apart for me was a victory more intoxicating than any battle.

My shadows pulled at the rest of her clothing, leaving her naked and restrained before me.

She looked as she had the night I’d healed her shoulder and cleaned her wounds.

I had fought to resist her allure that night, never wanting to take something that was unwillingly given.

But now I knew the touch of her, the taste of her, and I was no longer holding back.

The shadows around her ankles tightened, pulling her legs apart and she gasped as I knelt, desperate for another taste of her.

The scent of her arousal, mingled with fear and the clean smell of the forest, was the most potent intoxicant I had ever known.

She was slick for me, her body betraying her defiance with every shuddering breath.

I nuzzled into the nest of dark curls, inhaling her, before my mouth found the heart of her.

Her hips bucked against the pressure, a frantic rhythm that matched the wild beating of her heart.

I gave her no quarter, my tongue a relentless weapon against her most sensitive flesh.

She was a storm breaking against me, her cries turning from protest to raw, shameless pleasure.

The shadows that held her tightened, a silent command to hold still and take what I was giving her.

I devoured her, drinking in her surrender.

Each tremor that wracked her body was a victory, each helpless sob a hymn to my power.

The whispers in my skull screamed for me to bite her, to finish it, but this was better.

This was a slow, meticulous erasure of any trace of her other mates.

I was branding her with my own scent, my own pleasure, marking her soul deep where no one else could reach.

When her climax ripped through her, a violent, consuming wave that left her boneless and sobbing against her restraints, I drank that too.

A long, keening wail tore from her throat, a sound of such pure, animal release that it resonated deep in my own bones. Her body convulsed, a violent, beautiful tremor that went on and on until she was left limp against her bonds, boneless and gasping.

I rose slowly, tasting her on my lips. She was marked, not with my teeth, but with my pleasure. She was mine. The defiant warrior was gone, replaced by this trembling, wrecked creature.

The sight sent another wave of savage satisfaction through me. She was marked, however temporarily, as mine.

Now , the voices screamed, a deafening chorus. Take her. Break her. Make her scream your name.

I tried to resist tried to fight it, but I couldn’t. Not with the taste of her on my tongue.

The whispers became a roar, a tidal wave of need that swept away the last vestiges of my control.

I tore at the fastenings of my skirt, the leather falling to the ground as I stepped forward, my erection a testament to the hunger she stoked in me.

The shadows holding her shifted, tilting her hips forward to grant me better access, a silent, eager offering.

My cock pressed against the wet heat between her thighs, and a shudder wracked my entire frame. I fought for a final shred of control, my teeth grinding together as the urge to bite, to sink my fangs into the soft flesh of her throat and seal the bond forever, became a physical agony.

Not yet. The thought was a splinter of reason in a maelstrom of lust. Not until I know.

But I would take this. I would take her. She was already mine.