Page 10 of Lord of the Lone Wolf (Bonded Hearts #3)
Kitsuki
K itsuki’s control slipped every moment the fight continued.
His dragon, usually content to observe from within, had surged forward the instant Maseo had switched to the battle-axe.
Now, it prowled at the edges of his consciousness, demanding more involvement, more contact, more of everything related to the green-eyed half-wolf shifter who moved with such lethal grace.
He fights as if he were born for it , his dragon whispered in his mind. Look at how he anticipates our movements, how he compensates for the weapon’s weight. Imagine him protecting our Auslin on the battlefield.
Kitsuki ignored the commentary, but his dragon’s interest had physical manifestations he couldn’t suppress.
His senses sharpened beyond normal limits.
He could hear Maseo’s quickened heartbeat, smell the clean sweat dampening his skin, and see the minute adjustments in muscle tension that telegraphed his next move.
“Your stance is too wide,” Kitsuki called out, feinting left before striking from the right. “In actual battle, that would cost you your balance.”
Maseo narrowed his stance and used the axe’s momentum to deflect Kitsuki’s sword before counterattacking with a powerful overhead swing that would have cleaved him in two had it connected. “Better?”
The half-smile accompanying the question sent a flash of heat through Kitsuki’s body. His dragon rumbled with approval.
He learns quickly. Adapts. Challenges us. Perfect for our trinity.
Despite Kizoshi’s conviction that Kitsuki would form the fabled trinity bond, he refused to accept it as truth.
You cannot deny what we both feel , his dragon countered. Auslin feels the same, though he doesn’t understand it yet.
Kitsuki pushed his distraction aside. “Much better. But can you maintain it under pressure?”
Without waiting for a response, Kitsuki increased his speed, pushing Maseo harder. The training hall filled with the sounds of steel clashing against steel, the heavy breathing of two warriors pushing their limits, and the occasional grunt of effort when a powerful blow connected.
Jaega had stepped back to observe, but Kitsuki barely noticed his uncle’s withdrawal.
His entire focus had narrowed to Maseo’s movements, the determination in his eyes, and the skill with which he wielded a challenging weapon.
There was something mesmerizing about how he handled the battle-axe, not with brute force but with a dancer’s precision and a warrior’s confidence.
Imagine all his strength and grace at our command , his dragon purred. In battle, and elsewhere.
The thought sent a powerful rush of desire through Kitsuki, causing him to miss a parry. Maseo’s axe handle caught him across the chest, sending him staggering backward.
Instead of pressing his advantage, Maseo paused, concern flashing across his features. “Are you?—”
Kitsuki didn’t let him finish, launching back into the fight with renewed intensity. “Never hesitate in battle,” he growled, his dragon’s voice overlapping his own. “Your enemy won’t show you the same courtesy.”
Maseo recovered, bringing the axe up to block Kitsuki’s overhead strike. “I’ll remember that,” he replied, a hint of challenge in his tone that made Kitsuki’s blood sing. “Though I’d prefer not to think of you as my enemy.”
The exchange felt like more than combat.
It was a dance, a negotiation, a testing of the connection between them.
Each blow was a question, and each parry an answer.
The give-and-take of their movements mirrored a more intimate exchange.
Advance and retreat, pressure and release, dominance and submission in a balanced rhythm.
He would submit so beautifully , his dragon whispered, sending startling images through Kitsuki’s mind. But not without making us earn it first. He would challenge us, making the eventual surrender all the sweeter.
Kitsuki’s control slipped further as the fight continued, his movements becoming more aggressive, more possessive.
He maneuvered Maseo around the training hall, herding him like prey, testing his responses to different pressure.
Each time Maseo adapted, overcame, or countered his strategies, Kitsuki’s dragon growled with increasing approval.
“You’re holding back,” Maseo accused during a brief pause as they circled each other. A flush had spread across his cheekbones, his eyes bright with exertion and something darker that made Kitsuki’s mouth dry.
“And you are not showing me everything you can do,” Kitsuki countered, his dragon’s influence making his voice drop to a predatory purr. “Stop hiding your true capabilities. I want to see all of you.”
Maseo transformed his fighting style. Gone was the careful, technically perfect soldier, replaced by something wilder and more instinctive.
He spun the axe in an aggressive pattern that even Kitsuki, with centuries of combat experience, had difficulty tracking.
The weapon became an extension of Maseo’s body, its deadly arc keeping Kitsuki at bay while showcasing a fluid grace that was hypnotic to watch.
“Is this what you wanted to see?” Maseo asked, his voice carrying a hint of something that made Kitsuki’s dragon rumble with approval.
Yes , his dragon answered, clawing at Kitsuki’s restraint. We want him.
“It is a start,” Kitsuki replied.
What followed was the most exhilarating combat Kitsuki had experienced in centuries.
Maseo fought with everything he had, using the battle-axe with a creativity and skill that defied conventional training.
He compensated for the weapon’s limitations with sheer audacity, executing maneuvers that should have been impossible for someone of his build using such a heavy implement.
His mastery was an intoxicating demonstration of capability that felt like seduction.
Maseo executed an impressive sequence, spinning the axe behind his back before bringing it forward in a powerful strike that Kitsuki barely blocked.
The king couldn’t suppress a sound of appreciation that was far too close to a moan.
Kitsuki responded in kind, his dragon’s influence lending him speed and strength beyond what he typically employed in training.
He showed off complex sword techniques he reserved for serious combat.
Part of him knew he should rein it in and maintain the professional distance befitting a king and his subject, but the primal part of him refused to be contained.
Their movements grew more synchronized with each passing minute, as if they were learning each other’s bodies through combat rather than touch.
When Maseo anticipated one of Kitsuki’s attacks and countered with perfect timing, their gazes met over their crossed weapons, and the recognition that flashed between them was almost painfully intimate.
We need to feel him yield to us , his dragon insisted. We must test his submission. See if he will surrender to our strength.
The opportunity arose when Maseo attempted an ambitious attack, swinging the axe in a horizontal arc that would have been deadly if Kitsuki hadn’t had the benefit of shifter speed. The move left him overextended, his balance compromised by the weapon’s momentum.
In that split second of vulnerability, Kitsuki struck.
He landed behind Maseo and swept his legs from under him, following him down to the floor with predatory grace.
Before Maseo could recover, Kitsuki disarmed him and pinned him beneath his weight, one hand securing both of Maseo’s wrists above his head, their bodies aligned from chest to thigh.
The position was unmistakably dominant, their faces close enough that Kitsuki could feel Maseo’s rapid breaths against his lips.
The sudden stillness after their frenzied combat was dizzying; the only sounds were their synchronized breathing and pounding hearts.
His dragon took complete control before Kitsuki could stop it.
“Such a fierce little wolf,” his dragon purred. “You fought magnificently with exquisite skill.”
Maseo lay still beneath him, his eyes wide with something that wasn’t fear but might have been wonder. His chest heaved with exertion, his body warm and pliant against Kitsuki’s. He met Kitsuki’s gaze with equal intensity, accepting the pin without surrendering his dignity.
“We wonder what other strengths you possess,” his dragon continued, lowering his face until their noses almost touched. “What other talents do you hide beneath that controlled exterior? What sounds would you make when truly tested? How would you respond to conquest?”
A flush spread across Maseo’s cheeks, but he didn’t look away. Instead, his pupils dilated, the green of his irises reduced to a thin ring around expanding black. His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them in a gesture that Kitsuki’s dragon tracked with predatory focus.
Kitsuki felt an almost imperceptible arch of Maseo’s back pressing them closer together. He tilted his head to expose the vulnerable line of his throat in ancient submission. Maseo’s unmistakable hardening against Kitsuki’s thigh spoke of arousal rather than fear.
The realization that the fierce warrior, who had held his own against two dragons, yielded to his dominance ignited a possessive hunger in Kitsuki. His rational mind screamed caution about propriety, but his dragon was beyond such considerations.
He wants us , his dragon crowed in triumph. We could have our trinity bond if we claimed him now. Kizoshi was right. He is the missing piece. He is ours.
Kitsuki lowered his head further, drawn by instincts older than reason, his lips hovering above Maseo’s pulse point, where his scent was strongest. He could feel Maseo’s anticipation building in the body beneath him.
The urge to taste, to claim, to mark was overwhelming, drowning out every rational thought.
“Well,” Jaega’s amused voice cut through the haze of desire, “this is certainly an interesting development. Though I suppose I should have expected it, given our family’s particular needs.”
The words shocked Kitsuki back to awareness of where he was and what he was doing. Horror washed over him as he realized he had Nasume’s son, a half-blood refugee who depended on his protection, pinned beneath him in a blatantly sexual position, with his uncle watching the entire display.
He scrambled off Maseo as if burned, his face flooding with heat as mortification replaced desire. What had he been thinking? How could he have allowed his dragon such complete control?
“That was—my dragon was…” Kitsuki stammered, unable to form a coherent explanation for his behavior. “I apologize for the inappropriate?—”
He couldn’t even finish the sentence, shame closing his throat as he watched Maseo sit up in confusion.
There was also hurt there, a flash of rejection that made Kitsuki’s dragon snarl in protest at their sudden withdrawal.
The connection that had been building between them during their combat shattered, leaving an emptiness that ached in Kitsuki’s chest.
Go back to him , his dragon demanded. Finish what we started. He was willing. He wanted us. You felt it, too.
Kitsuki suppressed the urge, forcing his dragon back into his cage, where he continued to claw and protest. “I believe we have seen enough to evaluate your combat skills,” he said, retreating behind formality like a shield.
“Uncle, perhaps you could see to Maseo’s quarters in the barracks?
I worry about the optics of letting him stay in the castle. ”
The excuse sounded hollow even to his own ears. They both knew the real reason he wanted Maseo at a distance was because of the magnetic pull between them.
Jaega gave him a long look that contained equal parts understanding, amusement, and concern. “Of course. Come, lad, let us get you settled.”
Maseo rose to his feet with the fluid grace that had so captivated Kitsuki’s dragon, his expression neutral now, although his scent still carried traces of the arousal that had flared between them.
He bowed to Kitsuki, the perfect picture of respectful deference.
But Kitsuki didn’t miss the slight tremor in Maseo’s hands or how his gaze wouldn’t quite meet the king’s.
“Thank you for the assessment, Your Majesty. I appreciate the opportunity to prove my worth.”
The formality was like a knife to Kitsuki’s heart, erasing the moment of connection they had shared. But it was safer that way. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, not trusting himself to speak without his dragon’s influence coloring his words.
As Jaega led Maseo from the training hall, Kitsuki remained rooted in place.
He could still feel the phantom weight of Maseo’s body beneath his and smell the intoxicating blend of exertion and arousal that had clouded his judgment.
When the door closed behind them, he let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his long hair, trying to ground himself in the present moment.
Why had his dragon reacted to Maseo, of all people? And why did Maseo’s lingering scent still call to him?
Because Maseo should be ours , his dragon pressed. He responded to us. You saw how perfectly he fought, how beautifully he yielded. Kizoshi has seen the truth of it. Stop denying what is meant to be.
“Be silent,” Kitsuki hissed aloud, pacing in agitation. “He is under our protection. He depends on our sanctuary. What you suggest would be an abuse of power.”
It is not abuse when the desire is mutual , his dragon argued. You felt his response. You saw his submission. He would come to us if you allowed it. He wants Auslin just as much.
His dragon subsided, but the embers of desire continued to burn. Kitsuki needed Kisano’s wise perspective as someone who would grasp the complexities of dragon nature without judgment.
With a final glance at the spot where he had pinned Maseo to the floor, Kitsuki left the hall, his steps purposeful despite the turmoil within. His brother would help him make sense of the unexpected reaction and regain the control that had slipped during what should have been a simple assessment.
One thing was certain. Kitsuki could never allow such a lapse again, no matter how his dragon raged or how the memory of Maseo’s willing surrender haunted him.