Page 16 of Rook (Dragon Brides #11)

From the wary look on his mate's face, Rook suspected he had said something wrong.

A languid satisfaction still thrummed through his body, his muscles loose and heavy with pleasure. His skin felt hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive in the aftermath of their joining. The taste of her lingered on his tongue, sweet and addictive.

Her scent surrounded him, a heady mix of arousal and something uniquely Sasha that made his dragon purr with contentment.

He wanted to pull her back against his chest, to feel her heartbeat against his ribs, to bury his face in her hair and breathe her in until she was part of him.

The urge to mark her, to claim her completely, pulsed beneath his skin like a second heartbeat.

Mine, his dragon whispered. Finally, utterly mine.

But going any further without telling her the truth felt like a lie. He shouldn't have taken her like this without saying. She deserved to know.

He had crossed the galaxy and found her. He refused to lose her from simply misspeaking.

Oh, the Royal Matchmaker would be laughing at him now. He'd stormed out of her office, determined to never let fate interfere.

And now …

Sasha scooped his shirt off the floor and pulled it on, crossing her arms under her breasts.

Satisfaction rippled through him at the sight of her in his clothes.

The black fabric swallowed her small frame, the sleeves hanging past her fingertips, the hem hitting mid-thigh.

She looked claimed, marked as his in the most primitive way possible.

His scent would cling to her skin now, a subtle announcement to any other male who came near that she was taken.

Protected. His. The possessive heat that flared in his chest was so intense it took his breath away.

"If you're going to tell me this was a mistake, just say something already," Sasha snapped.

"What? No! I wouldn't—" But he had. Days ago, after that kiss. The things he'd said then were dishonorable. He'd rejected Sasha because he could feel the undeniable pull between them.

He wasn't denying it any longer.

"Either talk or put pants on, Rook."

Right.

He sat on the edge of the bed and tried not to feel disappointed when Sasha moved farther towards the wall to put space between them. She was fully sitting up now and looking at him like he might eat her.

Not like that.

"I told you that my fire could not harm you." It was best to start with the basics.

"Yes …" Sasha had drawn her knees up to her chest, making herself as small as possible in the narrow space.

Her shoulders were rigid, every muscle coiled like she was ready to bolt.

But there was nowhere to go. His bulk blocked the only exit from the sleeping alcove, and she'd have to climb over him to escape.

Her eyes darted from his face to the door and back again, calculating.

The wariness in her green gaze made his chest ache.

"I didn't tell you why."

"I noticed that," she grumbled.

He wanted to kiss her right then. He had a feeling she might bite him if he tried.

"I need you to trust me. Put your hands out."

"Rook …"

"Please." He would lay down his life for her, his very soul. But he needed her to do this, to understand.

Sasha hesitated, her fingers curling into fists against her shins.

She studied his face for a long moment, searching for something that would tell her whether to trust him or run.

Whatever she saw there must have convinced her, because she slowly uncurled and extended her hands toward him, palms up.

Her fingers trembled slightly, but whether from fear or the lingering effects of their lovemaking, he couldn't tell.

Rook summoned his fire, and Sasha gasped. He held his hand out over hers, the fire hovering just an inch from her skin. The flames danced between his fingers, casting golden light across her face. "Do you feel that?" he asked.

"It tickles. But it's not hot. Why?"

He tipped his hand over and released the fire. As close as it was to her skin, it answered the call within her instead of retreating back into him.

Sasha nearly ripped her hands back in shock.

"Careful!" said Rook. "You're immune to my fire. The bed isn't."

"Jesus! Warn a girl." She cupped the fire like it was a baby animal, her movements instinctive and sure despite her startled words. The flames curled around her fingers like living silk, responding to her touch with an eagerness that made Rook's breath catch. "What is this? Why? How?"

"My fire is yours," he said. There were no formal vows, but it felt that way when he said it.

The words carried weight, a solemn promise that settled deep in his bones.

"When you hold it, you control it. You can summon it from my soul and wield it as your own.

When I'm in my other form, you can speak to my mind.

There is only one person in the universe that this is true for. "

Sasha carefully pulled her hands apart and let the fire flow between them in a graceful ribbon of light. She was a natural, her movements confident as she shaped the flames into spirals and loops. The fire obeyed her every whim, eager to please its new mistress. "Why, Rook?"

"You are my mate."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Sasha went very still, the fire frozen in her palms as if even the flames were holding their breath. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating with shock. For a heartbeat, she looked like she'd forgotten how to breathe.

She clapped her hands together, and the fire disappeared. "What? How?"

"It's fate," was his only explanation.

"We're from different planets. "

"Fate doesn't care."

Sasha pushed at his shoulder with both hands, her touch burning through him even as she tried to create distance.

"Okay, you really need to put pants on now.

" She scrambled around him and swung her legs off the bed, looking for her own pants, which she found hanging off the armrest of the chair.

She pulled them on with jerky, agitated movements, her face flushed with something that might have been panic.

Once dressed, she started pacing the narrow confines of the ship like a caged animal.

"I can't be your mate. I'm just … I'm— I'm just some trail guide who lives in her van.

You're a fucking dragon! And a lord! And an alien.

" She clutched her head, fingers tangling in her disheveled hair.

Rook didn't put on his pants. Instead, he crossed the room in two strides and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. She fit perfectly against him, her body molding to his as if they'd been made for each other.

Which, he supposed, they had. "You are wonderful.

And brave. And beautiful. You know the world around you better than anyone I've ever met.

I am proud to call you my mate. If you'll have?—"

It would have been a beautiful declaration.

If the monitoring sensor he'd left outside of the slaver's camp hadn't chosen that moment to shrill through the ship and shatter their peace.