Page 28 of The Dragon King’s Claw (The Dragons of Serai #17)

Once again, I found myself carried into the royal carriage by the Dragon King of Rushao. And once again, I lay in his arms as he offered me his blood—the very thing that had gotten me beaten, to begin with. And the very thing I needed more than anything else at that moment.

I took what he offered.

With my mouth latched onto the strong column of the royal neck, I drank. And I healed. That fucking Dragon blood. Paradise and eternal torment in one. Bones mended, snapping into place. Flesh fused. Blood was born in blood, infusing my thirsty veins with life. His life.

My injuries were too great for me to feel lust in the feeding.

I hadn't realized how much damage I'd taken until I tasted the blood.

Then I knew. If the King hadn't found me when he did, I'd be dead.

I was minutes away from succumbing. Mentally giving up had hastened the process.

Still, even with the reforming of bones and blood, I savored the King.

And the possibility that these were my last moments of freedom.

If he tried to claim me now, I'd let him, and many things would change.

At least I wasn't dead.

As much as I valued my freedom, I didn't value it more than life.

The King had saved me. On top of that, the trauma I had been through had shifted my perspective.

What was done, was done. I would be his.

Period. The only question was; how long would it be before he made me his?

It would either be a brief, magnificent affair, or I would be bound to him forever.

With his blood in my mouth, and his body in my hands, I wasn't sure which outcome I preferred.

Then I drew back, licked his wound until it closed, and looked at him.

And I knew that either way, I was already chained.

Let's not lie to ourselves and add to the foolishness.

As rare as it is, I always admit when I'm wrong.

“How did you find me?” I whispered.

“I know your scent.” The King brushed the hair back from my face, his expression tender.

Unlike the first time I had taken blood from him, I hadn't let lust consume me. So, I hadn't taken too much. He wasn't weakened. A fact he proved when he shifted me off his lap and onto the bench beside him.

I wiped my face and my hand came away bloody.

Not the King's blood. No, that would be mine.

Wait. It wasn't mine. Not all of it. I stared at it as the scent filled my nose, trying to work out whose blood it was.

Then a snippet came to me. Even tucked away in my mind, I had still documented what was going on around me.

My eyes had been open, taking it all in. And now, I reviewed my mental notes.

Eljaffna screamed as Dragons flooded the basement. They spread out, striking men and women down like a harvest. Making a path to me. For him.

The Dragon King came into the room snarling, blue eyes burning and claws extended from his fingertips.

His face was half-shifted as well—something only the most powerful of Dragons could do.

And yet, under all that ferocity, fear rode him.

I saw it in the skin around his eyes and lips. Heard it when he shouted my name.

The King of Rushao had feared for me.

King Tor'rien bashed men into the air. Anyone foolish enough to get in his way died. Not injured. Killed. Instantly. Heads bashed in. Throats torn out. Sightless eyes stared into mine.

The men who had been torturing me froze in shock.

It didn't matter. Even had they tried to flee, they wouldn't have survived.

Not with my blood on their hands. The King cut them down.

Vengeance personified. It was their blood on my face.

It had splattered me. Gushed over me. All while I sat quietly, tucked away in my subconscious.

He had feared for me and killed for me.

I lifted my stare from my bloody hand, back in the present, and gaped at the King. “You . . . how did you even know I was in danger?”

“Tekhan,” he whispered as his hand slid behind my neck, fingers weaving into my hair. “Do you really need to ask?”

And then he was kissing me. No, I was kissing him.

It was mutual. We were both grasping at each other, pulling and groaning.

Blood was everywhere—on our clothes and skin.

In our hair. But we didn't care. It felt like the perfect way for me to surrender.

In blood and lust. Saved and enslaved. But it didn't feel like a surrender when I kissed him.

Oddly enough, I felt as if he were surrendering to me.

I kissed the King all the way to his castle.

He refused to take things further in the carriage.

Something about needing our first time to be perfect.

But when we pulled to a stop in the courtyard, the King didn't take me inside.

He took my hand and ran with me into the gardens.

That felt right too. I found myself laughing, especially at the looks of horror on the faces of the courtiers we passed.

We must have been terrifying. Covered in blood, grinning, and running. Perspective. It's all about perspective. And my perspective had honed in on the Dragon King.

Tor'rien. He was no longer the King. Not when I was with him like that. In the seconds it took for him to find us a nook within the vast gardens, he became a man. Just Tor'rien. And I stopped being a claw. I was Tekhan. Maybe even Tek.

Within the tangled embrace of blooming wisteria, we dropped to the ground and undressed each other.

No more protests. It was done. Even if it hadn't begun. Sunlight sparkled through the woven canopy of branches, lighting my path across his body. The dips and mountains of his flesh. The hard plane of Tor’rien's stomach.

Those damn biceps. I kissed it all, drawing my lips over his silken skin to sensitive spots, taking delight in my discoveries.

Tor'rien's hands were in my hair, guiding me. Encouraging my explorations. So much to discover. The ticklish rib. The inward bellybutton. The downward dips of his pelvis that led me to something delicious. Oh, but I had to savor this. Not there, not yet. And Tor'rien knew it too.

He pushed me onto my back and then followed me down.

Tor'rien's mouth opened on my throat. He bit down.

I arched up. Pleasure was bright and hot, almost as blinding as the sun.

I gripped his broad shoulders, but my hands wouldn't stay put.

They wandered on their own, over the muscles of his back.

Down further. His ass filled my hands. I squeezed.

“I'm going to take you now,” Tor'rien whispered in my ear. “Take, not just fuck. You need to know that once I have you, you will be mine always. I won't let you go, Tekhan.”

Eyelids fluttering, I focused on him. Met his stare. He was serious.

And so was I when I answered. “I know. And neither will I.”

Baring his teeth in a vicious but triumphant grin, Tor'rien fulfilled his promise.

I cried out as his flesh entered mine. It had never felt this blissful before.

Normally, there was some discomfort at first. Not with him.

Tor'rien fit perfectly from the very beginning.

He eased into me as if he knew every inch of my body and just how to make it his.

“Tor'rien.” I lifted my legs to wrap them around his waist.

“At last.” He kissed me again, his thrusts going deeper and deeper with every sweep of his tongue. Then he pulled back to hold my stare. “Say it. Say it now.”

“I'm yours.”

Tor'rien roared, lifting his head and slamming forward. Going even deeper. He had held himself back until I admitted the truth. As was his way.

But now that I was his, and he was mine, there was no holding back for either of us.

I met his thrusts eagerly, hands and hips working to impale myself further on him.

Growling and grinning, Tor'rien accepted my offering and took even more from me.

He took everything. I knew it. Nevertheless, I couldn't stop it.

Nor could I stop him from giving me everything in return.

When Tor'rien reached his climax at last, it was only after I started to crest. One last hold-back for me. But again, as I gave up, so did he, and we cried out together, both of us victorious. Both of us blissful. Both of us bound. Ephemeral? Most likely. Ridiculous? No.