Page 34 of The Dragon King's Pregnant Mate
The accusation hits like a physical blow. "Is that what you think? That I never—" I break off, smoke curling thick between my teeth. How can I make her understand what she means to me when I barely understand it myself?
"Arvoren," she says softly, and somehow that hurts worse than anger would have. I cannot bear the shape of my name on her lips. "You didn’t know how to love without consuming—without consuming me. My greatest fear has been, all this time…that you would never learn.” And, unspoken:and you haven’t.
"You don't know how to trust," I snap back. "How to stay and fight instead of running at the first sign of conflict. You talk of freedom, but you're just as trapped by your fears as I am by mine. Millrath was your home, I am yourhusband—”
"My husband?" Her laugh is bitter as the cold wind around us. "You don’t know anything, my king. My fears kept me alive these past months. Running kept me safe—"
"Safe?" I gesture to her wounds, to the purple-black bruises visible at her throat. "You call this safe? Whatever game you were playing with Ulric, youlost—"
"Don't." Calliope looks truly angry for the first time, some of that hollowness cracking and melting. She glares up at me from the other side of the fire. "Don't you dare judge what I did to survive when you're the reason I had to run in the first place. When you still can't see—" She breaks off, pressing her hands to her face. Through our bond, I feel her exhaustion, her frustration, but also something else—a desperate longing that mirrors my own.
"What?" I step closer, close enough to feel the magic radiating from her skin like heat. "What can't I see, Calliope?"
"That I wanted to stay!" The words burst from Calliope like she's been holding them back for months. "That I wanted to believe in you, in us, in everything you promised. But how could I? How could I trust you with—" She catches herself. "How could I trust you when you never truly trusted me?"
The silence that follows feels like a physical weight. We stare at each other across the small space, both breathing hard, both unable to bridge the chasm of hurt and fear between us. Snow falls thicker around our small camp, as if responding to her turbulent emotions.
"I searched for you." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "Every day since you fled. Every report, every rumor, every whisper of your whereabouts. I left my Kingdom on the brink of civil war to find you."
"Because you needed your queen." The bitterness in her voice makes my chest ache. "Your symbol of power. Your—"
"Because I neededyou!" The words emerge in a roar that shakes snow from the branches above.
Calliope flinches at my outburst, but doesn't back down.
After a silent moment, she rises to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate despite her exhaustion. The firelight catches in her hair, turning it to molten copper, and for a moment I'm struck breathless by her beauty, her fierceness. Even wounded and weary, she stands before me like a queen—no, like a goddess of old, terrible and magnificent.
"You needed me," she repeats, her voice low and dangerous. "And what of what I needed, Arvoren? What of my choices, my desires?"
She takes a step forward, and I feel the air thicken with magic—hers and mine, intertwining, pushing against each other like storm fronts. The snow falling around us begins to steam and hiss where it touches our skin. The fire flares higher, casting wild shadows across her face. The tension between us crackles like lightning, electric and dangerous. Calliope's eyes flash with defiance, with hurt, with something else I can't quite name. The air grows thick with magic, snow hissing as it melts against our skin. Her hair whips around her face, caught in a wind that seems to emanate from her very being.
I can't look away from her—the curve of her neck, the set of her jaw, the way her chest rises and falls with each rapid breath. Even in her anger, even after everything, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Calliope," I growl, her name a plea and a warning all at once.
She steps closer, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes.
When I surge forward to kiss her, it’s as if no time has passed at all.
Our lips crash together with the force of a storm breaking. My arms encircle her waist, pulling her flush against me as if I could somehow erase the months of separation through sheer will alone. Calliope's hands tangle in my hair, nails scraping my scalp as she presses herself closer. The kiss is all teeth and tongue and desperation, a battle for dominance neither of us is willing to concede.
Steam rises around us as snow melts beneath our feet. The air crackles with magic, with the clash of fire and ice, with the raw power of our bond flaring to life once more. I taste smoke and sweetness on her tongue, feel the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath my fingers as I cup her narrow throat in my hands.
She doesn’t say she loves me, even as she kisses the breath from my lungs. I suppose I can’t expect it from her, not after everything.
Later, as the fire burns low, we curl together near the flame. We didn’t go further than kissing, not now—I’m not sure either of us could quite bear to. Calliope sleeps curled against my chest. Her breath comes slow and even, but I feel her trembling slightly even in sleep. Whether from cold or lingering fear, I'm not sure. I pull her closer, letting my warmth seep into her frozen limbs.
The forest watches us with ancient eyes. Out in the darkness, branches crack under the weight of fresh snow. Every sound makes me tense, expecting Ulric's men to materialize from the shadows. But it's not just enemies I fear now. The spirit guardians recognized something in Calliope—something that made them pause, that made their ancient magic bow to hers. Something I don't understand, for all my dragon's wisdom.
Movement in the trees makes me stiffen, but it's only Darian, limping out of the darkness. Blood has frozen in his beard, and his armor bears deep gouges from talons and steel. The sight of him alone tells me everything I need to know.
"The others?" I ask anyway, though I already know the answer.
He shakes his head once, heavily. "Ulric's men showed no mercy. I only escaped because—" He breaks off, glancing at Calliope's sleeping form. "The magic she unleashed. It gave me the opening I needed. I knew I needed to follow you.”
I close my eyes briefly, grief warring with rage. Good men died today, men who swore their lives to my service. Their blood is on my brother's hands—and on mine, for leading them into his trap.
"You need to return to Millrath," I tell Darian, keeping my voice low. "The throne stands undefended. It will not stand for long."