Page 40 of Valor’s Flight (The New Protectorate #5)
He must’ve just stepped out. Fog still clouded the old mirror over the medicine cabinet, and a slow drip of water made a steady beat when it fell from the head of the faucet.
The temperature of her skin heated as the steam cocooned her.
Without thinking, she sucked in an even deeper lungful of air, pulling in the essence of the dragon she’d sought to escape.
Instantly, she was overwhelmed with images of her dragon in the shower, his powerful body bathed in warm water and the scented oils she kept on the shelf.
The memory of his fingers between her legs rushed in, teasing her with how good it could be when neither of them wore clothes.
She imagined the look he’d give her if he was standing in it now — all dark eyes and slow, hungry smile. Her thighs clenched.
From somewhere in the other room, his silken voice called out, “My Shiya?”
Startled, she slammed the door shut. Her cheeks heated to a humiliating degree as she pressed her back against it.
Her pulse was almost too fast to be a proper beat anymore.
It thrummed between her thighs like a live wire, insistent and dangerous, begging to be touched by someone unafraid of the consequences.
Alashiya took a cold shower.
Unfortunately, whatever calm it gave her was immediately negated by the fact that she’d forgotten to bring a change of clothing with her.
All she had was her summer robe, which hung in its normal place on the peg behind the door.
She was too used to living alone. It hadn’t occurred to her that she should bring a change of clothes with her.
The robe wasn’t necessarily intended to be indecent, but it wasn’t something she’d ever planned on wearing in front of another soul, either.
It was overflowing with repurposed fabric she couldn’t bear to cut more than absolutely necessary.
Mrs. Thompson had offered it to her, and she’d fallen in love with the nearly transparent gold voile.
Made of light-weight cotton blended with silk, it’d been a perfect and luxurious addition to her summer wardrobe.
Mouth bone-dry, Alashiya donned the robe and tried to arrange the fabric in such a way that it wouldn’t be quite so obvious that it was, save for the spots in which the fabric overlaid itself, decidedly sheer.
Maybe he won’t notice? She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a while, fingers combing oil into her curls in nervous little twists. It’s just a body. One he’s already been more or less intimate with. Who cares if he sees?
Swallowing to try and replenish some of the evaporated moisture in her mouth, she stepped out of the relative safety of the bathroom. By the time she tiptoed into the doorway of the living room, her heart had attempted to jam itself into her throat. She braced herself.
It took only a second to realize that it was pointless, because Taevas wasn’t in the bed.
A sound behind her prompted her to turn and pad the few feet down the hall to the kitchen. Her near-nakedness was momentarily forgotten as she stood in the doorway.
The dragon stood over a well-loved cutting board, his broad shoulders rounded as he painstakingly sliced a cucumber and put the pieces in a bowl with oil, salt, and the hard, crumbly cheese she ordered special from Debbie.
Had he noticed that was her favorite snack after a long, hot day in the garden? That tingling sensation ran wild in her chest again.
His hair was loose and damp. It hung in dark tendrils between the astonishing array of muscles that made up where his wings met his back.
He’d found another pair of loose pants from the stash of old clothing she’d put in his room — now unoccupied, of course — and they hung dangerously low on his square hips.
A passing thought that she ought to modify where his tail rested on the waistband for him rather than continue letting him crudely slice through it, came and went.
The strain it took him just to stand, let alone stay upright for as long as he must’ve, was apparent in the tremor of his hands, the odd, wrong-looking slump of his wings, and the way his tail rested on the ground behind him.
Alashiya surged into the kitchen. “What are you doing? You need to be in bed!”
He set down the knife and wiped his hands on one of her threadbare but lovingly decorated dish towels.
Taevas propped the heel of one hand on the edge of the counter, using it to support his weight, and half-turned to address her.
“If I can run you down in the woods, I can feed— What on Burden’s Earth are you wearing? ”
She stopped just short of touching him. Alashiya flushed to the roots of her hair. “It’s just a robe. I forgot to bring my clothes into the bathroom with me.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw his claws curl into the countertop. His tail began to swish slowly behind him.
“That’s not a robe,” he rumbled, hooking a single finger into the tassel that held the whole gauzy thing together to draw her closer. His nostrils flared with a deep, deep breath before he continued, “That’s bait.”
Alashiya shook her head, but she was nothing except pliant and trembling when Taevas pressed the length of his body against hers.
Considering what had happened the previous night, it was probably provocative, but for some reason, she opened her mouth anyway.
“It’s just a robe I made from some old fabric Mrs. Thompson didn’t want anymore. It’s not— No one’s ever—”
Taevas’s hand spanned the width of her back.
The heat of him blazed through the thin material of the garment like it wasn’t even there.
Hunching his body over hers, he pressed his lips to her ear.
“No one’s ever seen you wrapped up in shimmery gold like a pretty little present?
That must mean you’re a gift just for me. ”
Between one shuddering breath and the next, Taevas had her on the counter, her knee just kissing the corner of the cutting board. Alashiya yelped and grasped his shoulders. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be—”
A deep rumble cut her off. “You will not confine me to the nest any longer, naine.” The hair on the back of her neck rose.
The knowledge that he was dangerous — really, truly dangerous — danced like skilled fingers across every nerve.
“I’ve been forced to watch you swan in and out all day, so beautiful and maddening and indifferent to me.
If I must use what little strength I have to prove to you that you aren’t, then so be it. ”
Taevas slotted himself between her legs. Passing his hands up from her knees to the tops of her plush thighs, he whispered in her ear, “You didn’t answer me last night. Did you ever dream of Adon making you come, naine?”