14. Chapter Fourteen #5
Yet the doubts lingered. My chest tightened as the memory of Colin’s death resurfaced.
I could still see it through Drake’s eyes, feel the raw fury coursing through him as he tore Colin apart.
I knew it was self-defense—justice, even—but the fact that I was smitten with the man who had so brutally killed someone unsettled me.
I cursed myself for the thought; yet another part of me whispered that Colin deserved it.
He had tried to hurt me, and if Drake hadn’t been there…
A shudder ran through me. The sounds of Colin’s flesh ripping and bones snapping reverberated in my ears, overlapping with the horrifying screams from the underground city in my vision.
The child’s severed head tumbling across the blood-soaked ground flashed before my eyes, and I flinched.
My hands gripped the edge of Drake’s cloak tightly as if grounding myself in the present could silence the horrors in my mind.
It didn’t. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head violently, willing the images to fade.
Nothing worked. My heart pounded in my chest, and my stomach churned with unease.
“I should sleep,” I said suddenly, my voice breaking the stillness. Sleep was my only escape, though I knew it would come with its own form of torment.
Drake’s gaze shifted to me. He nodded once, his expression unreadable. “We all should,” he agreed, glancing at Felix. The healer rose, stretching his small frame before murmuring a soft goodnight.
Drake remained seated for a moment longer, his eyes locked on the fire. I wondered if his mind haunted him like mine did. He finally stood, brushing the dirt from his leathers.
“Goodnight, Evandra,” he said quietly, his deep voice a calming rumble. For a moment, I thought he might say more, but he only turned and walked to his tent.
“Goodnight,” I whispered after him, though I wasn’t sure he heard me.
The silence of the forest felt oppressive now.
The warmth of the fire no longer comforted me, and the shadows it cast seemed too alive.
I wrapped the cloak tighter around myself, inhaling his familiar scent as I made my way to my tent.
I eased myself down onto my bedroll, my body protesting after the long day of riding.
My joints ached, my shoulder throbbed, but I was relieved to find that the bedroll, though modest, offered more comfort than I expected.
It was just a simple layer of stuffed pelts on the hardened ground, but it cradled me enough to take the edge off the day’s fatigue.
My eyes were heavy, but my mind refused to quiet.
The fire’s glow still flickered through the seams, but its warmth felt distant, like the home I’d left behind.
I lay on my back, staring at the dim ceiling of my tent, breathing in the crisp, pine-scented air that filtered through the fabric.
Outside, the forest was alive. The soft rustle of leaves in the night breeze, the chirping of crickets, and the occasional hoot of an owl created a symphony of wilderness.
I closed my eyes, trying to lose myself in the sounds, but my thoughts were louder.
I sighed deeply and closed my eyes, hoping for sleep to take me. Even if it meant falling into another nightmare, it had to be better than the waking horrors playing endlessly in my mind.
Then, I heard it—soft footsteps outside my tent.
My breath caught, and I froze. My heart raced.
Was it the King’s men? Had they found us?
Every nerve in my body was on high alert, and I held my breath, praying I’d misheard.
The steps grew closer, and the flaps of my tent rustled.
My heart thudded painfully in my chest as a shadowed figure emerged.
Drake.
The tension in my body loosened when I saw his face, his shirtless frame bathed in the faint moonlight that spilled through the entrance. Before I could speak, he brought a finger to his lips, motioning for silence. The sight of him stole what little breath I had left.
“It’s just me,” he whispered, his deep voice soft and reassuring as he knelt beside me. His presence filled the small space of the tent, commanding it entirely. “How are you feeling?” His tone was quiet but warm, filled with concern.
I propped myself up on my good elbow, trying to read his expression in the darkness.
“Fine, considering,” I murmured. I wanted to ask why he was here, but something about his demeanor stopped me. His nearness sent my senses into overdrive, clouding my thoughts.
Drake didn’t respond immediately. He sat back slightly, his massive silhouette barely discernible in the dimness.
“I left my mother to join the Uprising many years ago,” he said after a long pause.
His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability I hadn’t heard before.
“I remember how difficult it was. I imagine you’re going through something similar. ”
I blinked at the sudden intimacy of his words. My voice wavered. “Yeah. It’s not easy.”
“No,” he agreed. Silence fell between us again, heavy but not uncomfortable.
“Can’t sleep?” I ventured, my voice barely louder than a breath.
He shifted closer, his knees brushing the edge of my bedroll. “Something like that,” he murmured. Then, to my surprise, he lifted his hand and gently brushed his fingers against my cheek. The unexpected tenderness of the gesture sent a shiver down my spine.
“You’ve already saved lives today,” he said, his thumb grazing my lower lip in a way that made my breath hitch. My heart pounded, and I was sure he could hear it. His hand lingered, warm and firm against my skin, sending tingles down my spine.
I… I’m happy to help,” I stammered, my voice trembling under the weight of his gaze.
The way he looked at me made my thoughts scatter, his silver eyes intense yet unreadable.
I wondered if he’d been as consumed by the memory of last night as I had been.
Was that why he was here? His nearness made my skin flush, and my lips tingled where his thumb had just brushed.
I wondered if he was here because he couldn’t stop thinking of last night either.
He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing mine in the quiet darkness.
I held my breath as his hand cupped the side of my face, his touch firm yet gentle.
The moment his lips pressed fully against mine, a blaze ignited within me, spreading warmth from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head.
His kiss was soft at first, testing and exploring, but it quickly grew deeper and more urgent.
I raised my hand to his face, the stubble on his cheek scratching against my palm. I held him there as though he might vanish if I let go. His weight shifted, and he laid down beside me, his body aligning with mine, every point of contact sending sparks through me.
His hand trailed from the nape of my neck to my shoulder, then down to my waist, pulling me flush against him.
The heat of him, the press of his lips, the scrape of his teeth—it was intoxicating.
He tilted my head gently, guiding my lips open to meet his.
I felt his breath, hot and uneven, as his tongue swept across mine, igniting sensations I’d never known.
A soft sound escaped me, and he responded with a low, primal growl that sent shivers cascading down my spine.
“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice rough and husky against my ear.
“Gods, yes,” I whispered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
His lips captured mine again, this time with more fervor.
One hand tangled itself in my hair, tugging just enough to make my scalp tingle, while the other moved deliberately over my waist and up to my chest. He kneaded the curve of my breast over the thin cotton of my dress, and my body arched instinctively into his touch.
After a moment, his calloused fingers dipped under the fabric and found my bare skin.
When his rough palm grazed over the sensitive peak of my breast, I gasped against his mouth.
He pinched it gently, rolling it between his fingers, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
His lips left mine to trail down my neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against my skin as his kisses grew more insistent.
I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.
My hands fisted in his shirt, tugging hard, pulling him closer until the thin fabric slid upward. I shoved it over his shoulders in one frantic motion, desperate for more of him, for the heat of his skin against mine.
And then I froze.
The firelight caught along the ridges of his chest—not scars, not skin. Scales. Crimson, faintly iridescent, fanning across his chest and shoulders, running down the cut of his biceps like molten armor.
I gasped. My fingers hovered, then brushed the hardened texture, tracing the ridges in awe. “What?—?”
His jaw flexed, but instead of answering, his mouth kept moving down my throat as though nothing had changed. I shivered as my fingertips slid over the plates, unable to stop tracing them.
“Be careful touching me like that.” His voice was low, ragged, when he finally pulled back just enough to speak.
“What are you?” I whispered, breathless, as his teeth grazed my earlobe.
“Dragonblood.” Just one word, muttered like a confession.
Before I could even begin to process it, his lips returned to my neck, his teeth scraping, his heat overwhelming. He eased me onto my back, hands trailing down to my hips, pulling me under.
I moaned at our contact. He paused—just for a breath—as if collecting himself, before brushing his lips down my throat.
The sound that left him was half-growl, half-groan.
“Shhh… we don’t want to wake Felix,” he teased, his grin evident even in the darkness.
It was a smile I hadn’t seen. He was no longer hiding behind his toughened facade. This smile was genuine. Sweet.
The ache between my thighs grew unbearable.
I shifted, trying to get closer, to feel more of him, but my bedroll constricted me.
I kicked at it frantically until I was free, earning a quiet laugh from him.
He rolled onto his side to face me, the darkness softening the hard lines of his face.
His hair fell over one shoulder, brushing my cheek as he leaned in again.
This time, his kiss was slower, more deliberate, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of my lips.
“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Evandra,” the sound of my name rolling off his lips was divine.
“I just can’t stay away from you,” he whispered into the crook of my neck as his hand drifted down my side, tracing the curve of my waist and hip before slipping under the hem of my dress.
His fingers grazed my bare thigh, and he paused, letting out an uneven breath.
“May I?” he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper but filled with raw hunger.
I nodded, unable to form words. My head was reeling.
His fingers slid higher, exploring until they found the wetness pooling between my thighs.
His touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through me as he massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center.
I gasped, biting my lower lip to suppress the moan that threatened to escape.
“Gods,” he groaned, his lips brushing against my ear as his free hand returned to my breast, kneading and teasing.
Each stroke of his fingers built a fire in my core, a tension that tightened with every movement.
When he slipped two thick fingers inside me, I gasped again, this time louder.
He stilled for a moment, letting me adjust to the stretch before beginning a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Pleasure rippled through me, and my hips moved instinctively to meet his thrusts. His thumb circled my sensitive bud in perfect time with his fingers, drawing me closer and closer to the edge. My breathing grew ragged, my hands clutching at his shoulders as I tried to hold on.
I looked at him with desperation, and he knew my completion neared.
The tension in my body snapped, and I fell over the edge, my walls spasming around his fingers as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over me.
I bit down on my lip to muffle the cry that tore from my throat, but he clapped a hand over my mouth just in time, silencing me completely.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice tinged with awe as he slowed his movements, drawing out my release. His fingers left me, and I whimpered at the loss, my body still trembling.
He lay back beside me, his chest rising and falling heavily. I turned my head to look at him, my lips curling into a satisfied smile. “That was nice,” I said breathlessly, unable to articulate the depth of what I felt.
“Yeah… totally,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that lopsided grin I was quickly falling in love with.