Chapter 10 Zara #3
His shoulders eased, not giving in but gentling just a little. And when he kissed her, it wasn’t about control or urgency or proving anything. It was quiet, careful, and real. Two beings finally in the same place at the same time, wanting without rules or performance.
Zara tilted her head back, savoring the warmth of his kiss against her neck, but a frustrated sound formed in her chest. The wanting was there, yes, but the restraint in him was louder. It felt like whenever she pushed forward, he pulled back just enough to make her burn without release.
She slid her hands up his shoulders, fingers tracing the smooth mosaic of scales. He shuddered, but still held himself in careful control.
“This is…not good enough,” she murmured, half to herself.
He stilled. Slowly, he lifted his head, golden eyes studying her with maddening clarity. “You’re used to getting what you want fast,” he said quietly. “I can feel that about you.”
She crossed her arms, cheeks flushed, refusing to admit anything.
“But rushing doesn’t mean right,” he added.
Ugh. This Drakkon and his calm, rational tone. Who was he to slow her down when her whole body was finally buzzing, finally waking?
She huffed. “You know what else I’m good at?”
A brow ridge lifted.
“Deciding for myself.”
He exhaled a soft laugh, deep and warm. “I know. And I’m not trying to take that from you. I just want you to want more than heat.”
She blinked, thrown. “What else is there?”
“A choice made with a clear head. Not just instinct. Not just adrenaline. Something you walk toward, not crash into.”
She stared at him because she didn’t have a response. Because she had never once been asked to slow down. Not by anyone. Not ever.
He eased back, giving her space she didn’t ask for, or didn’t want. “You can kiss me again,” he said lightly. “But not to win an argument.”
She made a face. “You really ruin the mood.”
“Only the reckless part of it.”
She sighed and then leaned in. Not hungry, not proving anything, just curious, and when their lips met, the room didn’t tilt, the world didn’t shake. It steadied.
His breath hitched.
Oh…that’s what he meant.
When she pulled back, he was smiling in that infuriating, gentle way. “Better,” he murmured.
She didn’t want to admit it, but yes, it was. “Fine,” she muttered. “But I’m still not done kissing you.”
“I never said you had to be.”
There was no rush, no power game, just a shared slow burn, and somehow, that was more satisfying than any fire she’d ever chased. But she was still Zara. Still quick with her honesty, still unbothered by his careful pacing.
“I want your tail,” she said plainly.
His head jerked back. “What?”
“You heard me.” She didn’t blink. Didn’t stutter. “That time was a revelation. And I’ve wondered how good it could’ve been.”
He frowned, guilt sliding in like a shadow. “That wasn’t right. I took advantage.”
“Stop.” Her voice cut clean, no softness in it.
He went silent.
“I think you forgot what actually happened,” she said, steady, looking directly into those molten eyes. “I was a willing participant. It was my being okay with everything that started it all. Not you tricking me. Not you pushing.”
He opened his mouth, but she didn’t let him speak yet.
“No one gets to rewrite my choices. Not even you.”
Her words didn’t shake. Her gaze didn’t waver. She had been so unsure of so many things in her life, but not this, not her desire, not her agency.
He held her gaze, his breath slow and conflicted. She could almost see the arguments building behind his eyes, the ones about age, and experience, and responsibility. The noble ones that annoyed her to no end.
But he didn’t speak them.
Because she didn’t look away. Because she refused to be treated like something fragile or na?ve when she had known what she wanted from the moment she met him.
She leaned in, softer but still sure. “I wanted you then. I want you now. That hasn’t changed.”
His tail, coiled neatly around her, flicked once—sharp, involuntary, like her words had struck directly through his restraint.
He swallowed, voice lower. “I just…don’t want you to regret anything.”
“I don’t regret wanting you,” she said. “I regret you thinking you have to protect me from myself.”
She caught the moment something tipped in him. The heat and the hunger weren’t the surprise; those had been there before. But the edge of self-denial eased, just a fraction. He exhaled slowly. “You deserve someone who cares about more than the wanting.”
“Then why can’t it be you?” she asked.
Silence.
The scales along his jaw glimmered faintly, catching the light as if they were part diamond, part heartbeat. He reached up, cupping her cheek with care. “Maybe it could,” he finally said.
Her smile widened, triumphant but sincere. “Good. Because I wasn’t kidding about the tail.”
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Zara.”
“What,” she said, almost laughing. “I’m being honest.”
He shook his head, but there was amusement now, warmth softening his gaze. “I know,” he murmured. “That’s what terrifies me.”
She leaned in, brushing her lips against his cheek, light as a promise rather than a dare. “Then we’re even,” she whispered.
Because he terrified her too. Just not in a way she wanted to run from. She kissed him again. And she felt it instantly, how he released himself and met her with nothing but truth and hunger. Just him, present with her instead of protecting her from herself.
His hands slid to her waist and, with a single fluid motion, he lifted and repositioned her.
Not rough, not hurried, just effortlessly sure.
She landed astride him, breath catching.
Even now, even after everything, she couldn’t help being stunned by his strength.
It wasn’t a force that threatened her. It was one she trusted.
He would be gentle. He always would.
His mouth brushed her ear. “How are you able to do this to me?”
The words weren’t meant to be seductive, yet they undid her more than anything else had. Just the truth. She shivered, pulse jumping, excitement flooding through her so sharply it bordered on dizzy.
She cupped the back of his neck, lips trailing along the edge of his jaw. “Maybe,” she whispered, “you’re just not used to someone who wants you as much as you want them.”
His breath stuttered. Probably not because she was bold but because she was right. She felt the evidence of it in the way his grip tightened at her hips, in the slow exhale that escaped him like he’d forgotten how to hold it in.
He pulled back just enough to see her face, eyes molten and unguarded. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he said.
She smiled, a touch breathless, a touch victorious. “I think I do.”
He didn’t argue. Didn’t retreat behind logic or caution. When his lips pressed against hers, it wasn’t careful. It wasn’t restrained. It wasn’t an apology. It was want.
And Zara, feeling it all the way to her fingertips, melted into it, into him, shivering again, not from nerves or fear, but from the exhilarating certainty that he wanted her just as fiercely as she wanted him. And she didn’t have to ask again.
Not with words, not with clever teasing, not with the boldness she’d used before. The change in him was unmistakable now, solid and certain, a man who had stopped bracing and finally allowed himself to want.
And this was when she felt the difference between their ages. Not as a gap or as something uneven but as steadiness.
He moved with confidence, his touch and guiding hand were intentional and sure, not rushed or fumbling.
He was a storm contained and directed, focused entirely on her.
She wasn’t inexperienced, not really. But she had never been handled like that before: not claimed, not centered, not treated like her pleasure wasn’t accidental but the point.
And gods, she was swept away.
Her hands gripped his shoulders. Not to steady herself, but because she was afraid she might float right out of her body at the way he kissed her, slow then deep, his palm steady at her lower back, keeping her anchored.
He murmured something against her shoulder, low and reverent, and she felt heat curl through her so fast her breath hitched. She had never been so grateful to be out of her depth, to be held in the hands of someone who had lived longer, felt more, learned enough to be devastatingly intentional.
He pulled back just enough to see her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone, gaze warm and heavy on hers. “This feels right,” he said quietly.
They stayed like that for a while, kissing, whispering, touching without the urgency of the other time. It felt different now, deliberate and tender, like learning each other but in a room where there was no running, no pretending, no date to provoke jealousy, no spectacle to hide behind.
She shivered when his hands slid into her shorts, squeezing her butt.
He let out a low, half-amused sound against her neck. “No panties,” he muttered, more accusation than question.
“I am wearing them.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, brows drawn together, clearly reassessing everything he thought he knew. She laughed softly.
“Your face,” she teased.
He huffed. “If you were walking around like that—”
“What?” she challenged lightly, shifting closer and pressing her breasts against him, enjoying how easily she distracted him. “These are shorts, I don’t see the point of wearing extra layers to bed.”
She leaned in and kissed him before he could finish the grumble forming on his lips, stealing the complaint right out of his mouth. His response was immediate, a reluctant smile breaking through as his arms tightened around her.
Then, almost without warning, she felt his tail curling and brushing through her shorts, and against her clit in ways that made her gasp.
She tried to keep quiet, biting her lip, but the sensations were too much, each brush and press sending sparks through her body.
Her hands were on his shoulders, trying to ground herself, but it only made her more aware of how completely he had her.
The sounds she made were small, stifled moans, but they were enough to tell him exactly how she was feeling, and he responded instantly, moving with her, reading her every twitch and gasp.
Then, without warning, the tip started to vibrate, and everything tilted.
“Oh, you didn’t do that last time,” she panted against his lips.
“I’ve got more than one move,” he said before kissing her.
The warmth, the closeness, the steady rhythm of his tail on her clit crested all at once, too much and perfect and dizzying.
The room seemed to blur at the edges, sound stretching thin, her thoughts scattering like sparks.
She clutched at him as the sensation rolled through her, breath catching, vision going white.
For a heartbeat, she was nowhere at all, just feeling, before the world slipped gently out from under her and went dark. Zara found her chest rising too fast, trying to remember how to breathe like a person and not a firework.
“That’s…that’s going to be it, huh?” she mumbled into the warm column of his neck, still collecting her soul.
“Yes,” Hektor’s shoulders shook with a restrained laugh. “You’re welcome.”
She wanted to return the favor but guessed it would be a losing effort. For now. “Don’t expect me to go back to my room.”
He shifted, just enough for her to see the amused crease at his brow. “What about Liora?”
“She wasn’t back yet when I left my room,” Zara muttered, then poked his ribs. “And she won’t wonder.”
“She won’t?” His tone was half-skeptical, half-hopeful.
Zara finally lifted her chin, smug. “She knows exactly where I’d be.”
His answering grin was slow and lethal, the kind that made her stomach free-fall in the very best way. Without another word, he scooped an arm under her knees and lifted, carrying her the short distance to the bed. The sheets were cool, but the pillow scented unmistakably of him, clean and sharp.
“The pillows smell like you,” she murmured.
Hektor settled on his side, one arm looping around her waist, pulling her in until she fit perfectly along him. “I know something that smells better,” he said, his tone far too composed for someone teasing.
She giggled, unable to help it, and shoved at his chest half-heartedly. He didn’t move an inch, just tucked her nearer, his chin resting atop her head like it belonged there.
“This is a nice perk,” she whispered, voice already slipping toward sleep.
He brushed his thumb along her hip. “It’s not a perk. It’s just…us.”
And Zara, wrapped in him and his steady heartbeat, felt very, very okay with that.