Chapter 15 #2
A ragged moan escaped her, and she grasped his shoulders.
Stars. She was so fucking perfect.
“Part your legs,” he rasped.
“What?” A flush spread up her tan neck and face.
“I want to see you, vixen.” He ran his palms over her thighs and parted them. A neat strip of inky hair covered her sex.
He slid his fingers between her damp slit, and her own arousal slicked her core. He stroked her swollen clit, her wetness coating his fingers, and she whimpered. “Perfect—” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the chin, then her mouth. “Put your legs over my shoulders.”
She did not.
Instead, she grabbed his head and kissed him.
He growled, responding with the same intensity for a beat, then he pulled back.
“I fucking love your mouth on mine, Ash. Now, do as I asked.”
Caught in a surreal daze, Ash blinked, need coiling around her like a vise. But knowing Race, he could put an end to this in any second. She didn’t want that.
“Hook your legs over my shoulders,” he repeated, helping her along.
She braced her arms on the smooth, flat stone so she wouldn’t tip backward.
His warm, callused palm slid over her skin, stoking the flames of need higher and higher.
His gaze settled on her aching core again, and she was suddenly absurdly grateful for her religious waxing.
He slid his fingers through her slit again, then his mouth came down on her—his tongue parting her cleft and sliding through her slit, and she whimpered again. Then he lapped at her throbbing flesh as if it were cream before suckling on her aching clit, lighting up every nerve—
Christ. Ash arched off the boulder, pressing her core into his mouth. He cupped her bottom and held her there.
“Yesss,” he growled against her flesh, and she shuddered. “Take what you want from me, vixen. You taste fucking amazing.”
He moved his hand over her stomach as he licked between her folds, suckled one lip, then the other.
God. She panted, grabbing his hair, need winding her tight as a bloody spring.
He pushed a finger into her, and she whimpered.
He brushed her clit with his thumb and slid a second finger in; she shuddered.
“I can just imagine it’s my cock pushing inside you. Would you like that, my little vixen?”
“Christ, yes!”
With a growl, he sucked her clit, working her harder and faster with his fingers and tongue. Then sealed his mouth over her clit and tugged.
She cried out, her orgasm crashing over her.
Panting hard, Ash stared at him, still wedged between her thighs. He pressed soft kisses along her inner thighs, his silver hair loosened by her hands, his burgundy eyes dark with desire. Right then, he was the epitome of a predator. It was dangerous and thrilling all at once, and she wanted more.
“Better?” he rasped, his voice like miles of gravel.
Ash swallowed hard. How the hell did he know she’d been strung so tight?
She nodded. “Let me take care of you—”
A smile tugged at his sinful mouth, his lightly tanned face a little flushed. “Vixen, watching you come apart is all I need for now. Have your swim. We must go soon. The others await.”
He kissed her inner thigh again, then waded off, stepping on the shore, water dripping off his clothes as he disappeared around the boulders.
Ash sat there, trying to make sense of what just happened, not that she regretted anything. While he had eased her raging needs, what about him?
She swept back her damp hair with shaky hands, then slipped back into the water and grabbed her soap to finish her bath.
As she climbed out, she sighed. No clothes.
Carefully, she made her way around the rocks and found him standing near the edge of the rippling lake, his clothes already dry, cloak on again. Once dressed, she tied the laces of her boots as the question burned in her mind. “Why?”
He turned, so impossibly beautiful and equally remote once more. “Like I said, the claiming mark does that—stirs up sexual needs.”
Of course. He was just reacting to the bite. A biological imperative; nothing personal. She couldn’t forget that, could she?
Even as satiation still hummed through her, hollowness crept in, leaving her utterly alone. The bite on her neck throbbed, as if to remind her it meant nothing beyond safety.
She rose, put on her coat, and pulled the hood up. “I’m ready.”
As he crossed to her, Ash picked up the pack and hooked it on her shoulder. He drew her close, and she shut her eyes, not looking at him, as he dematerialized them.
They reformed somewhere on a slope, among enormous chunks of rock as if a mountain had exploded. Ash stepped back. In this part of the world, night had settled. Silver-barked trees loomed overhead, their pale canopies letting in cold moonlight through the sporadic gaps in the mist.
The sprawling town of Duskscale lay in the scooped-out foothills below. Buildings with rugged, charcoal roofs and darkened walls looked as if the last eruption never quite stopped. Smoke from slag-braziers drifted between crooked eaves.
The hum in the town as people went about their business drifted in the air.
Race stood near her, but unable to bear his closeness, Ash sat on a rock and waited, her mind churning, her body wound up tightly again.
Christ, this was ridiculous. Sexual attraction was one thing—instantaneous and usually gone once eased. But this pull between them—no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to shut it off.
With Paul, while she liked him, it had taken several weeks before she’d even agreed to go out with him. With Race, she’d lost all rational sense.
“Ash, about what you said back at the cave?” he said, pulling her attention to him. “Before I marked you. There are a lot of things you have wrong—”
“Like what?” The words were out before she could keep her defenses up and tell him to forget it, because dammit, a deeper part of her had to know.
“About not wanting—” His mouth tightened, his expression switching back to a mask. “The others approach.”
Wanting who? Me?
Disappointment flaring, Ash glanced at the foothills as three figures climbed up the slope toward them.
“All set,” Attor said, stopping near a looming rock opposite them. “Got us a few nights at Talonhold House.”
“You’ll see the truth soon,” Koal said, his jaw set. “It’s in every town, but worse in the non-shifters’ sector. I’m sorry you had to see our world in such a sad state, Ash. It was beautiful once.”
“Don’t apologize for Lemuria. Earth is messy too,” she murmured, glancing to the town below, where the darkened rooftops sporadically reflected what little moonlight they caught. “I’m sorry about the situation here, about the children being forced to work in the mines.”
“It’s why the Resistance perseveres,” Attor said, his voice tight. “We have to stop that usurper any way we can.”
Race stepped closer to her, causing Koal to step back. “Who gave you the brilliant idea that I was the fix for all of this?” Though his expression remained neutral, there was a faint edge to his voice. “You forget I have two brothers somewhere.”
Brothers? Ash frowned.
The men shifted uneasily.
“There’s something you should know…” Attor scrubbed his jaw. “After Caelvyrn fell, Drak and Aerrax…were captured.”
“So, they’re dead?”
Sorrow darkened Attor’s eyes. “Aye.”
Race turned toward the mist-veiled town below. Nothing showed on his impassive features, but his rigid stance spoke volumes. Ash wanted to hug him, yet she knew even that wouldn’t soften the raw grief he must feel.
“You’ve become one cold bastard,” Skaldr muttered, shifting against the boulder he used as support. “You just heard Drak and Aerrax are dead, and you couldn’t give a fuck about their demise?”
Race ignored him.
Oh, boy. There was a history between these two men, the knowledge settling deep in her bones. He hated Race, and yet he sought his help.
“We spent eons hiding when most of the Resistance fell,” Attor’s weary voice drew her attention. “Much was lost in the last uprising, all hope gone. Then a rumor reached us about Vargol. You remember him?”
Race glanced back, a flicker of surprise crossing his cool expression. “The half-blind ridge-hermit? The one said to be star-branded by the gods?”
“Aye, the same.” Attor smiled a little. “And famous for telling ravens to shut up.”
“I thought he was dead.”
“No, he’s been holed up in that snowy, wind-gnawed shrine above Bonedrift Pass.” He waved a hand toward the north. “After an age of silence, he finally spoke to us.” Attor’s voice lowered. “He gave us a prophecy that changed everything.”
Race’s expression settled back into implacable calm. “And what exactly did the old hermit say?”
“Only one born of this soil, blood-bound to the bedrock, can reclaim what was taken.” Attor’s gaze stayed fixed on Race.
“What does that mean?” Ash asked, her grip tightening on the straps of her pack. “Aren’t you all born on Lemuria?”
Attor’s gaze never left Race. “All dragonkin are born to the soil. Few are born to rule it.”
Ash frowned, trying to figure out what Attor meant. Then it all hit her—a hundred little details she should have noticed earlier—the way the others called him ‘sire’ and deferred to his decisions, even Skaldr, despite his bitter resentment.
“Wait-wait.” She pushed back her hood and rubbed her temples, her mind racing. “So, Race was exiled because he was a member of the Resistance and fought back, yes?”
Her gaze fixed on the hard-headed dragon who marked her, searching his handsome, expressionless features for answers. “But that’s not the whole truth, is it? Why are you the one who could bring down this usurper?”
“Oh, you sweet, innocent little mortal,” Skaldr drawled, pushing away from the rock, his amber eyes flat. “If only he’d remember who he once was. Your protector is the rightful ruler of Lemuria—the heir to the Ember Crown.”