Chapter Thirty-Nine
Terrea had refused to wake up from her nap, and Aemyra had been forced to retreat when the dragon had snapped her massive jaws.
Thankfully, with the mental link firmly in place, Aervor had tolerated Aemyra on his back and she had settled herself in front of Fiorean.
The male was slighter than Terrea, his withers narrower, but Aemyra felt safe in Fiorean’s hold, the flight generating a much-needed breeze across their overheated skin.
“Terrea’s growing more erratic,” Fiorean muttered into her ear.
“Consistent with human women close to their time,” Aemyra explained. “I don’t think it will be long until she nests.”
Worrying that it would happen during the battle for Edinbane, Aemyra was quiet.
“Terrea has survived for almost two centuries, and went unnoticed for the last fifty years. She can take care of herself,” Fiorean said.
“But wh—”
“You don’t even want to use the dragons. We have the Balnain fleet, the phoenixes, the chimeras, and your foot soldiers. This is a battle we can win.”
Fiorean sounded confident, but Aemyra wasn’t so sure.
“The insurgent non-Dùileach have rallied under Laird Lorna’s banners and together with the Covenanters they outnumber my army by at least two thousand men,” Aemyra said.
When Fiorean didn’t answer, she tried to put it from her mind and relax into the flight.
Aervor flew differently from Terrea. His head and neck were far larger and he compensated with stronger strokes from his wings. It made for a soothing rhythm.
She rubbed her hands up Fiorean’s strong forearms, tucking them tighter around her waist.
“You need to speak with my father this week. I won’t have any of you go into battle holding a grudge,” she replied.
“It will take longer than a week for us to get over our dislike of each other,” Fiorean muttered into her hair. “He killed my brother.”
“Then shelve your dislike until after we win this war. Afterward, I’ll give you both leave to knock lumps out of each other until you are satisfied.”
She felt Fiorean huff a laugh into her hair. “Can my mother have a go? She seems to have something of a personal vendetta against him.”
Aemyra’s lips quirked. “I’d have to tie my father’s hands behind his back and his feet together for Katherine to win that fight.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “And a blindfold.”
The rippling waters of the Smàrag Sea passed underneath them as Aervor left the land behind. Leaning back into the warmth of Fiorean’s chest, Aemyra felt Terrea linger in her consciousness from leagues away.
The mental link between the four of them had been growing stronger over the last few days. In the moments between waking and sleep, Aemyra often struggled to remember who she was.
“I wish we knew more about this mental link, if it will linger after the laying,” Aemyra said as Fiorean trailed kisses down the back of her neck.
Fiorean answered, “When we take Caisteal Lasair back, we will devote our time to learning. As well as other things.”
His voice deepened as his hand snuck into the waistband of her breeches.
A small gasp passed her lips, and Fiorean dipped his fingers lower, stroking, searching. “A ghràidh…” he muttered.
It might have been the knowledge that they were about to fight two battles in quick succession, but Aemyra needed her husband desperately. Needed to know he was fully, truly alive, that she was alive.
Their plan could fail, and there was every possibility that they were marching toward their death.
“Fiorean…” she whispered, her voice utter desperation.
Her husband needed no more encouragement as their tightly constrained magic slipped and flames surged from all points of contact.
The moment Fiorean’s lips touched her skin, Aervor shuddered underneath them and Aemyra ceased being solely human. Her Bond to Terrea flickered until the mental link burst open, rendering them all nothing more than hands, wings, limbs, and claws.
Blaming it on Terrea’s nesting hormones and the seasonal summer surge, Aemyra was unable to resist the flow of magic rushing through her blood.
Fiorean’s hands looped around her waist, keeping her steady and secure as Aervor flew and Aemyra fought against the feelings rising inside of her.
“I know. I know. Let it happen, a ghaoil,” Fiorean muttered against the shell of her ear.
Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, she arched against her husband as his hands pulled her shirt free of her breeches. Intense heat gathered between her legs, and Fiorean’s deft fingers skimmed up her stomach to cup her swollen breasts.
His kisses turned to delicious nips and the sharp pain had her nipples peaking against his hands as he rolled his thumbs lazily over the taut buds. Her shirt flapped against her overheated skin as the dragon underneath them skimmed the clouds as lazily as his Dùileach’s hands.
“Fiorean, please,” she begged.
The intensity of the pleasure coiling at her core had her seeking out the only friction she could find.
Aervor’s scales were hard between her legs, and Aemyra undulated against them even as Fiorean’s hands kneaded her heated skin, muttering filthy words in the Seann.
Tipping her head back to rest on his shoulder, her hair spilling down his back, she felt him hardening against her buttocks.
His arm wrapped over her chest, holding her flush against him as he continued palming her breast in a way that left her panting.
“Fiorean,” she gasped, his name whipped out of her mouth and scattered on the wind.
Fiorean teased her nipples to the point of pain, and Aemyra found herself lost in a place between worlds and minds. His right hand dipped into her breeches, fingers seeking out exactly where she wanted to be touched, and she groaned loudly.
“That’s it, Aemyra,” Fiorean whispered, his fingers slipping between her thighs with little effort. “This is how it feels to know you are the queen making it possible for dragon eggs to return to the world.”
Fiorean held her body immobile as she was lost to everything besides the touch of his hands. She didn’t want to come back into her body, didn’t want to have to think about what awaited her on the other side of this flight.
Fiorean increased the pressure of his circles against her clit, and Aemyra forgot herself completely. When she next opened her eyes, her vision was filled with nothing but glinting cerulean scales and the sensation of being held between a prince and a dragon.
Fiorean slipped two fingers deep inside of her and she pressed her buttocks against his erection, needing more.
His fingers pumped into her rhythmically, and she felt the insides of her thighs grow slick.
“I’m so proud of you, Aemyra,” Fiorean whispered in her ear, his cock straining behind her. “My beautiful wife.”
The sound of her name on his lips was what broke her. Rippling shock waves cascaded from the center of her body, pulling her into an intense orgasm that refused to fade. Terrea roared through the Bond and Aervor flew faster, arrowing through the sky as if he were chasing the sun itself.
Instead of sating the flush of feelings, Aemyra needed more.
Thankfully, Fiorean was far from finished.
He pushed her forward, bending her knee to free one leg from her breeches, and settled her between the largest spikes on Aervor’s neck. Exposed to her husband and the air, Aemyra should have felt vulnerable, but she had never felt more powerful.
With her magic coursing through her, shared between two dragons and her husband, it felt like touching the divine.
Thankfully wearing his fèileadh, Fiorean lifted the wool, sank his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips, and slid her back onto his cock.
Aemyra clutched the spikes in front of her as Fiorean entered her. Balanced on Aervor’s back, Fiorean let her arch into him as she lowered herself down onto the bulbous head, her slit already soaked from her pleasure.
He pushed into her with an agonizing slowness that had her needing more.
Her moans were kindling to his fire.
As her head swirled between one consciousness and the next, Fiorean lost his grip on his own magic and the two became wreathed in flame atop the dragon.
“You were made for me, Aemyra,” he ground out as his cock sank deeper into her. “You’re the perfect fucking fit.”
Aemyra leaned forward, allowing Aervor’s scales to press against her clit and give her the friction she so desperately needed.
Fiorean growled as he thrust into her. “You are mine.”
Aemyra groaned, having to clutch the spikes on Aervor’s neck to stop herself from falling off. Her legs were shaking as she braced herself on his back, Fiorean claiming her from behind.
Aemyra felt herself quickening in a way she never had before.
Like a pot left too long on the boil, Aemyra was about to spill over when she felt her core tightening.
Fiorean was slowly coming undone behind her and she had a feeling that he was trying to hold back until she had found her pleasure again.
“You look fucking beautiful like this,” Fiorean ground out, his voice coming from far away, and she knew instinctively that his dragon’s consciousness was bleeding into his own. She felt as though she could fling herself from Aervor’s back and soar on wings of her own.
When Fiorean thrust her against Aervor’s rough scales, Aemyra found herself entering a realm of pleasure she had never imagined. As she felt his seed spurt deep inside of her, she was still spiraling, convulsing around his cock.
Aemyra flew through her magic, a dragon’s roar erupting from her mouth.
Lingering in a space that didn’t exist, all she could see was their merging flames as the pleasure faded, ancient magic binding them, singing their blood alive.
With shaking hands and fragile awareness, Aemyra and Fiorean knew something had changed between them, something unalterable.
Aemyra gripped her husband fiercely, half-dressed and thoroughly ravaged.
As the clouds kissed her cheeks, feeling like she was taking back the reins of control, Aemyra thumbed the crystal hanging around her neck.
“There’s something we have to do,” she said as her husband’s arms cradled her against him.
“I’m listening, my queen.”