Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
“I very well can,” he rasped. “Don’t take it from me. If I cause you pain–”
I silenced his doubts and fears with a kiss. Fierce. Reassuring. Whatever Eldeiade did to him, I had the rest of our lives to undo—one night at a time.
When I pulled back, I met his gaze. “Kallias, I am the Dragon’s Heart. You cannot hurt me.”
He stared, brow furrowed, digesting my words.
“Now,” I whispered, “kiss me.”
Something broke free behind his expression, reigniting the heat and need.
He spun me toward the bed and let me fall. I bounced once, and his stare ravaged every inch of me as he prowled forward.
“My queen,” he growled, “I have every intention of kissing you.” He lifted my gown, kissed my knee, then pressed my foot into the mattress. “And devouring you. Tonight and tomorrow.”
My hands clenched the sheets as he shifted the garment higher, nipping my thigh.
His scruff grazed sensitive skin. “And the day after.”
My breath stuttered, body trembling, and I reached for him. He crawled up, settling between my legs. I whimpered beneath the weight of him. His mouth met mine in a kiss that depicted desperation. His tongue moved with slow intent, hips grinding to match his tempo.
A growl escaped me, and I hooked my toes in his waistband, shoving his trousers down. They caught on his backside. He chuckled against my lips.
“Easy,” he murmured, fingers fumbling with his buckle.
I arched beneath him, hands clutching his sides, eager for relief I wasn’t sure how to get. Lust poured through me, hot and demanding.
“We can be easy another night,” I gasped. I pushed his trousers off with a breathless laugh.
He caught my thigh, pinning me in place. “Slow down, Nienna,” he breathed, lids clenched and teasing gone as the fabric snagged on his boots. “We have time.”
My nails bit into his shoulders, drawing a grimace from him. His gaze snapped open with a snarl, hands tightening on my thighs. I hooked my legs around his back, hauling his hips between mine. A gasp rocked through me. Hunger, needy and insistent, burned through every nerve.
There was no slowing, no pushing desire aside. He asked that we take our time, but our bodies didn’t listen, driven to give in to the fire building between us. A flickering spark born of duty and respect now roared into a blaze, wild and consuming.
It was not drawn out, or gentle. It was a man and a woman, boundaries razed, giving in to something base and long denied. Rushed, frantic movements, private moans of pleasure—it was my first time with a man.
And I gave it to the right one.
Argos’ roar rumbled in the distance, followed by a sharp chirp from Tsunami. Sunlight spilled through the windows, drawing a warm glow across the sheets. I overslept.
Why hadn’t Freya woken me?
Then the ache between my thighs brought it all crashing back to me. My skin flushed, and a slow smile tugged my lips.
Kallias lay beside me, an arm draped over his eyes. His naked chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths, sheets pooling low at his hips. One hand was shoved under the fabric at his lap, and a bare foot caught the morning light.
When did we take his boots off?
My gaze lingered on his arm—tanned skin stretched tight over corded veins. I tilted my head, curiosity tugging. What exactly was that hand doing under there? My smirk returned as I shifted onto my side.
Kallias lurched, diving off the bed. His grasp flew under the pillow as the sheet chased his legs—ripping it off my body.
I yelped, jerking upright as he thudded to the floor.
Then silence.
“Kallias?”
A groan answered. I crawled to the edge, dropping to my belly to peek down at him. He sprawled in a tangle of limbs and sheets, eyes squeezed shut.
“I daresay it’ll take some time adjusting to having someone in my bed,” he rasped, voice groggy with sleep.
My hair fell over my shoulder as I laughed, the long waves draping down to tease his bare skin. “Not the same as waking up with Greaves?”
He cracked an eye. “We’ve never shared a bed.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, sitting up. “I’ve never shared a bed.”
Did he want to?
He held me close last night, breath soft and hot against my neck, long after need had ebbed. If he hadn’t wanted to stay, he wouldn’t have. I would’ve seen the hesitation.
A knock froze us both.
We turned in unison, wide-eyed, staring down the door. Me, bare from head to toe. Him, disheveled on the floor. One nudge and whoever stood behind the wood would get an eyeful.
“Kal?”
“We’re fine, Greaves!” he snapped.
With a smirk, I crawled off the mattress, tying my hair into a knot as I strode across the room.
“Sun above, woman.”
His voice drew my attention, and I peered over my shoulder, catching his head over the edge of the bed. His hair stuck up on one side, but his eyes were locked on my rear. I grinned and added a little sway as I padded into the bathing chamber.
He let me bathe in peace, despite longing for him. There would be plenty of times to make use of the tub, but routine grounded him. This was as new to him as it was to me. I had no years of solitude to break. He did. It would take time to unlearn them.
When I stepped from the bath, he leaned against the doorway.
I wrung my hair, water dripping back into the tub. “Like what you see, dear king?”
His gaze smoldered. Fully dressed, the picture of control. The man was nothing if not efficient.
“I think I do.” His voice curled low. “Careful. Kings tend to take what they want.”
The memory of a similar warning on the balcony surfaced. Then, he hadn’t dared act. Neither had I. Now? That world had burned. We stood in the ash of it, remade.
I pulled my dress over my head, fabric cool against damp flesh. After tugging it into place, I gave him a backward glance. “Could you?”
He pushed off the wall, a slow prowl. Fingers brushed my lower back, light as a breath. He took his time lacing the gown. When he reached my shoulders, he nipped my skin—then kissed away the hurt.
When his lips found my neck, heat pulsed low in my belly. I swayed, aching.
But he only tied off the final cord.
“Be calm,” he whispered, his hips nudging against my backside. His breath stayed steady, measured, but his body betrayed his calm composure.
Then he retreated, walking into our room without a glance.
I needed a moment to breathe, to pull the storm inside me into a bottle, to pretend I wasn’t seconds away from removing my dress for a repeat of last night. Once the air around me cooled, I followed him.
He stood over his mantle, fingers trailing over the golden links. He glanced at me, jaw set. A silent question lingered in his eyes.
Besides Greaves, had anyone helped him don it?
I let my hair fall wet against my back, nudging him aside. I lifted it with care, though its weight felt disjointed. Awkward and heavy. Not an easy thing to place on anyone, but with his help, I managed to settle it across his shoulders.
He said nothing, working his jaw as I fastened the clasps. Knowing his thoughts were churning and not being privy to them was a new form of torture.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
He blinked, looking down at my hands. “Aside from Greaves and my parents, no one has placed the mantle on me.”
A pleasant flush warmed my cheeks, and I bit back my smile. This moment was mine. Something Eldeiade never touched.
I clipped the last chain, and he caught my hand. Lifting it, he pressed a kiss to my knuckles—silent thanks.
Then, he picked up my mantle.
It was lighter than his, shaped to move with me. Still, how the gilded scales draped felt as if they’d slip off any moment. The chains swayed, brushing my breasts, and his fingers skimmed my chest, deliberate and slow, stoking the fire inside me.
Such a simple act. One that would be part of our daily life—and yet it was intimate. Private. This was just as significant as consummating our marriage. A quiet, sacred thing. A vow spoken without words.
This wasn’t only routine.
This was ours. A symbol of our future. Together.
“Tasks for today?” I asked after braiding my hair and lacing my boots.
“I need to be briefed by Fallione, visit my captain at the docks, speak to a noble—was his name Elek?—and, most importantly, have a meeting with my queen.”
My fingers paused on the boot’s final loop. Brows arched. “Oh? What business requires her attention, dear king? Something you need to discuss?”
“Words won’t be needed,” he said, adjusting the chains across his overcoat. “But I expect her here by midday.”
“And if she has prior commitments?”
“Then I suppose a private beach or closet will suffice.”
I smothered a grin and leaned back on the bed, ankles crossed. “I’ll be in the library until our appointment, then.”
“Libraries are dangerous places.”
“Agreed. I might need a king to rescue me.”
“I could be persuaded to hold the meeting there.” His eyes caught mine in the mirror—hot, merciless. Heat pooled beneath my skin, memory of last night flickering like flame.
A knock scattered the moment.
I rose with a sigh and answered. Greaves waited in the hall, his gaze darting past me. A silver-haired man lingered just behind, his expression soft—so unlike the guard’s ever-present scowl.
“Until our meeting,” I called, stepping into the corridor.
“What meeting?” Fallione asked.
I couldn’t stop the grin edging into place as I strode into the hall.
The morning passed in the library, sorting travel plans with my mother. Endless details. We only had one boat capable of carrying a dragon. It needed inspection—and likely repair—before our return to Radaan.
The Dragon Ship straddled innovation. With a bow and stern like any other, it had a flat, wide center for dragons to rest. Only a small few were the right size to both tow the ship, and fit mid-deck.
Radaan’s crew would need to transfer aboard alongside Draconis Vessels. Assembling them would take time, and that task fell to Mother and me.
Near midday, Gertrude, the cook, sent a servant to me.
“She says it’s about the bean tea, Your Grace.”
Mother looked up from her list. Daylight struck her silvering hair, casting a soft glow. “Bean tea?”
“Tell her I’ll be there shortly.” I stretched my arms above my head, easing the knots in my spine as the servant bowed and took her leave. “It’s a Radaanian drink,” I explained.
“They steep beans instead of herbs?” Heavy skepticism laced her tone.
“Something like that.” I shrugged, laughing it off. “See you at dinner.”
“You’re leaving so soon?”
“I have a meeting.”
“With whom?”
“Kallias.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. After a moment, she dropped her gaze to her papers, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I hope it goes well for you.”
I spiraled down the Cireendium staircase to the kitchen. Warm scents rose—rich broths, fresh bread. The air thickened with steam from bubbling pots. Laughter and clattering metal echoed through the kitchens.
“Nienna—Your Majesty!” Gertrude waved me over, her apron dusted with flour. She bowed, then pulled a small sack from her pocket. “These were tucked behind the pantry. Are they your beans?”
I took the bag, ran my thumb across the faded lettering. ‘Kahve’ stood out in half-smudged print.
“Yes! These are the beans!”
“This note was with them.” She unfolded a scrap of paper. “It says to sweeten and serve with cream. Cuts the acidity.”
“Can you brew it?”
“I’ll have it in a blink!” She pressed a pastry into my hand. “You must be starving after last night.”
I choked on a laugh.
She paled, flushing crimson. “Oh—no disrespect intended! I just meant… you didn’t eat much at dinner.”
Biting back a grin to capture my mirth, I took the treat with a nod and let her retreat in peace.
Apples filled the crisp—tart and sweet. The sugar on top crunched between my teeth. Its buttery crust reminded me of Radaan and all the different meals there. I wondered what Kallias made of our food. Compared to the continent, Draconia’s dishes were humble—simple in taste.
Moments later, Gertrude returned with a mug, steam curling above the rim.
The liquid wasn’t dark like it should’ve been. Instead, it held a soft, milky hue. Familiar scent—earthy and sharp—rose from the cup, tempered by a hint of sweetness.
With a thank-you, I carried it to our rooms, eager to share it with him.
He sat at the desk, papers fanned in disarray.
“You’re late,” he grumbled as I shut the door. He didn’t look up, only separated one sheet from the rest and set it aside.
“For good reason,” I said, settling on the desk’s edge.
He glanced at the mug, frowning as he shuffled through another stack. “One moment.”
I stayed quiet, inching my knee toward his. The front panel of my dress slipped between my legs, revealing pale leggings. His hand found my thigh, hooked it closer, fingers firm as he continued sorting.
Inventories. Schedules. Rough maps and half-scrawled dates.
At last, he sighed and leaned back. “Now. What is it you have for me?”
“Kahve.” I grinned, holding the cup out.
He looked into the mug like it held poison. “Perhaps it’s better to keep the drink in Radaan.”
“No.” I laughed. “The cook found a proper bag this time. That other batch was steeped with beans from your ship.”
“You made tea from black beans.” He grimaced, then shuddered. “That should be considered treason.” He sniffed the drink’s contents, swirled it. “Kahve’s not usually so pale.”
“Gertrude found a note. Says it’s best with cream and honey.”
“Did you try it?”
My brows pulled together. “I’ve never liked it to begin with.”
“For your sake, then.” He sighed and took a sip.
He held it in his mouth. Swished once. Swallowed slowly. His lips smacked. “It is… different.”
“Do you like it?” I asked, heart sinking when he set it down.
“It’s kahve, but not to my taste.” His hand squeezed my thigh. “Other things are.”
He shoved the chair back, legs braced wide. His hands settled heavy on his thighs as hunger darkened his gaze.
“As queen, your dresses will influence the court.” His voice thickened, husky and low. “Hard to believe that slit’s practical for a farming nation. Unless you aim to set every man ablaze with raging lust.”
“No dragons to ride in Radaan?” I parted my legs, letting the dress spill between them. His eyes roamed the fabric, but it might as well have been sheer. That look could have burned through dragonscale.
“Not a one. I’m told Radaanian’s are not permitted to sit astride dragons.”
“And husbands?”
His brows pulled together. “Pardon?”
I slid off the desk and straddled him, legs bracketing his hips. “Are women not permitted to ride their husbands?”
His eye twitched. Blinked fast. “I’m not sure that’s what the skirts are cut for.”
“I best experiment,” I whispered, guiding his hands to my rear. “A queen never leads her people where she isn’t brave enough to go.”
His touch slid beneath my dress.
And I arched into him, ready to lead.
Draconis dresses were in fact fit to ride, be it husbands or dragons.