Chapter XXVI Lela #2
“No one needs more than one house,” I stated with annoyance. “Especially a second or third or fourth one this large.”
“Why are you so angry?” he asked.
I huffed a breath in frustration and faced him. He’d dressed in a short blue tunic. “Because you were born with so many advantages, while others like me had nothing. It isn’t fair.”
He crossed his arms, but remained unflustered while I obviously was. “You were born with great beauty and powerful magic. How is that fair to others who don’t have what you have?”
Crossing my arms, mirroring his defiant stance, I grew angrier, not knowing what to say.
When I refused to acknowledge he had a point, he added, “You’re right.
I have much wealth. My family has great power among the people.
Even if Caesar is trying to take that all away.
Even if he’s dissolved the senate, he cannot take away our family’s history.
And when we kill the fucking bastard, I’ll use my wealth and my family’s station to help create a new, just Rome. ”
“A just Rome? What does that look like to you?”
“One where plebs and patricians aren’t killed indiscriminately. One where we aren’t waging war against foreign lands and taking everything from them. One where all Romans can live a life unfettered and free.”
“Only Romans? What of the slaves of Rome? Will your new Rome include freedom for all, including the slaves you’ve taken from their homelands?”
My blood raced through my veins as I watched his expression, waiting to hear his response, what I expected any pureblood patrician, any dragon who has dominated the world and subjugated people into slavery for centuries, to say.
What I did not expect was for him to uncross his arms and step so close I could smell the masculine scent of him, a scent I’d begun to crave.
He gripped my upper arms and rounded his palms on the balls of my shoulders, squeezing gently. “Yes.” He held my gaze. “All slaves will go free in the new Rome we want to create.”
I scoffed. “You’re mad. The patricians will never give them up.”
“I disagree. Will it be hard to change the mindset of so many? Yes. Will we have to kill or banish those who fight against the new regime? Yes. But it isn’t impossible.
” He lifted the palm of his hand to cup the side of my face.
“There are many things that may seem impossible that I want to make a reality.”
The brush of his thumb along my cheek was distracting.
“What you want and what will happen are two different things. You’re too idealistic, Trajan.”
He smiled. “I’m also tenacious. I usually get what I want.”
“You may die trying for what you want this time.”
He sobered then slowly dropped his hand from my face. “You may be right.” He stepped away and turned. “But at least you’ll be free somewhere else in the world.”
My stomach fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. He truly wanted that. He truly cared for me.
Without saying anything else, he wandered toward some steps off the terrace.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To find us some food. Get some rest,” he said without looking back. “We leave at sunset.”
Walking over to the balcony of the terrace, I watched him march down several flights of stairs that ended at the sandy beach. It was a small patch of shoreline inside a small cove, tucked away from the rough waters of the wide ocean.
Once at the bottom, Trajan lifted the tunic over his head, and tossed it on a large rock.
He then headed toward the lapping waves, shifting and growing, skin changing to blue scales, horns, tail, and wings emerging from his body.
It should’ve been a horrific sight, but I found it rather beautiful now.
So strange to think so after all I’d seen and been through. At the hands of Roman dragons. But I watched him, unable to drag my gaze away, until he dove and disappeared under the waves.
I didn’t feel tired, but I wandered inside anyway and draped myself on a cushioned settee that faced the open doors.
I pushed off my sandals and stretched my legs.
A seagull called somewhere, the salty breeze wafting through the room.
And though I wasn’t sleepy, I stared at the mural with the mermaid, dozing quickly to the sound of waves and gulls.
I awoke to the sound of voices, jolting upright and listening hard. One was Trajan, and he didn’t sound angry or upset. Quite the opposite. He laughed.
Jumping to my feet, I hurried outside and peered over the balcony below. On the beach, there was a small fisherman’s boat and an older man with short gray hair standing on the sand gesticulating with his hands as if telling a story. Trajan was dressed in his tunic.
Trajan laughed again, holding two giant fish in each hand by their mouths.
He then lifted one and offered it to the old man, who seemed astonished and said something else before he held out both arms to take it.
He began to fall, off-balance. Trajan instantly dropped the large fish he was still holding to the ground and caught the man then helped him carry his fish and place it into his boat.
The old man then hugged Trajan, still talking the whole time, though I couldn’t hear what he said, before he climbed into his small boat. He sat on a bench and took his oars in hand, while Trajan pushed the boat back out into the water, wading up to his knees to give him a good shove.
Trajan waded back to shore and gave him a final wave before picking up his fish and a wooden bucket that had been sitting in the sand.
He ambled back across the beach in bare feet to the steps that led to the terrace.
I stood there and waited until he emerged onto the balcony.
He stopped, seeming distracted and surprised to find me there.
“Did you get some rest?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Good.” He walked past me back into the home.
I followed him all the way into the kitchen, where he set the fish and the bucket of what appeared to be seawater on a table.
He opened the wooden shutters to let the fresh air and sunlight in.
He dipped his hands in the bucket of seawater and washed them off, taking a cloth from a cupboard to dry them.
Finally, he frowned over at me and asked, “What is it?” He set the rag down. “You don’t like fish?”
I realized then I’d been oddly silent, watching him with overeager interest. I couldn’t say what it was specifically that sent me finally into acting on what I’d been feeling for some time.
Was it because he’d helped me escape Rome, his flawed but admirable idealism, or the way he cared for his grandfather and his sisters?
Was it his beauty as both man and beast?
His strength as he rode through the skies with me—a woman—on his back, something I knew was seen as weak to others of dragonkind?
Or was it simply watching him showing kindness to an old fisherman who’d had no luck finding a catch today?
Suddenly, I didn’t want to wonder why and overthink my every calculated move as I’d been doing in my years of survival. The only thing that mattered was that I wanted him, desperately.
Without a word, I walked closer and cupped his bearded face, the bristles tickling. “You need a trim,” I told him before I pulled his face down to mine.
There was no hesitation on my part as I coaxed his lips apart with mine and thrust my tongue inside.
His hesitation was brief. He wrapped an arm around my waist, hauling me against his body, scooping his hand beneath my hair to my nape as he sucked my tongue then delved into my mouth with his own.
Our kiss was fierce and desperate as I rubbed my body against his, wanting friction, wanting fire, wanting everything he could give me.
When he slowed, I fisted the back of his hair and pulled back to see his eyes.
“No. Do not be gentle.” I shivered as I watched his pupils elongate into slits, the midnight blue of his eyes brighten with god-touched magic. “Make us both burn, Trajan,” I commanded, begged. “I want to feel it. I want to feel everything.”
The woman I’d been—a shell, numb and listless, weary, blocking any emotion at all so that I could survive—was truly gone.
While his features grew tight with desire, his arms holding me tighter, he asked, “Do you want my blood? So that you know you are safe.”
Only Trajan would offer me his blood, knowing I could kill him with it, knowing it was a way to give me control.
“No, I want you to have control,” I answered breathily, nipping at his bottom lip, relishing the hardness of his cock against my belly, “I know I am safe.”
He swooped me off the floor into his arms and stalked quickly back into the large parlor facing the sea.
After setting me down, he jerked his tunic over his head, while I wrestled with mine.
He ripped it the rest of the way over my head and threw it across the room, wrapping the front of my throat with his hand and easing me back to the cushion.
Latching his mouth around my nipple, he sucked and bit while he slid his hand between my legs. I squirmed as he stroked two fingers along my slit, finding me wet and ready.
“Fuck,” he breathed before nipping the fleshy top of my breast, “I can’t go slow.”
“Then don’t,” I urged hastily, clawing my nails into his shoulders.
On a groan, he slid to his knees at the end of the sofa, gripped my hips, and dragged me to the edge.
“Spread wide,” he ordered, upright on his knees while he took hold of his cock and nudged my entrance.
I let my legs fall as wide as they’d go, my heels on his buttocks. Once he’d slipped in the head of his cock, I moaned. His gaze snapped to mine and he curled his fingers into my fleshy hips, holding me hard while he thrust all the way inside me.
I cried out, mouth falling open at the intense pleasure.
His eyes brightened as he pulled out and thrust in again, rolling his hips to go deep.
“Yes,” I whimpered, gripping the back of the settee with one hand, the cushion beneath me with the other to hold on.
Growling, he held me still and stroked into me, my slickness easing his entry, intensifying the ecstasy. His gaze roved my face as I moaned in pleasure with each deep stroke. His muscles bulged, his fangs elongated as the sizzle of magic trailed across my skin.
I laughed, knowing he was fighting not to shift into half-skin, knowing he could fuck me to death if he did. The danger only escalated my arousal, the slickness from my pussy dripping.
Though Trajan barely held on to control, his mouth tipped up on one side as he reached one hand between us. He laid his palm on my belly, stroking his thumb along my clitoris, gently.
“I think you want it harder,” he rasped.
“Yes,” I told him. “More.”
He pinched the swollen nub of my clitoris. I cried out, on the edge of my climax. But he pulled his cock from inside me.
“No,” I gasped, reaching up.
But he swiftly flipped me over, my knees landing on the floor. Nudging his legs between mine, he spread me wider and leaned over me, his chest brushing my back. He leaned his mouth close to my ear.
“How do you feel, Lela?”
“Divine,” I answered honestly, curling my nails into the cushion.
He thrust back inside me, and I moaned, arching my spine so he could go deeper. He reached a hand beneath my belly until he slid a finger over my slick clit.
He stroked faster, hitting that perfect spot inside me, all while holding me hard, pressing his chest to my back, nipping at my shoulder. He licked his tongue along my shoulder, along the curve of my neck until his mouth was at my ear.
“You are mine, Lela.” He pounded harder. “No matter who you find when I’m gone. You are only and always will be mine.”
A flood of pleasure tightened my body as I came. He growled and groaned, thrusting one last time and holding hard, his cock pulsing as he spent inside me. Unparalleled rapture gripped me, making me tremble with the release, all while Trajan ground his cock inside me.
I didn’t realize I was crying until I sniffed.
Rather than become frightened at the sign of my emotions, Trajan swept my hair aside, kissing the wetness of my cheek, nuzzling my skin.
He didn’t pull free of my body either. He wrapped an arm beneath my waist and kept me still, holding himself close and deep.
“You know it’s true,” he whispered. “Don’t you?”
I couldn’t speak, my entire being sapped of strength, my voice having flown away with my spirit. I simply closed my eyes and nodded.
“Yes,” he whispered, brushing his mouth along my cheek and jaw. “You’ll always remember me.”
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself.
All I knew was that he was right. Even when we parted ways, I would never forget him.
There would never be another who understood the woman I’d become—forged by the chains of Rome, freed by my own power, by spilling blood, by the sacrifice of others, and by the courage of this man.
We remained that way for some time, panting in the same rhythm, breathing together as one, our bodies still joined.
When I felt him finally lift away, I said, “You’ll never forget me either.”
He paused for a brief moment, his body tensing, then pulled from inside me. He lifted me up onto my side on the settee and tucked a lock of my hair behind me ear. “Never, Lela. Not ever.”
Then he found a blanket and laid it over me.
“Stay here. I’ll cook for us. Then we must go.”
And that was all that was said, both of us knowing and pretending we wouldn’t be scarred by this. What could we say anyway? He would hide me away then return to Rome for his war. I wouldn’t stop him, even if I could, because it was what must be done.
War meant separation. And death. Loss, I understood well. I simply thought I’d lost all that I could.
“I suppose not,” I whispered to myself, swiping at the tear that rolled down my cheek.