Chapter 22
Much later, after an intimate dinner on the balcony and reading correspondence together, Leita returned to Attalus’s words. She tracked him from where she stood at her desk, watching as he divested of his larger pieces of jewelry.
He’d never be without horn caps, a few earrings, smaller necklaces, and a ring, he claimed, but otherwise he took off his big jeweled necklaces, bangles, gold bracers, and ear caps.
“I want to be comfortable, after all.” Leita just smiled, a little bewildered, a little amused, and happy he was happy.
Honestly, he still resembled a dragon sleeping in a pile of treasure whenever he climbed atop the bed.
But those weren’t the words she lingered over. “Then practice on me,” he’d said. Practice being soft and gentle. Leita couldn’t say she wasn’t intrigued. In fact…she might want to start right now.
“Attalus?”
“Yes, agae?” He cocked his head in her direction as he unfastened an earring. His slitted pupils enlarged when he saw she approached and larger still when her hands ran up his chest to settle over his hearts.
“Did you mean what you said?”
“I made you a promise, didn’t I?” He grinned ruefully. “Although, perhaps remind me which thing I said.”
“That I should practice on you.”
His hands abandoned their work, instead coming round her waist to hold her hips. Like that, he drew her closer, into the curve of his body, as he leaned down to nuzzle her nose with his.
“You can do whatever you want with me, doe. I meant it then, I mean it now, and every day after.”
“Anything I want.”
“Anything,” he agreed, his hands sliding down to hold and squeeze her backside. “I mean to be whatever kind of consort you need. I’ll give you practice, comfort, support, children, even my life if need be.”
Leita snatched his chin. “Don’t say that.”
Attalus tickled her fingers with his forked tongue, grinning in the face of her frown. “But I mean it, agae. I would kill for you and die for you.”
“That’s not what I…” Leita’s forehead fell onto his chest. “I don’t want to talk about dying.”
“All right, then. What should we talk about?” he purred at her ear.
Leita shivered, gooseflesh rising along the nape of her neck where his breath cascaded down her back. The richness of his voice sent her initial ideas spinning out into something far more…stimulating.
Did she dare? Could it be that simple? Sometimes the simplest things or plans were the most difficult.
Could she really practice trusting with Attalus? Even…learning to be happy with Attalus? If she could learn these things, be brave enough to try, could that really unlock what she’d been trying for months to open?
“If not with you, then who?” She didn’t realize at first that she said it aloud, but that didn’t make it untrue.
He didn’t frown or ask what she meant. Instead, his hands were ever gentle, kneading at her backside, the tips of his claws just pricking enough to incite delicious sensation.
Wetting her lips, and gratified to see how his eyes tracked the movement, Leita whispered, “Will you lay on the bed for me?”
His tail began to thrash behind him, although the rest of him remained placid.
“Of course, agae. Anything you want.” He bestowed a kiss to the top of her head before stepping back.
Being Attalus, he couldn’t seem to help a waggle of his brows before sauntering over to the bed.
A lascivious grin accompanied his question of, “Kilt or no kilt?”
Mouth dry, Leita answered, “No kilt.”
A pleased croon reverberated from across the chamber as he began to undo the knot at his hip. “As my Queen commands.”
Leita couldn’t seem to move, enraptured at the sensual, graceful way he disrobed. It only took a handful of movements, the thin fabric of the kilt easily falling away from his claws. He stood stark naked for her to admire for a long moment before finally climbing onto the bed.
“Back or front?”
It took her a moment to peel her gaze off his perfect backside to look at his face. “Back.”
He trilled with interest, flipping onto his back and spreading all seven limbs across the bed to take up as much of it as he could. His head lolled to the side on his pillow, those gold eyes following her as she walked—into her closet.
She heard his tail thump on the bed, no doubt confused, but she had a plan. Or, she thought she did. As she took off her simple tunic and trou and reached for the frothy silk negligee and dressing gown, she wasn’t so sure it was much of a plan at all.
But Leita didn’t let herself think. Instead, she let the cool silk ripple across her skin, falling over her in an elegant wave. The pearlescent fabric caught what little light there was in the closet, gleaming just a shade lighter than her own skin.
She doubted pretty clothes were necessary to seduce Attalus, but it was part of her plan.
Over the past days, standing beside him, she rather enjoyed looking the Queen.
It was something she could put on and take off, and dressing so seemed to garner her a little more of her council’s respect.
She wasn’t some wild waif, she was the Queen.
Leita would never admit it to him aloud, but Attalus was right about appearances. Sometimes clothes were important, serving a purpose. And these silky garments were meant to allure and seduce.
Until it felt natural to do, she wanted their purpose and the confidence it gave her. She wanted to wear what it felt like to be desirable, to be someone who could take a lover by the horns.
He didn’t disappoint her when she reemerged from the closet, the long train and billowing arms of the dressing gown draped behind her. Attalus’s nostrils flared, and he propped up on his elbows to get a better view.
“I pulled that to the front hoping, but I didn’t think…” His smile widened. “You spoil me, phetala.”
“Remember you said that.”
Confusion bled into his eyes, but then his attention snagged on her magic wrapping around his wrists and ankles.
Gently but firmly, she held him by his extremities, pulling his arms up toward either top corner of the bed, and his ankles toward the lower corners.
His wings, left free for now, twitched and flapped in surprise.
Spread eagle, he was totally prone and utterly at her mercy.
Should she like that as much as she did?
His hearty chuckle was reassuring. Testing his magic restraints, Attalus rotated his ankles. His tail swished on the bed beside him, as content as if he was laid out in the crystal pavilion under his favorite tree.
“My, my, doe. I didn’t think you the type.”
“The type for what?”
“Binding. Restraining. Do you like me like this?”
“Yes.”
That one word snared his attention, and he lifted his head to smile toothily at her. “I’m intrigued.”
She’d take it. Leita walked to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down upon him laid out before her like some great scaled sacrifice.
He truly was a feast for the senses, all that warm scaled flesh, his spicy scent wafting up from the soft sheets.
His croon simmered in his chest, a pleasant, barely audible tone that settled in her ears and between her legs.
She realized as she looked upon him that her plan had been a bit thinner than she’d thought. Now that she had him there, what did she want to do with him?
Practice. Play. Push.
He was always teasing and flirting. Perhaps it was time he receive his own treatment.
And, Leita hadn’t forgotten that night in the cave.
His tail went still when he felt her magic flow along his limbs.
While keeping him in place, she used her magic to caress him, tracing the pattern of scales along his flanks, circling the flat nipples on his chest, and pooling at the flat plane above his stirring cock.
Attalus’s gaze sharpened, never wavering from where she stood, and a cocksure grin lifted his lips.
That look heated Leita’s blood. Infernal, incorrigible man.
Warm as syrup and just as thick, her magic slid along his body in slow, deliberate strokes.
She took her time over his beautifully wrought chin and cheekbones, kissing his elegant lips with magic and twining between every eyelash.
When the magic tickled at his mouth, he opened dutifully, his tongue tasting the ephemeral force as it traced his fangs.
Phantom hands touched the faint scars her own fangs had left in his neck. She liked the sight of them and wondered if another bite could make the scars more pronounced. Her own necklace for him to wear. Pleasure clenched her lower belly tight—oh, she liked that idea very much.
Another pair of magic hands swept down to cup his great chest, feeling the strength there, his twin hearts pumping.
The synchronized beats had the faintest echo as they began to quicken beneath hands that caressed and kneaded.
His hide was tough but warm, and through her magic, Leita felt him, her palms tingling.
The temptation to replace the magic with her own hands was strong, but she resisted. She hadn’t been playing all that long.
At the very least, she needed to coax that handsome cock of his to full potential.
As though reading her intent, Attalus’s head fell back on his pillow, a gusty laugh making the ball of his throat bob. “Do it, agae. Take what’s yours.”
She didn’t hesitate. Her magic wrapped round his rousing cock, enveloping it in that syrupy warmth. A hiss slid between his clenched teeth, and Leita watched in fascination as the muscles at his hips clenched.
Her magic claimed what was hers, swirling around the shaft in a spiral to the top.
She teased the ball-ended bar pierced at the underside of the head, eliciting a rumbling moan.
The three circles of ridges framing the head intrigued her, and she kissed each in their time, running gentle touches over their circumferences.