Chapter 30
Barely two days later, Leita reentered her bedchamber to find Attalus dressing for the day.
When she’d left before dawn, he’d been fast asleep, his face free of the worries that plagued them in waking.
It’d taken effort to leave him, the desire to ignore everything outside their door pinning her to the bed as surely as the faelands’ weight.
Leita returned now, some hours later, knowing that the time had come to do what she’d promised herself—even if her stomach turned at the thought.
Attalus peeked at her over his shoulder at the click of the door closing behind her. His grin was tired but genuine, drawing Leita near.
“Good morning, agae. Have you been up long?”
“Before dawn.”
As he tied his robes closed in an elaborate knot, Leita wrapped her arms around him from behind. Nestled between his wings, she rested her cheek on his warm back, the soft slide of silk against her skin pleasant, but she wished to touch his scales.
“Have you taken breakfast? Perhaps you should try to sleep a while before the council meeting.” His voice was as gentle as his hand, which came to lay atop hers on his chest.
“I don’t want to sleep,” she mumbled. She didn’t want to think about the council meeting, either—or tell him why it’d been canceled.
“What about breakfast?”
“Later.”
“Leita?” He couldn’t turn in her arms without buffeting her with a wing, not when she refused to loosen her grip. “Agae, what’s wrong?”
She nuzzled the spot between his shoulder blades. “I don’t want to think for a while. Will you help me forget?” Her hands trailed down his chest and then abdomen, framing his narrow hips.
“Leita,” he said again, his hands intercepting hers before she could take hold of his cock. Creating just enough space to turn around, he rested her hands on his back then wrapped his own around her. It was as much an embrace as an immobilization. “What’s happened?”
Fuck, sometimes she wished he wasn’t so perceptive. He didn’t even need their bond to guess at her mood or thoughts. He read it easily in her face.
Reluctantly, Leita admitted, “Your brother is nearly at the border.”
Attalus froze, save his eyes that widened with alarm.
In the end, Araxos Anax’s response had come too swiftly for Attalus’s message to make the journey to Highhome and then see a dragon army fly forth. He’d already been on the move, it seemed, when Attalus’s brother Tychon had been sent to collect Leita’s response.
The time of reckoning was fast upon them.
“That fucking bastard,” he growled. “He’s lost his mind, coming here.” Attalus tightened his hold, the words Leita dreaded falling from his lips. “I’ll fly out and intercept him. I’ll make him see his folly.”
“What makes you think he’ll see what he’s willfully ignored for months?” Leita asked without malice. “He won’t listen to you, Attalus. It’s I who must meet him now.”
“No. You are my very soul, Leita. You fill the space between my hearts, and if I could put you there to keep you safe, I would. I won’t let you risk yourself or the faelands.”
“It’s my domain he marches on. I can and will defend what’s mine, Attalus. I’m not weak, I don’t need you to protect me.”
“I don’t think you’re weak,” Attalus insisted, “I know you’re impossibly strong. But that strength makes you reckless.”
Leita recognized the truth of what he said but didn’t like it at all. “The only reason I became Queen was because I was promised my azai. You. You’re all I want, Attalus, and I won’t lose you to the caprice of the lizard king.”
“You can’t—”
Grabbing fistfuls of his robe, Leita growled, “What I can’t do is think anymore. Are you going to help me or not?”
Attalus huffed, his hot breath tinged with a tang of smoke. His claws began to knead her back, and Leita canted her hips, putting pressure on his hidden cock. For a moment, she wasn’t sure he’d do as she asked, and terror gripped her throat tight.
What if he refused? What if she couldn’t do it? What if—?
His slitted pupils dilated as his gaze fell to her lips. A snarl lifted his own over a fang. “Are you sure you want me angry, doe? I’m not sure I can be gentle.”
Leita held him by the nape, nails digging into his scalp. She pulled him down to her, delivering her demand against his lips. “I want what’s mine.” I’d have you any way, in all ways, forever.
His mouth crashed onto hers, and her relief was immediate. Leita threw her arms around his neck, lifting onto her tiptoes to change the angle of their angry kiss. Their teeth gnashed and fought, tongues dueling to prove who would be right.
Although, in truth, Leita cared less about being right and more about succeeding. They could argue her methods until the end of time, so long as they had that time.
Leita sucked on his hot tongue, reveling in its heat as he plundered her mouth. Their fangs scraped against each other, their lips melded in an inelegant, furious kind of kiss that left her trembling and wanting.
She needed no direction when he bent to lift her. Leita leapt into his arms happily, her hands desperate as he walked them to the bed. Even as he dropped her onto it, she attacked the knots he’d done in his robes, needing to feel his skin and scales on her.
With a growl, Attalus caught up her hands and lifted them above her head.
Pinning her wrists to the bed in one hand, he ripped away her soft trou and pushed up her tunic.
The simple set of stays she wore beneath came free under his claws, strips of fabric fluttering through the air until she was nearly bare before him.
“Impatient, willful mates must learn to wait,” he taunted.
He planted a knee on the bed between hers, leveraging himself over her. Leita wiggled on the bed, needing more. Her legs fell open, hips undulating, inviting him closer.
Attalus rumbled with a laugh, a rich sound she felt as a caress between her thighs. “Such a needy thing you are today, agae. Do you want me so badly?”
“Yes,” she whined, not too proud to admit it. “Make it better.”
Nostrils flaring, Attalus descended onto his elbow in an elegant swoop.
His free hand cupped her knee, pushing it to the side, nearly down to the bed, exposing her to the cool morning air.
The back of his hand made teasing passes up and down her inner thigh, over her mons, and back again, never straying too close to where she wanted him.
“What a privilege it is to serve the Queen,” he crooned, “and see her in such a state.”
“Only you,” she panted, hips rolling desperately to try and catch even a stray touch. Her body burned for more pressure, more attention, and the temptation to do it herself with her magic sat like a knife in her gut—but Leita wanted his touch, his attention.
She had all the magic a fae could want, a Queendom at the tips of her fingers, but all she wanted was her azai.
He had her pinned like a butterfly on paperboard, and they both knew it. Attalus wouldn’t be rushed, working her into an impatient frenzy with every maddening touch—everywhere except where she needed him most.
When she tried to urge him closer with a heel to his back, his tail curled around her ankle, holding her open for his ministrations.
Finally, finally, two fingers slid down through her swollen, needy flesh, exposing her clitoris and entrance. She whined, hips bucking, needing—
His tail released her ankle just long enough for the end to slap her cunt wetly. Leita jolted, not sure whether the sensation or her surprise was greater. He did it once more, that infernal chuckle vibrating in his throat, before his tail swirled sinuously around her ankle and calf.
An inarticulate cry escaped Leita when his hand covered her, palm pressing down to offer widespread but only mild pressure.
“Attalus…” she mewled.
“The Queen herself, begging.” Two fingers plunged inside her, sinking up to the third knuckle easily. “Soaked already,” he purred, adding his thumb to tweak her clitoris side to side.
She jerked under him, testing his hold on her wrists, but Attalus wouldn’t budge.
While his fingers worked her higher, he dipped his head to lavish a nipple with his tongue. The pressure at first was light, fluttering touches that made her skin jump.
As he switched between breasts, Attalus crooned, “What a warrior Queen you’ll make, agae. Defending the land in your righteous fury. Ride me into battle. We’ll make the earth tremble with fear and envy both, Queen and consort together.”
Fuck, his mouth. How was it that he used it to such grand effect whatever he did?
Under that tongue and his steady, thrusting fingers, Leita began to soften to his argument. Orgasm built to sweet agony, and it’d take just one more lick, one more stroke to unleash.
With a kiss to her throat, Attalus murmured, “Tell me, doe. Say we’ll ride together.”
Leita’s lips peeled back as tears gathered in her eyes. Her head thrashed back and forth when she choked, “I can’t.”
His fingers stopped. His lips left her.
Her burning body was left cold as he straightened above her, denying her her pleasure and his touch.
Outrage burst from her mouth, Leita lifting her head to glare at him.
Attalus glared right back.
As she watched, his free hand made quick work of the intricate knots keeping his robes closed. With a flick of his wrist, the fabric fell open, revealing the long length of his hard body and the weeping cock bobbing against his belly.
Leita smirked up at him, even as her own body throbbed with wanting.
With a sneer, Attalus took hold of himself at the base and fed his cockhead into her waiting cunt. Her back arched, the burn and stretch delicious as he pushed his way inside in a single, unrelenting thrust.
Only when she’d taken him to the root did he say, “I’ll be your stud, my Queen. I’ll give you as many babes as you wish.”
His thrusts were brutal, lacking finesse or rhythm. He pounded inside her, running her down, attacking her defenses. Head thrown back, Leita cried out her ecstasy, hips bucking to meet him.