48. Lucy #3
He let out a dark chuckle as he gripped the edges of the dress he loved so much and lifted it over my head, the cold silk sliding over my skin like a gentle kiss.
Riot took a steadying breath as he looked up at me, and I could swear the dragon inside rose to attention. He sat up, kissing my collarbone. His hands were callused, his grip brutal, but his mouth—fuck, his mouth was a damn revelation.
“You like it like this, don’t you?” he growled, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. His teeth scraped my neck and I arched into him, my nipples pebbling against the coarse fabric of his shirt.
“Harder,” I gasped, lifting his shirt over his head. “I want to feel it tomorrow.”
The cold cave air kissed my skin, but his touch burned hotter than dragon fire. One thick finger traced the soaked seam of my panties, and I whimpered, already aching for him.
“You’re fucking drenched,” he murmured, dragging the lace aside to rub slow, torturous circles over my clit. “All this for me?”
I moaned, hips bucking, but he spun us both and pinned me down with his free hand, fingers tightening around my throat just enough to make my pulse race. “Say it.”
“I… fuck… yes, all for you,” I choked out, my cunt clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.
He smirked, finally slipping a finger inside me, curling it just right to make me see stars. “Good girl.” Then his mouth crashed down on mine, swallowing my whimpers as he worked me, adding another finger, then another, stretching me until I was writhing, my thighs trembling.
“Like that, beautiful beast?”
“Yes.”
He stilled, his breath ragged against my lips. “Say it again.”
“Yes, just like that,” I panted. “Now fuck me like you mean it.”
With a groan, he yanked his pants off. The head of his cock nudged against my entrance, and then he was splitting me open in one brutal thrust.
I screamed with pleasure, clawing at his back as he set a punishing pace, each snap of his hips driving me closer to the edge. His hand around my throat, holding me, and I loved it.
“Come for me,” he snarled, his other hand slipping between us to rub my clit in rough, uneven strokes.
I clamped down around him as I came with a sob, my body shaking.
He followed with a groan, spilling deep inside me.
When he finally pulled out, he collapsed to the bed and dragged me against his chest. I lay with my cheek against him and listened to his heartbeat slow back to something human, and felt the Ossira sitting quietly against my throat the way it only did when he was close.
“I’ve been thinking.”
He twisted one of my braids between his fingers. “About putting that dress back on?”
I swatted him. “I’m never wearing red again in my life if you can’t rub two brain cells together when it’s near. You’re like a damn centaur or something.”
His hand moved along my spine, unhurried. “You dropped out of the sky looking like a divine punishment and somehow I’m expected to behave?”
I shoved him away. “You’re comparing me to a curse now?”
He laughed, snagging my arms and rolling until I was beneath him, pinned to the bed. “Two brain cells, remember?”
“I’m going to need you to focus.”
“But you’re naked and that’s worse.”
“I swear to every fate, god and Fury, Riot…”
“Fine, fine.” His fingers trailed my spine. “I promise I’m focusing.”
I ignored the shot of pleasure that rolled down my body and said, “I want to find the thirteenth Moonborn.”
He stilled as if I’d thrown a bucket of cold water over him. “I thought we decided against that?”
I pushed myself up to look at him. “I don’t want to turn him over. I want to find him first, before another collared dragon does. We can keep him safe until we understand what’s actually happening. What they’re really being delivered for.”
Riot looked at the sky for a moment before sitting up. “You want to intercept your own hunt?”
“I want to stop being a weapon for something I don’t understand.” I held his gaze. “You said it yourself. Whatever narrative this is, it isn’t mine. So I find the thirteenth and you keep him, and we learn more before anyone else disappears.”
He was quiet.
“You don’t like it,” I said.
“I like you alive. The Ossira doesn’t reward deviation.”
“I know.” I did know. I’d felt what deviation cost. “But I’d rather burn for the right reason than comply for the wrong one.”
He pressed his forehead to mine, and in the silence I felt the Ossira begin its familiar pull, the insistent drag back toward the fog, back toward Luneth Hollow, back toward the world that didn’t know there was anything beyond its mountains.
“I’ve seen him twice now while intercepting you, so I know what he looks like.
I’ll hunt while you’re inside. If he’s out here, I’ll find him.
And I won’t tell a living soul about him. ”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” His hands came up to frame my face in the dark. “Go. Before it burns you for staying.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow, beautiful beast. And the night after that. And every one after that until this is finished.”