Chapter 34
Mara
I rise on my toes. Kiss him like I’ve wanted to since the command center. Since the battle. Since he looked at me and chose me over duty and grief.
His mouth opens. His tongue slides against mine. And holy shit, the man can kiss.
His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with a gentleness that contradicts the heat building between us.
I pull back just enough to breathe. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“I have waited centuries for this.” His voice is gravel and want. “I will not rush.”
“Centuries is long enough.” My hands fist in his shirt. Tugging. “Off. This needs to be off.”
He pulls it over his head in one smooth motion. Tosses it somewhere behind him.
And I just… stare.
I’ve seen him shirtless before. In the stream. In the cabin. But this is different. This is mine to touch.
Golden skin stretched over muscle that belongs in a classical painting. Scales shimmer just beneath the surface—remnants from the battle, probably. They catch the lamplight. Make him look otherworldly.
Which, fair enough, he kind of is.
“You’re staring,” he says.
“You’re hot. Literally and figuratively.” I press my palm against his chest. His skin is fever-warm. “How are you not spontaneously combusting?”
“Dragon physiology.”
“Right. Because that’s a normal thing to say.” I trace the line of his collarbone. The curve of his shoulder. Learning the architecture of him. My fingers trail down to his sternum, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath my touch.
His breath hitches. “Mara.”
God, I love how he says my name. Like it matters. Like I matter.
Not Lyria. Not some ghost from his past.
Me.
I lean in, press my lips to his chest. Right over his heart. Feel the heat radiating from him. My tongue traces a path upward, tasting salt and smoke.
He makes a sound—low and wanting—that goes straight through me.
I explore him. Follow the ridges of muscle. The places where scales surface and recede. When I graze my teeth over his collarbone, his hands flex at his sides. Like he’s fighting not to touch me.
“Touch me,” I murmur against his skin. “I want you to.”
His hands move to my waist. Hesitant at first. Then firmer as I press into him.
I reach for the hem of my shirt. Pull it off. Let it drop.
His eyes darken. Track from my face down to my chest. Linger.
The intensity of his gaze makes my skin flush. Makes everything hyper-aware. But he doesn’t move. Just looks. Like he’s memorizing every detail.
“You are exquisite.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Dragon King.”
“It is not flattery. It is observation.” His voice drops lower. “I have seen countless treasures in my lifetime. None compare.”
Okay. That’s not fair.
I step closer. Close enough that my breasts brush his chest. “K… Touch me.”
His hands move to my waist. Slide up slowly. Deliberately. Thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts.
I arch into the contact. “God! Yes. Like that.”
He cups them, palms warm and calloused. His thumbs circle my nipples through my bra, and I gasp at the contact.
“More,” I manage.
He reaches around, unhooks my bra with surprising dexterity for a man who might never have seen one before. He slides the straps down my arms.
The air hits my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze.
He dips his head. Grazes his lips down my throat, stubble rasping the sensitive skin. It raises gooseflesh on my arms. My chest. Everywhere.
His mouth trails lower. Across my collarbone. Down the valley between my breasts.
“You’re killing me,” I breathe.
“Good.” His lips curve against my skin. “I intend to take my time.”
When his mouth finally closes around my nipple, I make a strangled sound. My fingers tangle in his hair. Holding him there.
His tongue circles. Teases. Then he nips the sensitive peak, and I nearly come apart.
He switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention. His hand kneads the one he left, thumb stroking over the wet peak.
My knees go weak. I grip his shoulders for support.
He lifts me without breaking contact, his strength casual and devastating. My legs wrap around his waist automatically.
“Bed,” I manage. “We need… bed.”
He carries me the few steps. Sets me down carefully on the edge of the mattress.
I push him backward. He goes willingly. Sits, then lies back when I press on his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Taking charge,” I say, because if I’m going to do this, I’m doing it my way. All in.
I work at his belt. Get it open. But before I shove his pants down, I pause. Run my hand over the bulge straining against the fabric.
He groans. Low and guttural.
I stroke him through his pants. Learn the shape of him. The size.
“Mara.” My name is a plea.
“Patience,” I tell him, throwing his words back at him. “You said you wouldn’t rush.”
I unbutton his pants. Lower the zipper slowly. He lifts his hips, and I pull them down along with his boxer briefs.
And… yeah. Dragon shifters are apparently proportional.
I wrap my hand around his shaft. Hot. Hard. Silky skin over steel.
I stroke once. Twice. His jaw clenches. Muscles jumping under my other hand.
I lower my head. Press a kiss to his hip bone. Then trail my lips along the V of muscle disappearing into his groin.
“Mara.” Strained this time. “You do not have to—”
“I want to.” I look up at him. “Unless you object?”
“I do not object.” His eyes are pure gold. “I could never object to anything you wish to do.”
I take him into my mouth. Just the head at first. Tasting him. Learning his flavor of salt and musk.
His hand fists in the sheets. The other finds my hair, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t guide. Just holds.
I take him deeper. Work him with my tongue and lips until his breathing goes ragged.
“Mara. Stop. I want—” His voice breaks. “I want to be inside you when I finish.”
I release him with a final lick. “Then we’d better move this along.”
I strip off my remaining clothes. Stand there naked while he stares.
“My turn,” he says.
Before I can respond, he’s sitting up. Pulling me onto the bed with him.
He lays me back. Settles between my thighs.
“What are you doing?”
“Returning the favor.” His eyes gleam. “You took charge. Now it is my turn.”
His mouth finds my inner thigh. Kissing. Nipping. Working his way higher.
When his tongue finally touches me, finds the nub of my clit, I arch off the bed.
“K. Holy—”
He explores me with the same deliberation I showed him. Learning what makes me gasp. What makes me moan.
When he slides a finger inside me, I nearly combust.
“You are ready,” he murmurs. “So ready.”
“Yes. God, yes. Please.”
He adds a second finger. Curls them just right. His thumb circles that bundle of nerves while his tongue—
The orgasm hits me like a freight train. Unexpected and devastating.
I cry out, body clenching around his fingers.
“Now,” I manage. Voice shaky. “Now, I need you.”
He slides up between my splayed thighs, shoulders spreading them wide as he moves.
But I have other plans. Shifting positions, I push him onto his back. Straddle his hips.
“This okay with you, ancient Dragon King?”
“I am uncertain what you mean.”
“I mean—” I brace my hands on his chest. “I’m going to be on top. I’m going to set the pace. Control what happens. Because in my time? Women don’t just lie back and think of England.”
His brow furrows. “Why would they think of England?”
“It’s an expression. Never mind. The point is, I’m in charge here. That work for you?”
Something flashes in his eyes. Heat. Interest. “Yes.”
“Good.” I nip his lower lip… just lightly, teasing. “Because some guys have fragile egos about women being in control. And I need to know you’re not one of them.”
“I ruled a kingdom for decades,” he says. Voice rough. “I am not threatened by your strength. I am intrigued by it.”
Okay. That’s hot.
I lean down. Kiss him. Pour every ounce of want and need and choose-you-choose-you-choose-you into it.
His hands rest on my waist. Not demanding. Just present.
When I pull back, we’re both breathing hard.
“Last chance,” I tell him. “To tell me you’re not ready. Because now that I’ve made up my mind…”
“Mara.” There it is again. My name. Clear and certain. “I am ready. I have been ready since I felt you go down in that helicopter. Since you refused to die. Or to leave me. Since you picked me.”
My throat closes. “You’re really good with words, you know that?”
“I have centuries of practice.”
“Show-off.” I reach between us. Wrap my hand around his shaft. I stroke once. Twice. Guide the throbbing head to where I’m already slick and ready.
Then I sink down.
Slowly. Because holy shit, he’s—
“You okay?” His voice is tight. Controlled.
“Yeah. Just… you’re big. Give me a second.”
I lower another inch. My body stretching to accommodate him. It’s intense. Almost too much. But not painful.
Just… full.
I take him another inch. Then another. Until I’m seated completely.
We both go still.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“Is that good or bad?”
“Good. Really good. Just…” I rock experimentally. “Need to adjust.”
The angle shifts. Sensation sparking through me. Better. So much better.
“Okay,” I say. “Okay, I’m ready.”
I start to move. Slow at first. Finding the rhythm that works. That hits the right spots.
His hands tighten on my waist. Supporting. Not controlling.
And the bond—
The bond that’s been hovering at the edge—
Begins to pulse. Insistent. Growing stronger with every movement. And it’s freaking mind-blowing.
“I feel you,” I gasp. “Not just… not just physically. I feel your emotions. Your… everything.”
“Yes.” His voice is strained. “That’s it. It’s close. Almost—”
I move faster. Chasing the pleasure building at the base of my spine. Chasing the bond that wants to complete.
“Mara.” My name. Again and again. Like it’s the only word that matters. “Mara.”
“Say it again,” I gasp. “My name. Not hers. Mine.”
“Mara.” His eyes lock on mine. “Mara. You are mine. My mate. My choice. Mara.”
Something breaks open in my chest.
The pleasure crests. Sharp and sudden and overwhelming.
I come with a cry. My inner walls clenching around him. Pulsing. Muscles spasming as my brain switches off and pleasure takes over.
And the bond—
Almost completes.
Almost. But not quite.
Something’s missing. The final piece that locks everything into place.
“K,” I gasp. Still trembling. Still riding the aftershocks. “What—? Why didn’t it—?”
“The claiming.” His voice is raw. “Dragon mates… we mark. We bite. It seals the bond completely.”
“Then do it.” I tilt my head. Exposing my throat. “Mark me.”
“Mara—”
“Do it. Please. Don’t make me fucking beg, K.”
He surges up. One hand cupping the back of my head. The other at my hip. His mouth finds the juncture of my neck and shoulder.
Then his teeth sink in.
Not deep. Just enough to break skin. Just enough to mark.
The bond explodes.
Not snaps. Explodes.
Connection floods through me. Overwhelming. All-consuming. I can feel him—everything he feels. His desire and devotion and absolute certainty that I am his.
And underneath that—deeper—I feel his dragon. Ancient and powerful and recognizing me as mate.
The mark on my neck burns. Gold fire racing outward from the bite. Not painful. Claiming.
“Mara… My mate.” He’s breathless. Awed.
“Yours,” I agree. Voice shaking. “But you’re mine too. That’s how this works.”
“Yes. Always yours.”
He’s still hard inside me. Still hasn’t finished.
I start moving again. Slow. Deliberate. Taking my time.
“Now you,” I tell him. “I want to feel you come inside me.”
“Fuck,” he groans. His control shatters.
His hands tighten on my flesh. Guiding me faster. Harder. Meeting each movement with thrusts that hit deep.
I match him. Take everything he gives.
The bond sings. Complete. Permanent. Sealed.
He comes with a roar, taking me with him. Gold fire races across his skin. Illuminating us both in dragon flame that doesn’t burn.
His teeth sink into my shoulder again. Deeper this time. Marking. Owning.
The bond pulses. Absolute. Final.
Mine. His. Ours.
I collapse against his chest. Both of us breathing hard. Both connected.
“So that’s mate bonding,” I say eventually. “With the biting and the fire and the everything.”
“Yes.” His arms wrap around me. Holding me close. “Are you…? Did I hurt you?”
I touch the mark on my neck. It’s tender. Sensitive. But not painful.
“No. It’s perfect.” I look at him. “You’re perfect.”
“I am far from perfect, Mara.”
“Yeah, well. You’re perfect for me.” I kiss him. Soft. Sweet. “My dragon. My K. My mate.”
I can’t believe I just said that.
“And you are mine.” He brushes hair from my face. “My chaos. My choice. My Mara.”
The bond hums agreement.
Outside, the world continues. The Syndicate plots. Responsibilities wait.
But here—right now—there’s just us.
Mates. Joined forever. Complete.
And for the first time since I can remember, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.