Chapter 12
LILA
Iwake to predawn gray and the scent of dragon.
My body registers the changes before my mind catches up.
Stronger. Faster. Every sense amplified to the point where I can hear Finn's heartbeat beneath my ear, count the individual drops of rain hitting stone outside, smell the mineral composition of the cave walls mixing with salt water and sex and smoke.
The claiming bite on my shoulder throbs with pleasant heat. I move slightly and muscles respond with a fluidity that shouldn't be possible. The transformation rewrote me at the cellular level. Dragon fire burning through human limitations, leaving something new in its wake.
I'm wrapped around Finn like he's the only solid thing in the universe. One leg thrown over his hips, arm across his chest, face pressed into the curve of his neck. He's awake. I can sense it—alert awareness humming beneath his stillness.
"How long have you been watching me sleep?" The question comes out rougher than intended, my voice carrying an edge I don't recognize.
"Long enough." His hand finds the claiming bite, thumb brushing over the mark. "Your body kept trying to shift. Instinct overriding exhaustion."
"Unconsciously?"
"You shifted twice while you slept. Full transformations." He pulls me closer, possessive even now. "Dragon, then back. Your body learning the rhythm while your mind rested."
The bond pulses between us. The satisfaction at having marked me, claimed me, made me his. And beneath that, concern he won't voice aloud about the timeline we're facing.
I push up on one elbow, studying his face in the dim light. "The attack is coming soon."
"Yes."
"Then we should—" I start to move and his hand tightens on my hip, holding me in place.
"Not yet." That commanding tone that makes heat pool low in my belly. "There's something you need to learn first."
"What?"
"How to use the bond in combat. How to coordinate attacks without speaking." His dark eyes hold mine. His hands settle on my waist with possessive certainty. "The bond requires practice. Trust. Letting your barriers down completely while maintaining enough control to function in battle."
I see where this is going. "So teach me."
The kiss starts slow. Deliberate. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and hunger spikes sharp and bright across the connection. Everything amplifies—his desire feeding mine, mine intensifying his, creating a feedback loop that makes rational thought difficult.
When I pull back, we're both breathing hard.
"Like that," he says, voice rough. "But in combat, you can't afford to be distracted by sensation. You need to filter the bond. Take what's useful, block what isn't."
I rock against him, feeling him hard and ready beneath me. "And what's useful in combat?"
"Location awareness. Threat assessment. Coordinated strikes." His hands tighten on my waist, holding me still when I try to move again. "But first you learn control. Prove you can maintain focus while the bond is wide open."
Challenge accepted.
I reach for the bond deliberately, lowering the barriers I've unconsciously kept in place since the claiming.
Sensation floods the connection—his arousal, his possessive need, the claiming urge that never entirely fades.
Underneath it all, the dragon's satisfaction at having its mate here, alive, safe.
"Good." His approval flows across the link. "Deeper. Feel what I feel."
I push the connection further. Suddenly I'm experiencing my own body from his point of view—the heat of my pussy pressed against his cock, the way my breasts feel in his hands when he squeezes them, the sight of copper hair falling around my face while my pupils blow wide with want.
It's disorienting and intimate in ways that make my breath catch.
This is what you feel when you touch me?
Always. The response comes without hesitation. Your turn.
I open my side of the bond completely. Let him feel the ache between my thighs, the way his hands on my skin make every nerve ending light up, the way my pussy clenches around nothing, desperate to be filled. Analytical instinct catalogues responses while dragon need demands I take what I want.
His hunger surges across the link. His control fractures at the edges. Something dangerous rises beneath his skin.
"On your back." The command comes out rough. "Spread your legs. Now."
I move and his hands grip me, positioning me exactly where he wants me. On my back on the furs, thighs spread wide, completely exposed. He kneels between my legs, and satisfaction radiates across the bond—and underneath it, the dragon's hunger threatening to break free.
His hands grip my inner thighs, spreading me wider. Forcing me open. "Look how wet you are already. Dripping for me."
Heat floods my face but I don't look away. His hunger spikes at the sight of me laid bare before him.
"Watch." He grips my hips hard enough to bruise. "Feel what I feel."
Then his mouth is on my pussy and dual sensation crashes across every nerve.
My pleasure and his satisfaction combining until I can't tell which is which.
I experience my own arousal from his perspective—the taste of me on his tongue, sweet and salt and purely mine, the way my hips try to rock against his mouth before his hands pin me down.
And underneath it all, possessive certainty. Mine.
He works me with ruthless precision, tongue circling my clit in patterns that make coherent thought impossible. Broad strokes that make me gasp, then focused attention that has me crying out. He catalogues my responses like a predator learning prey.
"Finn, please—"
He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot against my oversensitive flesh. "Not yet."
"Finn—"
"You come on my tongue first." His fingers slide into my pussy, curling brutal and precise. "Then I'll give you my cock."
Everything amplifies. His hunger to taste my orgasm drives him harder.
My desperation for release builds with every stroke.
The pleasure crests in waves that climb higher with each movement of his fingers, each deliberate circle of his tongue on my clit.
When climax hits, it crashes through both of us—my pussy clenching around his fingers, my orgasm feeding back across the link.
Before I've stopped shaking, he's moving up my body. His mouth finds mine and I taste myself on his tongue, feel his need like a physical weight pressing down on me.
"My turn." I push at his shoulders. "Let me—"
He allows the reversal. Settles back against the furs with lazy confidence, still in control even when he's on his back. I map my way down his body with hands and mouth, learning the landscape of muscle and bone and dragon strength.
His cock is thick and hard, the head flushed dark with need. A bead of moisture glistens at the tip and I lean down to taste it, dragging my tongue across the slit.
Pleasure spikes sharp and immediate across the bond.
"Fuck." The word escapes rough and raw.
I wrap my lips around the head and his words cut off in a groan. Reaction floods across the link—the wet heat of my mouth, the pressure of my tongue against the underside of his shaft, the sight of me kneeling between his legs with my lips stretched around his cock.
I use that feedback, adjusting technique. Finding what makes his control crack, what makes his hips jerk, what makes his hand fist in my copper hair.
Deeper. The command comes rough and demanding.
I comply, relaxing my throat and taking him deeper. His cock hits the back of my throat and satisfaction roars across the bond.
"Take it." Pure gravel in that voice. "Take my cock. Just like that."
I hum agreement and the vibration makes him groan. His pleasure builds, threatening to break his control. I work him with lips and tongue and hand until his breathing turns ragged and his hand tightens in my hair, and he pulls me off. "That's enough."
I try to take him back in my mouth but he holds me back. "I'm coming inside your pussy. On your back. Now."
Approval and possessive hunger explode between us. Then he's moving, flipping our positions with dragon speed that puts me on my back with him looming over me, all muscle and heat and barely controlled dominance.
His hand wraps around his shaft, guiding the head to my entrance. "Every fucking inch."
He drives into me in one brutal stroke that seats him completely. Dual sensation steals my breath—feeling myself stretched around his cock from my perspective, then feeling how tight and wet I am around him from his.
"Fuck." He pulls back and slams in again, harder this time. "Made for me. This pussy was made to take my cock."
I know exactly what he means. The way I grip him, the heat of me surrounding him, the slick glide as he moves. And layered over that, my own pleasure—the stretch and burn and fullness, the way his cock hits deep inside me with each thrust.
"More." I dig my nails into his shoulders, drawing blood. "Harder. I can take it."
His control finally shatters. The dragon strength he's been holding back floods through him and he fucks me harder, faster, deeper. The furs slide beneath us with each powerful thrust. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me in place so I can't escape the relentless rhythm.
"Mine." The word comes out as a growl. "Say it."
"Yours." I can barely form words. "Always yours."
He changes the angle and stars explode behind my eyelids. "This pussy. This body. Mine."
Images flash across the bond—fantasy and memory and promise.
Me pinned beneath him like this, screaming his name.
Me in dragon form, flying beside him through storms. Me standing against enemies, fire burning in my chest. Me centuries from now, still his, still fierce, still taking his cock and demanding more.
I slide my hand between us, reaching for my clit, but he catches my wrist and pins it above my head.
"No." His rhythm turns punishing, brutal. "You come on my cock. Nothing else."