Chapter 21
I scowl at him—that fucking question—and the blasted man laughs aloud.
Gods, I love him, don’t I?
I’m not ready. I don’t have any idea how to do this—
But Zan is with me, so I have also never been more ready in my life.
“Show me what you can do, dragon,” I challenge.
Something flashes through his eyes again, and I’ve seen it enough times now that I’m pretty sure I can identify it now.
It’s a bolt of sheer lust.
At being challenged by me.
Zan lifts my arms from around his neck, his gaze turning fierce for a moment when I instinctively try not to let go of him before allowing him to move me.
Because I do trust him.
“Wait for five seconds,” Zan says.
Wait for what?
For him, I will wait, but like... why?
Fine. I narrow my eyes. “One...”
Zan flashes a grin and then vanishes.
Even though he’s left the room, I can’t help but smile in return.
Gods he’s impressive.
What a world, that he thinks he wants me.
“Two...”
By the count of three, he’s back with such speed that many of the treasures blow off the shelves.
I have an instant to react, my wrath at myself flaring out.
Because gods damn it, I didn’t mean to make him rush so hard he broke everything precious to him because I’m impatient—
A magenta miasma pours out of me.
I don’t want to just break things. I want to save them.
The treasures around the room slow as if gently settling into a cushion of pink cloud, lowering them to the floor.
I stare, not entirely sure what I just did or how, mentally reviewing the kata I imagined on impulse that I didn’t even have time to move through—
Zan sits down beside me and kisses my temple. “Thank you. I didn’t think.”
Neither did I. “I’m sorr—”
“No.” He cuts me off. “No apologies.”
I glare at him. “Then you don’t get to blame yourself either.”
Zan rolls his eyes. “Fine. Turn your head so I can reach your hair.”
I blink. “What?”
He holds up a comb, which I belatedly realize was the whole point of him leaving the room in the first place.
“What does a comb have to do with mating?” I ask.
“Maybe if you turn around you’ll find out.”
Argh.
It figures that I’d fall in love with someone who could aggravate me like no one else.
With a huff I turn my back to him and Zan moves further onto the bed behind me.
And damn it, I don’t know if this is what he had in mind, but already my heartrate is kicking up just from that.
Him at my back.
Him where I can’t see him, and the anticipation—
Gently, he touches my hair, smoothing it.
My skin warms, just from that.
This time, I know it’s not magic.
“You have exploded bed in your hair,” Zan murmurs. “I don’t want that to distract you.”
From what, I want to shout, but that’s clearly what he wants me to wonder about so I obstinately keep my mouth shut.
I do wonder, though, so I grudgingly admit his sally found its mark.
But as he works the comb through my hair, both of us quiet, I find myself warming not just in my core, but in my heart. I’d been stiff before, desperately holding onto him, but as he combs my hair more gently than anyone ever has before—myself included—something in me settles.
“This is why the ice cream helped, isn’t it?” I finally break the silence. “It wasn’t literal sustenance you needed.”
“Care from my mate,” Zan agrees in a low voice.
Oh boy. His voice saying “my mate” is doing things to me that aren’t fair.
“Preparing food for your mate is part of the courtship, for dragons,” Zan says. “That you made it yourself signals that you would sustain me through your own effort, and then when I accepted—”
“Aha, so I’ve been courting you in the dragon way, too.”
Thank goodness I was committed to learning how to make ice cream fast, then.
Ice cream really is bringing joy to my life.
I’m a little smug until I realize: “Oh, is that why you freaked out before? Because I was courting you not on purpose, and you felt like you were being dishonest?”
“I was being dishonest.”
I shrug. “Yes, but I’d have done it on purpose had I known.”
Zan lets out a breath. “I can’t believe, given all the things you do get mad about, that somehow this you’re just fine with.”
“I mean, I am going to be mad if you don’t tell me more about what you need from dragon courtship?
And you have all your fancy sex education, but I very much don’t, and I.
..” I let out a breath. Whatever you are, you aren’t a coward, Yora.
“I’m worried I’m not going to know how to do this, and that you’re not going to help me learn how to be good for you. ”
“Yora—” Zan’s voice comes out halfway strangled. “You’re already enough. You can make me ignite without even touching me, for gods’ sake.”
I can?
“Since when do you curse the gods?”
“Since I realized that I needed to change my approach to reach a godly woman,” Zan says dryly.
Right. Not the time for semantic discussions, Yora.
Zan wraps an arm around my waist, then scoots us both back on the bed.
Unsure of what’s happening, I hold still as Zan rearranges us until I’m sitting between his legs, the shape of his cock pressing against my butt, which sends a jolt of heat through me.
“Lean back, Yora,” Zan tells me. His arms come around me, hugging me to him.
I hadn’t realized I’d tensed again—it’s the unsurety of my place. But I take a breath and relax into him, letting the feel of him all around me warm me again, the lull of him combing my hair and just taking care of me washing over me.
We sit like that for a minute, just breathing, before Zan’s arms move. Before I can object to the loss of him around me, his hands move to just run up and down my arms. Which is soothing, I guess, but I liked the feeling of him all around me better.
“When dragons mate,” Zan says, “we begin in the sky. We come together as equals, our claws meeting and holding onto each other as we spiral through the world, attached to each other and holding on and not letting go. It’s harder than it sounds—to match each other’s pace, to know exactly how we both will move.
It’s how we know we can trust each other for the next step.
One flies beneath to be the brace while the other is the couple’s eyes to steer them, and both sets of wings beat in time to stay aloft together. ”
He breaks off, and his movement slows too.
But if anything I feel more molten than before, because he’s doing it, I realize. I asked him to tell me about dragon courtship, and what he needs, and he’s doing it.
He’s trusting me to meet him, even if I’m not telepathic.
But maybe I don’t need to be. “You want to be beneath me?”
His cock twitches, which is its own answer.
I huff out a little relieved laugh. “I guess I won’t crush you, then?”
In answer, he thrusts behind me. “Not even a little. May I touch you, Yora?”
Is that not what we were— Oh.
Ohhh.
“Yes,” I breathe, anticipation building once again.
His hands move again, but somehow it’s different this time.
It isn’t just that his movements are slower; it’s that there’s a deliberation to them, an intent that fixes my attention.
His hands move to my sides, and I contain myself from squirming. Somehow his touch there makes my core ache for him, and I don’t want to do anything that makes him think I’m uncomfortable before I see where he’s going.
One hand strokes up my belly, and my muscles flex beneath him. So close, but he’s going a different way.
And then that hand palms my breast, and my breath catches.
Delicately, he circles the tip, and even through my clothes I can feel myself straining toward him.
“May I touch you here, Yora?” Zan asks, his voice deeper, and my muscles clench again in reaction.
“Yes,” I say, because for the love of the gods what in the world else am I going to say?
I’ve never been as aware of my breasts as I am when Zan is touching them. He explores how to touch them in more ways than I could have imagined—gently and firmly, a sharp pinch or a rapid flicking over the tip that has my breath coming short.
And only then, when I am utterly riveted, does one of his hands go back down the other way.
I freeze, staring at the sight of his hand, so close to palming my sex.
And again, Zan says, “May I touch you, Yora?”
“Yes,” I hiss fervently.
Zan presses a kiss to my neck at the same time I watch his hand dip into my pants, mesmerized by the sight.
And then a single finger touches me, and I arch up with a gasp.
I quickly shift back down, but then Zan freezes, just for a second.
Oh no. “I’m sorry—”
“No,” Zan growls. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Please don’t be—”
“There are more wood chips on our clothes,” he interrupts. “One poked me unexpectedly. You’re perfect, Yora.”
Oh.
After a second I start laughing helplessly, because of course I finally get Zan where I want him and my own actions manage to make the whole thing awkward—
And then my breath catches because Zan’s finger moves again.
I can’t hold still anymore.
I have to move.
His finger is barely even touching the apex of my sex, and his touch is so gentle, so firm, so much care for me making me feel things no one else has, and barely a minute passes before the sensation bursts over me, my whole body seizing with it like a lightning strike.
And Zan keeps touching me.
I come back to myself still gasping, twitching at the somehow heightened sensation, and he asks, “Do you need me to slow down? After an orgasm sometimes the feeling can be too much—”
Do I want him to slow down?! Is he insane???
“Zan, I am a sage,” I tell him with all the feeling I can muster—which is quite a lot. “I can never feel too much.”
“Oh, is that so?” Zan says.
And while I’m still shaking with the aftershocks, he puts one finger inside of me.
My inner muscles clench around him.
I stare again down at where his hand disappears, my breath coming fast with the new sensations—that I can process fully because I’m a sage, and it’s so much, enchanting and utterly riveting and at once transporting, feeding the same part of me that using my power feeds.
Instinctually my legs fall open, seeking more of him.