Chapter 19
Rosomon
Zogar has transformed into a dragon. As his breath blazes through the air, his massive shape appears on the far side of the cave. A very large cave indeed. But then his mouth closes, and he leaves me again in the darkness.
He exhales fire again, and I glance around the very tall and deep cave.
Again, I’m in darkness.
Moments later, he exhales a third time, and I return my gaze to him, marveling at the sight of his scales, flickering as they reflect the light of his own creation.
He stops exhaling, again, but this time the light doesn’t fully disappear. His breath lit a series of torches that line the far wall of the cave.
His talons scrape the stone floor as he crosses the space toward me, but he stops halfway and turns to face another direction.
There, he breathes an arc of fire, high into the air.
The flames bounce back toward him, as if they’ve struck glass, or some invisible barrier, rebounding so strongly, I fear they’ll burn him—or me.
But Zogar’s unbothered. He exhales six more fiery breaths toward the invisible barrier, each time using different angles, as if he’s using his fire to draw a pattern on whatever the flames are striking.
Then he takes a step back, and the space before me utterly transforms.
Ahead, a mountain of riches—gold, silver and gems of every imaginable form—sparkle in the light cast from the torches on the walls.
Past the hoard, lies a pool of water, and a small waterfall tumbles down from above, explaining the sound. The water has a faint red glow, so there must be a light source that reflects the sky from above. Unless the color I’m seeing is magic.
Is everything I’m seeing magic?
“My hoard,” Zogar says with relief. “It’s still here.”
I turn from the waterfall to find his naked human form striding toward me. Lifting my gaze from his heavily bouncing rod, I take in the broad smile on his face. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Zogar looking this happy.
He pulls me into a tight hug, and I sink into his muscles, warmth and masculine scent. He releases me, takes my hand and strides toward the mountain of gold, moving so quickly I need to run to keep up.
He stops when we’re standing amongst some scattered pieces of gold at the pile’s base. Goblets, jewels, coins, ingots of gold, everywhere I look. The pile is so high, I can’t see its top from this angle, nor can I see how far back it reaches.
“Wait here.” He scrambles about ten feet up the pile. Small objects—several loose gems, and many coins—tumble down as he climbs.
I jump out of the path of the priceless shower, gold and silver and jewels landing all around me. He grabs a few objects and then stands, holding them triumphantly above his head. One of the objects appears to be a crown.
He clambers in another direction, and I lose sight of him for a few moments, then hear him shout in triumph, again.
Then, after more sounds of clattering metal, Zogar reappears, coming from the far side of his hoard, a massive grin on his face.
And he’s no longer holding the things he was so happy to discover.
He stops several feet away. “Come.” He formally bows his head toward me. “Let us sit.” Turning, he heads back in the direction he came from.
I follow, careful not to step on any jewels, every one of which is more beautiful than any I’ve seen before.
The only time I’ve touched real jewels was the night of my betrothal, and I barely had the opportunity to see that necklace before Dresser fastened it around my throat.
That night, both Dresser and Nurse made it clear that the necklace wasn’t mine.
That it belonged to my late mother and would eventually belong to one of my brothers’ wives.
I can’t believe that all the riches here belong to Zogar. He is a king. This must be the hoard of all of his people. But even then, it’s so much. More gold than I imagined existed in the entire world.
Around the side of the pile, sits a small living area. A few chairs, a settee—and a bed. Several torches glow behind the furniture, and it bathes everything in soft light almost as if we’re in a home and not an underground cave.
All day, certainly since he shifted forms and failed to clothe himself, I’ve been admiring my husband’s form, and the sight of the bed is welcome. Not that he and I have often used a bed.
The other places he’s drilled me flash through my mind, and my cheeks heat, as if my thoughts are actual flames, singeing me from the inside.
Zogar gestures toward the settee. “Please, sit, my queen.” He stands somewhat stiffly and looks quite dignified despite his nudity.
As I pass him, I shoot him a mischievous smile, wondering what he’s up to. He’s standing formally, but at the same time he’s so pleased he’s nearly giddy, almost boyish, and those aren’t words I thought I’d ever associate with Zogar.
Matching his formal tone and posture, I sit at the edge of the settee and cross my ankles. Folding my hands on my lap, I straighten my back and raise my chin, taking the sitting position I was taught as a child.
I nod to acknowledge him, as if he were my subject and not my husband—certainly not my equal.
He chuckles, as he strides toward me, but instead of sitting next to me, he goes behind the furniture for a moment.
When he returns to my sight, his hands are clasped behind his back, and his rod has firmed.
It’s not fully hard, but it has grown in both length and girth and is bouncing more stiffly.
Desire pools between my legs, and I fight the urge to stare at it, or toward the bed.
Revealing what’s behind his back, Zogar sets a large golden box on the ground, and then goes down on one knee before me.
“Rosomon,” he says, “my cherished queen, my wife.” He opens the lid of the box and retrieves a ring. “On the day we wed, I had no token to offer you. Please accept this small object, along with my deepest apologies for that slight.”
No longer able to maintain my formal facade, I smile as I lean toward him. “Husband, it was no slight. None at all.”
Grinning, he reaches toward me, and I set my hand gently on his offered palm.
His chest expands at the contact, as if he felt it deeply, and we maintain eye contact as he slides the ring onto my finger.
Holding my fingertips gently, he raises my hand to his lips and softly kisses my knuckles.
His kisses are soft, but their effect lands hard between my legs.
“This ring very much becomes you.” He looks into my eyes. “I hope you like it. If you do not, there are many others.” He gestures toward his hoard. “But this one was worn by my mother.”
I pull in a ragged breath. He’s never mentioned his mother.
He’s never told me much about himself at all.
My chest swells and my eyes fill with tears as I look into his eyes and then down to the most beautiful ring I have ever seen.
Formed in pure gold, two ornately shaped dragon heads rise from either side of my finger, and their opened mouths meet around a flashing ruby surrounded by small yellow citrines.
The band is inlaid with dozens of diamonds that sparkle in the torch light.
Gratitude floods through me to join my already present desire. “It is truly the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.” I look back into his eyes, and he rises to press a kiss against my lips, one that is gentle and firm, and ends far too quickly.
“I have another gift for you.” Smiling he turns back to the box and lifts out a necklace. The gems glint in the light and my breath catches at the jewels’ abject beauty.
The collar is formed from dozens and dozens of segments, each containing at least one diamond, and in its center sits an emerald that’s a finger width across and twice as long.
The green jewel’s facets glint in the light, as if the stone is illuminated from within.
The emerald is set in even more diamonds, and a fine chain of gold and diamonds drop from there, supporting three rubies that fall, like drops of blood.
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s far too much.”
Zogar’s smile widens. He’s so pleased that he found his hoard, pleased with his gifts, pleased with himself. Perhaps even pleased with me.
“Rosomon.” Rising, he stands beside me, holding the necklace as if he means to fasten it around my neck. “Nothing I give you could possibly be too much. As my queen, everything you see here—” he gestures toward the massive pile of riches “—everything that is mine is also yours, per our vows.”
I continue shaking my head, now more in wonder than disagreement. I can’t believe his words. I can’t believe anything I’m seeing. I can’t fathom this kind of wealth.
“As my wife, what’s mine is yours,” he repeats. “But this—” he holds up the necklace “—and this—” he touches the ring “—these are gifts. Gifts for my wife, for my queen. They are now, and will always be, yours and yours alone.”
My heart races. I was born a princess, but I’ve never seen, never mind owned, anything like these jewels.
Yes, I had fine gowns, most of which I hated wearing, and I never went hungry, or went a night without a warm bed.
My life was one of great privilege, but I rarely received gifts, and certainly nothing like these jewels that Zogar is offering.
I’m stunned into silence. The settee dips slightly beside me, and resting one knee on the furniture, Zogar reaches around my throat and drapes the necklace.
“Can you lift your hair?” he asks softly.
I do as he asks, realizing my hair is once again long, and he fastens the clasp at the back of my neck.
The gems feel heavy and surprisingly warm against my skin, especially given they’ve been in this damp cave.
His fingers linger at the nape of my neck, stroking me there for a moment before he stands in front of me again.
“So beautiful,” he says. “Stunning. I knew that necklace would suit you.”
I glance down. I can’t see every part of it from this angle, but I lift my fingers to touch the diamonds encircling my neck, and the massive emerald that rests in the hollow of my throat.
Below that, the diamonds and tear drop rubies cascade down, and, over my dress, the lowest ruby kisses the space between my two breasts.
“Zogar—” My voice is hoarse and soft. “I can’t… It’s so beautiful.”
“Its beauty is but a reflection of your own, my queen.”
“Flatterer.” I smile at him, trying to turn the mood playful again, but inside I’m glowing.
Tynan and Saxon have both told me they love me, but even though I know Zogar doesn’t love me—and he likely won’t ever—he has his own way of making me believe I am the most important woman in the world, the only woman who matters.
His own way of making me feel as if he truly needs me.
And Zogar does need me. He needs the sexual bond between us, forged in that chair of consummation. Remembering the practicalities of our union brings matters back into perspective, but the idea of sex only escalates my desire.
I can’t tear my eyes from his mouth, his lips look so full and inviting, and my own lips are humming with anticipation, thirsting for his kiss, while the rest of me is singing with a near desperate need.
I could stand. I could take his rod in my hand and move this along, but I don’t want him to think that I’m offering sex because of the gifts. Zogar means more to me than that.
There’s obvious heat in his eyes. He wants what I want. Any moment now, he’ll bend and kiss me. He’ll pull me into his arms. Or better yet, he’ll carry me to that bed, or perhaps take me here on this settee. Excitement builds as I try to guess how he’ll initiate drilling me this time.
Instead, he backs away, turning toward his pile of riches.
“I’ll fetch the bags,” he says. “I don’t want to face those sprites again, so I’ll carry as much as I can in one trip.
Certainly enough to secure a property for us.
” His eyes narrow. “And some extra to fund our entrance into the place below, so I can find this demon.”
The mood has utterly flipped. He crosses the cave to retrieve the saddlebags and the leather satchels he brought. I suck in long breaths, trying to slow my heart rate and soothe my hurt feelings. I felt certain he was about to kiss me, that he was about to make love to me.
But the desire in his eyes was for his riches.
He starts picking through his hoard, slowly climbing as he chooses which items to put in the sacks.
“Is this clasp secure?” I ask.
He turns toward me. “The necklace clasp?”
I nod.
“Yes,” he says. “It would take great force to remove it.”
“Good.” Standing, I drag my dress up and over my head. “While you forage for coin, I’m going for a swim.”
I hear him shouting for me to stop, but it’s too late, I’m already underwater.