Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
VAELA
T he almighty Dragon Queen is in my bed.
In my bed.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the Dragon Queen sprawled across the silk sheets, her dark hair tangled over my pillows, her body half-covered in the thin blanket. The robe she’d been wearing last night has slipped from her shoulder, exposing the pale curve of her collarbone, the dip between her breasts.
She looks soft like this.
Peaceful.
Relaxed in a way I’ve never seen her before.
Not that I blame her.
After all, I was the one who worked those knots from her shoulders, coaxed those low, sinful noises from her lips, felt the tension unravel from her body beneath my hands. And now, here she is, utterly lost to sleep, her breath even, her body lax.
I grin.
Dragons purr.
Oh, I will never let her forget that.
But for now, I have other matters to tend to.
With one last lingering glance at the slumbering queen, I turn, padding silently toward the center of my room.
A large stone bowl rests atop the war table, filled to the brim with water—a necessity for someone like me, kept in a land of fire. The castle’s servants had placed it there at some point in the night, likely assuming I’d want it to drink or bathe.
Fools.
They had no idea what a gift they had given me.
I move toward it, my fingers trailing lightly over the rim.
The water pulses beneath my touch, answering my call before I even summon it.
My magic stirs, restless. Eager.
It has been too long since I’ve used it freely. Since I’ve felt the full force of my power surge through me.
And now, with this?
I could do more than just pull at the droplets in the air, more than just whisper to the tides beneath the earth.
I could reach beyond.
Beyond these walls.
Beyond this world.
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders as I place my hands in the water bowl, fingers sinking into the cool, liquid silk. The moment my skin meets the surface, a shiver ripples through me, a connection forming like a tether snapping taut across an infinite distance. The magic of my realm stirs, sensing me.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, summoning the power that thrums in my veins.
Deeper.
I whisper to the sea, to the abyss that has always obeyed my call, the home that is stitched into my very being. The water shifts beneath my hands, but I don’t just draw from the small, stagnant pool before me—I pull from the ocean itself, from the tides that still remember me.
The air thickens with power, tingling against my skin.
Stronger.
The water swirls, stretching beyond the confines of the bowl, twisting into spirals of liquid silver. The currents expand, bending space itself, forming more.
A ripple. A tremor.
Then—
The portal erupts to life.
It does not appear within the bowl, too small and insignificant to contain it. Instead, the air before me cracks open, the sheer force of it shuddering through the room. A vortex of shifting water swirls across the far wall, an expanse of glowing blues and deep violet, bioluminescent streaks pulsing like veins through the portal’s surface.
A direct tether to my world.
I feel it immediately. The weight of the sea pressing against the threshold, whispering to me, begging me to step through.
To return.
But I do not need to leave.
I only need to reconnect.
I press my hands deeper into the water, exhaling as I let it wash through me, filling me.
My magic recharges. Strength bleeds back into my limbs, rushing through me like a tide breaking free from its dam. It’s intoxicating—the raw pulse of my realm’s power, surging through me like lightning, like a siren’s song calling me home.
I breathe it in. Let it fortify me.
I am not stealing, not taking as I always have.
I am receiving.
Something freely given.
The thought unsettles me.
Because I do not give freely.
I have built my power through bargains, through exchanges. Magic is never free.
And yet…
I think of Nyxara, her strength, her kingdom, the creatures that look to her for protection, the fire in her veins, the unyielding determination in her emerald eyes. The more I learn of her, the more I understand her—the more I want to help her. Not just because of our bargain. Not just because of the power she could give me in return. But because something within me wants her to win.
I have never felt such a thing before. The idea of giving—of offering my magic with no price, no cost—is foreign, unfathomable. And yet, as I kneel here, siphoning power from my realm into my own being, I do not think of what I could take. I think of what I could offer her. The realization is dangerous. It curls deep inside me, unfamiliar, shifting my very foundation. But I do not resist it.
I let it settle.
A flicker of heat brushes my senses. A presence, stirring at the edge of my awareness. I do not react at first, my focus still tethered to my magic, still pulling, still receiving. And then, sharp and abrupt—
"Vaela!"
A crack sounds through the chamber, and the world shudders.
I gasp as the portal collapses.
The glowing vortex flickers violently before shattering, the bioluminescent light snuffing out, the currents snapping back into the void like a wave receding too fast.
I lurch forward, my hands gripping the edge of the table to steady myself as my connection to the sea is ripped away. A clawed hand seizes my wrist, yanking me back before I can regain my balance. I blink, dazed, my mind still caught between realms.
Nyxara.
Towering over me, hair still tousled from sleep, robe hanging loose over her shoulders.
She is all fire and fury, magic curling in the air around her like a storm barely held in check.
Her eyes burn .
"What," she hisses, voice rough with sleep and something sharper, "the hell do you think you’re doing?"
I blink at her, my breath still heavy from the exertion, my body still thrumming from the rush of magic. “Good morning to you too, Dragon Queen. ”
Her claws dig into my wrist, her grip unforgiving. “You were opening a portal.”
“Brilliant deduction,” I muse, regaining my breath. “Shall I award you a prize?”
She growls, low and threatening, the sound reverberating between us. Her body presses closer, the heat rolling off her like a wildfire.
“You think this is a joke?” she snaps. “I trusted you.”
That catches me off guard.
I narrow my eyes. “You thought I was escaping?”
She doesn’t answer.
Oh.
Oh, that is rich.
I laugh, sharp and humorless, but beneath it, something else stirs—annoyance. Frustration.
Because of course she thinks that.
After everything. After I have fought with her, after I have bled for her, after I have healed her—she still doesn’t trust me?
It’s a slap to the face. A burn that lingers.
I wrench my wrist from her grasp, stepping closer, pushing into her space until she is forced to tilt her head down to meet my gaze. “If I wanted to leave,” I murmur, voice low and sharp, “I would have.” My lips curl, taunting. “If I wanted you dead, you would be.”
Her jaw clenches.
“You distrust me so much that even now, when I am at your side, when I have done nothing but help you, you still think I would betray you?” I tilt my head. “You wound me, Nyxara.”
Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t pull away.
“I have been loose in this castle for weeks. I have walked its halls, dined at your tables, slept in your bed”— I smirk as her pupils dilate — “and yet, I am still here. Bound to you. Bound by choice.”
I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “I was not trying to run. I was siphoning energy from my realm. Refueling. How do you expect me to help win your war if you won’t even let me access the magic I need to fight beside you?”
A muscle ticks in her jaw.
She knows I’m right.
And that only makes her angrier.
“I do not need your help.” The words are cold. Dismissive.
And I snarl.
I shove against her, not enough to move her, but enough to make my point. “Liar.” My voice is venom, dark and sharp. “You do need me. You bound yourself to me because you knew you couldn’t do this alone. And yet, you refuse to trust me. Why?”
She stiffens.
I see it then. The flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
I exhale, forcing myself to calm.
Forcing myself to understand.
There is more to her fear than just my power.
I shift tactics.
My voice drops into something softer, something deadly. “Or,” I hum, tilting my head, my lips grazing the shell of her ear, “are you afraid of what I might do with that power?”
Her breath catches.
Ah.
That’s it, isn’t it?
My lips curve into a slow, knowing grin.
Her claws twitch against the table, her fingers flexing, like she’s seconds from either shoving me away or pulling me closer.
I reach for her, trailing my fingers lightly down the inside of her wrist, slow and deliberate.
“Tell me, Dragon Queen,” I whisper, voice like smoke. “What is it you truly fear?”
Her pupils blow wide.
She tries to hide it, but I see it—the truth lingering just beneath the surface.
She’s not just afraid of my power.
She’s afraid of me.
Afraid of how much she wants me.
Afraid of what it means.
I don’t give her time to think.
I let my magic slip between us, a tendril of water slithering along her thigh, teasing beneath the folds of her robe, a cool contrast to the heat radiating from her.
She shudders.
Fucking hell .
I revel in it.
Her breathing turns sharp, uneven, and I watch as her control frays, watch the tension coil in her shoulders, in the delicate clench of her jaw.
I lean in, pressing my lips against her jawline, trailing slow, teasing kisses down the curve of her throat, feeling her magic coil beneath her skin, struggling for control.
She trembles.
My tongue flicks out, tracing the hollow of her collarbone.
"Do you want me to stop?" I murmur, voice dark, taunting, lips grazing the swell of her chest.
A sharp inhale.
Her nails bite into my arms, a snarl curling at the edges of her breath.
Then—
Heat.
A burning grip on my hip, the crash of her mouth against mine.
She devours me, all teeth and fire and rage.
I moan into her, my fingers threading into the wild lengths of her hair as my tentacles explore, teasing beneath the silk of her robe, curling against the soft heat between her thighs.
She gasps, her back arching.
I take advantage.
My tongue flicks over the peak of her breast, teasing, testing, before I close my lips around it, sucking just enough to feel the sharp inhale of her breath, the way her fingers tighten around my shoulders, like she’s losing herself to this.
To me.
Her magic flares in response, wild and furious, licking at my skin like flame, but I do not pull away.
I want the burn.
I want the sting.
I want her .
I shift lower, trailing my mouth down the flat of her stomach, my hands gripping her thighs, spreading her just enough—
She rips away.
Chest heaving. Eyes wild.
"Enough." Her voice is wrecked, her pupils blown, but her fingers curl into the table behind her, desperate for something to hold onto.
I grin, licking my lips, tasting her skin.
"If you ever do that again," she rasps, voice wrecked, "I will chain you back in the warded cell myself."
A thrill dances down my spine.
I let my gaze rake over her—her kiss-bruised lips, the flush along her throat, the way she still trembles.
My smirk widens.
"I’d like to see you try."