Chapter 13
Zane held Mercy against his chest, feeling the rapid flutter of her heartbeat gradually slow to match his own.
Her hair tickled his chin, dark strands still damp with sweat, and he resisted the urge to bury his face in it and breathe her in.
Every instinct screamed at him to wrap her up, carry her somewhere safe, and never let her out of his sight again.
His mate. Finally in his arms where she belonged.
Time was slipping away, and he could feel her starting to think again.
Her muscles tensed slightly against him, the first sign that her walls were rebuilding.
Soon, she'd find some excuse to put distance between them.
Then she'd start talking about leaving again, about finding work on someone else's crew.
He couldn't let that happen. Not when he'd finally found what he hadn't even known he was looking for.
Mercy's fingers traced lazy patterns across his chest, following the lines of muscle and the thin scars he'd accumulated over the years.
Her touch was gentle, almost reverent, like she was memorizing the feel of him.
The sensation sent warmth racing through his veins that had nothing to do with dragon fire.
"You really were going to sabotage some matchmaking meeting?" Her voice held amused disbelief. She tilted her head to look up at him, green eyes still soft with satisfaction but sharpening with curiosity. "Not that I'm complaining, but it seems a bit extreme. Why not just say no?"
How could he explain it without sounding like the spoiled lord she'd initially assumed he was?
"I'm the youngest of three, did you know that?" He kept his tone light, conversational, even as his hand found its way into her hair.
"That's one of the least surprising things I've heard."
The dry delivery made him laugh despite his nerves.
Trust Mercy to cut straight through any attempt at sympathy.
He growled playfully and rolled them both, pinning her beneath him on the wide couch.
Her startled laugh turned into a gasp as he captured her mouth in a quick kiss, nipping at her lower lip until she squirmed against him.
"Okay, I surrender!" She was breathless when he finally pulled away, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with laughter. "You're the poor, abused youngest brother who was being forced to marry some poor woman to secure your inheritance, is that it?"
"Not exactly." The assumption stung more than it should have. He didn't want her thinking he was some penniless younger son trading his title for financial security. Money had never been an issue for any of his family. "I'm not poor."
"Well?" She traced her fingers along his jaw, the simple touch making it hard to concentrate on words. "What's the real story then?"
He settled back beside her, pulling her against his side where she fit like she'd been made for the space. Outside, the resort's evening entertainment was beginning. Soft music drifted up from the pools below, mixing with distant laughter and the gentle splash of water.
"My brothers, Rook and Vex, just found their mates. One right after the other, as if by magic." He couldn't keep the snort of disbelief from his voice. The timing had been absurd, both of them falling head over heels within weeks of each other.
And now here he was …
He had to press on.
Mercy gave him a look that was equal parts amused and incredulous. "You're a dragon and you don't believe in magic?"
Okay, fair point. He breathed fire and could transform into a creature of legend, yet he'd always approached life with cold logic. Maybe that was part of his problem.
"I believe in the here and now." The words came out softer than he'd intended. The here and now was Mercy, warm and willing in his arms. The rest could wait.
She studied his face for a moment, something flickering in her eyes before she looked away. "Go on. About your brothers."
Right. The explanation she deserved. "Anyway, my family decided it was time for me to end my ne'er-do-well ways and settle down. They arranged this meeting with the Royal Matchmaker. I couldn't say no."
"Why not?" Her fingers had found their way back to his chest, tracing idle patterns that made it difficult to focus on anything else.
This was the part that made him sound like exactly the privileged lord she'd initially pegged him as. But she'd asked, and he owed her honesty.
"It's difficult to say no to your uncle. Especially when he's the king."
Mercy went very still against him. Her hand froze mid-motion, palm flat against his ribs. He could practically hear her mind working, putting together pieces she hadn't had before.
"Your uncle is the king," she repeated slowly. "Of dragons."
"Well, of Vemion, but yes."
"Which makes you …"
"Somewhere in line for the throne, technically.
Though it's not something I think about much.
" The succession had never mattered to him.
He had plenty of cousins in line ahead of him.
He'd been content to play the useless younger brother, free to pursue his own interests without the weight of expectation.
Until now. Until her.
She sat up abruptly, the sheet pooling around her waist as she stared at him. "You're royalty. Actual royalty."
"Dragon lord, but yes, technically." He reached for her, wanting to pull her back down beside him, but she evaded his grasp.
"And you were on my cargo ship why, exactly?" Her voice had gone carefully neutral, the way it did when she was processing something she didn't like.
This was going wrong. He’d told her part of it before, but now he owed her a bigger, real explanation.
"I thought if I showed up in transport not fit for a lord … not that your ship wasn't wonderful …" He caught her hand before she could retreat further, pressing her palm back against his chest. "And played my most rakish self, whatever lady the Matchmaker found for me would run screaming."
Mercy's expression was unreadable. She didn't pull away, but she didn't relax either. "I see. And what are you going to do when we get out of this mess?"
The question hit him hard. She was already planning their separation, already thinking past whatever this was between them. As if what they'd just shared was nothing more than stress relief, a pleasant interlude before returning to their separate lives.
"I'm not looking for someone else."
The words came out more intense than he'd intended, weighted with everything he didn't know how to say. About the way his dragon had recognized her from the first moment. About how her fire had answered his call.
She studied his face, searching for something he hoped she could find. Her green eyes held wariness now, the same caution she'd shown when he'd first walked onto her ship. Like she was waiting for the catch, the moment when he'd reveal this was all some elaborate game.
"Mercy." He shifted to face her fully, taking both her hands in his.
They were still marked with injuries from the pirates, still callused from years of hard work.
Beautiful hands that had saved his life, that had touched him with such reverence.
"I've been running from commitment my entire life.
From duty, from expectations, from anything that felt like a cage. "
Her breath caught slightly, but she didn't speak.
"I don't want to run from this." He lifted one of her hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "From you. What we have … it's different. It feels …"
"Feels what?" The question was barely a whisper.
"Right." The word was inadequate for what he actually meant. Destined. Inevitable. Written in fire and stars and the very fabric of the universe. But he couldn't say that without sounding insane. "Like I've been looking for you my whole life without knowing it."
The irony wasn't lost on him. His elaborate plan to avoid finding a bride had led him directly to his mate.
He'd boarded her ship intending to play the dissolute failure and instead found the one person who saw through every mask he wore.
Who called him on his lies and saved his life and commanded his fire like she'd been born to it.
"Zane …" Her voice held warning, but also something else. Hope, maybe. Or fear. Possibly both.
"Come to Vemion with me." He tightened his grip on her hands, willing her to understand. "Not just for safety. Because I want to be with you. I want to see what we could build together."
It was a risk. He was asking her to leave everything she knew, to trust him with her future. To take a chance on something that defied logic and probability and everything her hard life had taught her about self-preservation.
But instead of answering, instead of the careful analysis he expected, she leaned forward and kissed him.
This kiss was different from the desperate claiming that had started this. Softer, deeper, weighted with decision and acceptance and something that might have been surrender. She poured herself into it, and he tasted possibility on her lips. Tasted yes.
His arms came around her, pulling her against him. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him close, and he could feel the exact moment her walls crumbled. The moment she stopped fighting what was between them and let herself fall.
They made love again as the sun set outside their windows, slower this time, savoring each touch and kiss and whispered endearment. He worshipped her body with his hands and mouth, memorizing every curve and hollow, every sound she made when he found a particularly sensitive spot.
When she finally took him inside her again, it felt like coming home.
Afterward, as they lay tangled together, Zane allowed himself to hope. She hadn't said yes in words, but her body had given him an answer. Her kiss had tasted like acceptance, like trust, like the beginning of forever.
His mate was in his arms, safe and willing and his.
It had to be enough.