He lowered me onto the blankets I'd smuggled out here days ago, spreading me beneath him with reverent hands. When his fingers found me slick and ready, a smile of satisfaction curved his lips.
"Always ready for mate," he murmured, pressing two fingers inside me, making me gasp at the sudden intrusion.
"Only you," I breathed, though the words weren't entirely true. My heart still belonged to others as well—to Marcus with his quiet strength, to Tarshi with his fierce devotion, even to Septimus with his complicated passion. But with Sirrax, there was something different, something primal that existed beyond conscious choice.
As if sensing my thoughts, he growled low in his throat, his fingers curling inside me to find that spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. "Mine," he insisted. "My mate."
I couldn't argue—not with his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue delving into my core with devastating precision. My back arched off the blankets, a cry escaping me before I could stifle it. His large hands gripped my thighs, holding me open for his assault as his tongue worked magic, circling and flicking until I was writhing beneath him.
"Please," I gasped, my hands fisting in his hair. "I need you inside me."
He raised his head, golden eyes glowing with hunger. "Say it," he demanded, his voice rough. "Say who you belong to."
"You," I whispered, the word torn from me by need rather than conviction. "I'm yours, Sirrax."
Satisfaction rumbled through him as he moved up my body, positioning himself between my thighs. The head of his cock pressed against my entrance, teasing, not quite giving me what I needed.
"Mine," he growled one final time before pushing forward, stretching me in that familiar burn that bordered on pain before melting into exquisite pleasure.
I gasped as he filled me completely, my body adjusting to his size as it always did. The strange ridges along his shaft created friction that sent waves of sensation through me with each thrust. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper as he established a rhythm that had me clawing at his shoulders.
"Perfect," he murmured, his pace increasing. "Made for this. For me."
I couldn't deny it—my body responded to him with an intensity that defied explanation, as though it recognized him on some fundamental level beyond conscious thought. I shattered, my release crashing through me in waves that left me gasping his name.
He followed moments later, his body tensing above mine as he filled me with his seed, marking me in the most primal way possible. For several heartbeats, we remained joined, panting, his forehead resting against mine as our breathing steadied.
Eventually, he rolled to my side, pulling me against his chest. His heat surrounded me like a living blanket, warmer than any fire. "When?" he asked, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my back.
I didn't need him to elaborate. We'd had this conversation before. "I don't know," I admitted, the familiar weight of responsibility settling over me once more. "I can't just free all the dragons at once. The chaos would be unimaginable. People would die."
"People dying now," he rumbled. "Slowly. Inside."
The truth of his words struck me to the core. Each day I watched the other dragons in training—massive, beautiful creatures bound by iron collars that hid their true nature. I sawnow what I'd missed before—the intelligence in their eyes, the subtle signs of their suffering. And I did nothing.
"The mission comes first," I reminded him, though the words tasted bitter. "The Emperor has to pay for what he's done—to my family, to yours, to everyone. Once he's gone, we can change things. Free all of you."
Sirrax's chest rumbled with a sound too complex to be simple agreement or disagreement. "Understand. Don't like."
I pressed a kiss to his chest, over his heart. "I don't like it either. But I need more time, need to understand how the collars work, how to release them without causing panic."
He nodded, his chin brushing the top of my head. "Trust mate."
We lay in silence for a while, our bodies cooling in the night air. Soon I would need to return to my quarters, to wash away his scent before dawn training. But for now, I allowed myself this moment of peace, of connection, before the complications of the day reasserted themselves.
"Something else bothers mate," Sirrax observed, his deep voice rumbling through his chest beneath my ear.
I sighed. He knew me too well already, could sense my moods through our strange bond. "It's not just the dragons," I admitted. "It's everything. Septimus and Tarshi have been acting strange lately. I can't put my finger on it, but something's different between them."
"Fighting more? Less?"
"Different," I said, searching for the right words. "They still argue, still glare at each other, but it feels... performative somehow. And sometimes I catch them watching each other when they think no one's looking."
Sirrax made a noncommittal sound, his hand continuing its gentle exploration of my back.
"And then there's Jalend," I continued, the memory of our latest encounter warming my cheeks. "He's been helping me with the theoretical aspects of dragon-riding. I think he suspects something—not about you specifically, but that I'm hiding something."
"Dangerous?" Sirrax's body tensed slightly beneath me.
