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I grab Midas’s arm. Panic floods my body, threatening to pull me under. “You can’t.”
Midas ignores me and snarls at his brother. “I accept.”
“Wait,” I beg. “Don’t do this now. What if I don’t accept, and Midas has to give up the throne anyway? At least wait until the end of the week.” That will buy me some time to figure out how to get Midas out of this fight without having to kill his brother or give up his throne.
I want to be with Midas. If it was just about him and me, I might become a dragon tonight. But it’s not just about us. Becoming his mate would mean becoming a queen, and I’m not sure I want that. I would be horrible at it.
Midas gives me a pained look. It’s clear he hates even thinking about me turning him down. But he’s weighing the options. It’s clear he believes he would win against the younger dragon, but it’s also obvious he doesn’t want to kill his brother.
There’s a flicker of something akin to relief on Cyrus’ face that I barely catch. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s afraid he won’t win, or because he also doesn’t want to kill his brother.
“Will the goddess allow it?” Midas asks, looking at a man off to the right of the dais.
He steps forward with a low bow. Midas bows in return, and I realize this man has some kind of standing within their society. He has a brand on his right cheek, and when my gaze inadvertently flicks down, I realize, to my horror, he’s an eunuch.
“I will have to consult the runes,” he says.
“Very well. Do so.”
The man instantly turns into a dragon and lifts into the sky.
“Enough of this,” Midas waves in his brother’s direction like he’s dismissing a fly. “The goddess wants her tithe and her revelry.”
Cyrus’ jaw ticks as he clenches it. With the cocky smile wiped from his face, he looks even more like his brother.
Midas breathes fire on the floor in front of us, and it melts, becoming a small pool of liquified gold. His nails shift into claws, and he slices through his right palm and then his left. I gasp as blood drips through his clenched fists.
The urge to bandage and care for those wounds is so strong I reach for his hand, but he steps away from me, down the steps and right in front of the pool. He lets his blood drip over the gold, creating swirls of color as he says something in a language I don’t understand.
Once he’s finished, he walks back to my side. I immediately grab his hand, but his palms have already healed. There’s not even a scar. The blood coating his hands is the only sign that anything happened. It makes me even more curious about the scar on his face and the ones the others carry.
One by one, the other dragons come up to the pool and offer their blood. As each one steps away, they begin to dance. In the corner of the room, a group of dragons play drums in a steady surging melody that makes my heart pound, like it’s trying to keep up. The energy grows and grows. The dance becomes wilder and more uninhibited with each person who contributions their blood.
Midas lounges on the steps of the dais and pulls me down into his lap. I can’t take my eyes off the dancers. Their movements aren’t like any dance I’ve ever seen. There’s something primal about it. They spin and stomp their feet, holler and sing, breath fire up into the sky. The whole room becomes a blend of skin. Breasts bounce in time with the rhythm, cocks hardened with the pulsing of the drums. It isn’t sexual—not exactly. No one is touching. There’s a distance between each of them. Like they’re in their own little bubble.
But it is sensual, animalistic, feral.
My nipples peak and throb, the area between my thighs pulses and clenches. My skin warms with a fire that burns deep in my core.
After everyone has made their offering, things change. Midas grabs hold of my shoulders and twists me to face him. I respond to his manhandling by straddling his lap. He’s already hard, and it makes wonder who he was watching as they danced. Which of these women has he slept with?
I turn my head, looking for Monica. Even with all he’s said, I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to end up like her—pining after a man who’s moved on.
Before the sick feeling of jealousy can settle, Midas grabs my chin. “Eyes on me, Jeslyn. I don’t want you looking at anyone but me.”
“Well, I don’t want you watching all those naked women shake their asses, either. I can see what it does to you.” I flick my gaze down to his cock jutting up between us.
He chuckles, low and rich. “I was looking at you, my queen.” He cups his ridged cock. “This is only because of you. Only for you. From now until the goddess turns me to fire.”
I swallow, wishing I wasn’t wearing so much clothing.
Midas kisses the side of my neck. “When you transform, we will dance the Goddess Dance until the rhythm catches in our blood. Then I’ll pound you to the same beat until you come with the force of the drums and just as loudly.” A slow, confident grin spreads across his face. “I want your moans to drown out the music. I want everyone to know how I make you feel.”
I’m sweating, aching. My whole body feels like it’s going to burn up from the desire raging through me.
“I want that.” I stand up, taking his hand so we can dance, tugging to get him to join me, but he doesn’t budge. A second later, I’m back on his lap, pulled down by his strength. This time I’m sitting between his legs, facing the dancers.
“Not yet, little gem.” His voice is sympathetic, gentle. “You would not survive this dance without a dragon’s heart.” His hands go to my jacket, dragging it off my shoulders and dropping it to the floor next to us. “I’m going to let you watch, but only because I want all of them to see that you’re mine. I’ll let you look this one time, but I’m the only man who will touch you from now on. If they even try, I’ll kill them before they so much as brush a fingertip across your skin.”
