“Does it help?” I ask. “Asking them if they want it?”
There’s no answer for a long beat. I wish she’d face me.
Aurora finally twists to catch my eye. There’s an unnatural coldness in her gaze. A hardness she’s constructed and keeps reinforcing, just to stay sane. A spark of resentment in her expression at my question.
“I’m just saying, he deserved it. They all deserve it. I make sure of that, Aura.”
I'm not sure if it’s my words, or my nickname for her that does it, but that cold resentment cracks. I see the deep grief that’s plagued her since the day I met her.
The arousal still coursing through my body is immediately extinguished.
“I know you do,” she says quietly. Her gaze slides over to the John’s corpse.
I step in the way, blocking her view. “Hey. Don’t.”
Suddenly we are inches away. She smells like sex and candy, and shamefully my dick twitches as blood rushes south again.
Those impossibly long, dark lashes sweep down as she takes in my bare chest. Obsidian black scales cover half my shoulder and sweep down over the front of my body, fissures of bright red heat cracking through them.
“I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. I’m not sure how much longer they can keep me in this castle.” She says it to my sternum, not looking up.
“Your parents care about you.Icare about you.”
Her lashes sweep up at that, brows snapping together. “Don’t say that. I can’t hear that right now.”
Aurora jerks away to storm off. On instinct I tug her robe, and she twirls around. Too late I’ve realized my mistake. She loses her balance and trips. My throat closes off as my muscles tighten, bracing for impact. Helplessly I watch as her hands land on my bare chest.
The startled animalistic scream of pain she releases lodges itself between my ears in a way that will forever haunt me.
She scrambles away and pulls her hands into her body.
I move toward her, overwhelmed by the need to soothe her pain. She jerks, and I freeze.
“Let me see.” It comes out a desperate rasp.
“It’s fine, Talon. I’m fine,” she says hurriedly.
“Aurora.” Her full name bursts out of me with equal parts command and fear.
With a sigh, she unfurls her trembling hands from her chest. She winces. Violent red blisters mar her burned palms from where she made contact with my flesh and scales.
I’m a fae fucking idiot. Self-reproach hammers my brain and body until I’m almost forced to my knees.
“I’m sorry.” I retreat on shaky legs, raking my hands through my shaggy hair. “Fae lords, I’m so sorry, Aura.”
Tears gleam in her eyes, but they don’t fall. Her robe has fallen open, revealing the glittering threads adorning her naked body. I know they are as much decoration as they are symbolic of chains holding her down, holding her back.
For a moment I’m struck by how we are both imprisoned by our forms. The awareness that neither of us can change our nature is too bitter of a pill to swallow at times.
This is one of those times.
She’s a Succubus who has no choice but to feed to stay alive. And she can’t feed without killing.
I’m a Dragon—perhaps the last of my kind—and my flesh burns all who touch it.
We are each one of a kind. Alone. Together.
Most of the time, we find consolation in that, but moments like now make it nearly impossible to bear.
