He kisses me possessively, and a deep, carnal need rises within me to match what I taste on his lips. It’s been over a week since we’ve been alone. A week of road filth and the smell of rabble beast. A week of barely serviceable beds. A week of Warbill within hearing distance.
“Those are some filthy thoughts I feel along our bond, Damien. Do you need a bath?” I take his hand and pull him toward the bathroom.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” he mutters.
“It can wait.”
“Thank fuck.”
I figure out the tub, which is harder than it should be. There’s a lever that opens a foot-wide spout, and hot water pours in, filling the basin in seconds. It takes more effort to slide it back into place, but by then, Damien is at my side and places his hand on mine to help me.
“Thanks,” I try to say, but he cuts off the word with another kiss. This one deeper, hungrier. He shifts into shadow and reforms in the tub, leaving his clothes in a pile near my feet.
“No fair. I still have to do this the old-fashioned way,” I say, stripping off my jacket and going to work on my corset.
“You’re a witch with a dragon’s magic, little bird. If you’re struggling with your ties, just burn them off.”
I gasp in feigned indignation, grasping at my nonexistent pearls. “And wreck one of Ariadne’s masterpieces? Not on your life.” I wrestle it off and toss it all over a nearby chair. He growls as I straddle his hips and sink slowly into the hot water. “Mmmm.”
He eases me around so that my back is to his front and reaches for the soap, lathering it between his hands. “One day, you will have more dresses than you can count, designed by Ariadne herself when she isn’t half starved and lusting for your blood. I swear it. Closets of shoes and jewelry.” I take a deep breath and sag against him. The truth is, I care very little about any of that. He seems to notice my lack of enthusiasm because he pauses with a soapy hand on my shoulder. “An art studio, like the one in Harcourt Manor. A place you can create, with a balcony so you can look out on the beauty of your kingdom.”
“Now you’re talking,” I say breathlessly.
“We’ll rehabilitate my father’s dusty library. You can fill a section with books from your world.”
“An art studio and a library. Now I think you just want to get laid.”
He strokes over my breast and my belly in a slow, languid way, his lips finding the back of my ear. “Oh, little bird, if you only knew how much I want you, every minute of every day. What I would do to make you happy.”
He lathers my back, my arms, my neck. The hot water warms me to the core, and the slick glide of his hands makes everywhere we touch sensual, slippery, weightless. He slides them along my sides, over the peaks of my breasts, the flat of my stomach, the mounds of my ass. Hislips brush against my ear, and I hear him inhale as his palms slide along my inner thighs, spreading my legs.
“You’re not tired of me yet?” I chide. “My incessant challenging of your notions of safety and security hasn’t pushed you over the edge?”
His chest rumbles with his laugh. “Saving your life is a hobby I just can’t quit.”
He exhales as he courses his hand down my side to my hip and then tucks it between my legs. His fingers just barely brush my clit before traveling up again, kindling a deep ache low within me. Slow, even strokes. They might be soothing if their friction weren’t driving me mad. He brushes between my legs again, and I lift my hips, chasing the sensation and sending a wave sloshing against the side of the tub.
His low, teasing chuckle fills my ear. “Needy little bird. I hope all this pent-up sexual desire isn’t thanks to a certain Rivertoad king?” He exposes that last part as if it’s a festering wound he needs cleaned out.
I grab his wrist. “No. If I’d wanted to stay, I would have stayed. You were right. The Rivertoads are manipulative. The second Jaqual knew I was the dragon, he wanted me for himself. He wants to rule from Stygarde’s throne. If I’d have stayed with him on his terms, he’d have effectively tamed me and fulfilled the prophecy. You belong on that throne, Damien. No way was I going to fall for that crap.”
He circles my waist with his arm and pulls me close. His hard length presses against my bottom, but he stills his hands. “I know you said it could wait, but if it is not a desire to stay with Jaqual, what has been bothering you since we left the caravan?”
I shift so that he can see my face. Has he thought mysilence was about Jaqual this entire time? “Not since we left. Since we slept. I do have something to talk to you about, but it’s not Jaqual.”
He trails his wet fingers over my neck and shoulder. “What is it, then?”
“Maeve used the Hitch and Cast spell to reach me last night in my dreams. She’s marrying Ren, and she wants me at the wedding. It’s in one week.”
“You should go, but I can’t go with you. Not now. Not when there’s so much to be done.”
I nod. “I thought you’d feel that way, but there’s something else. When I told her we need men, she suggested something I hadn’t thought of before, something I think we should try.”
“And that is?”
“What if we asked Morpheus and Cassius for their help?”
Damien frowns. “Morpheus won’t come. He’s sworn his allegiance to the triune.”
