Chapter 27
Raven
I haveno clue what day it is anymore.
Finlay collapsed on the floor hours ago, his skin still damp against the cool stone tiles. He and Keir tried double-teaming me, and it exhausted them far faster than it did me. My fingertips still tingle where I gripped Keir’s shoulders, the phantom impression of his muscles bunching beneath my palms lingering like a ghost.
Hemlocke lasts longer—hours longer. From what I remember, black unicorn stallions were once expected to service entire herds in a single night, back when the ratio was ten to fifteen mares per male. Now those numbers are reversed. All that stamina with nowhere to channel it.
Until me.
He’s asleep on the cushions in my reading nook, his obsidian hair gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat, chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. The velvet fabric beneath him is dark with moisture; the cushions molded to the shape of his spent body.
Corvus tapped out hours ago and hasn’t stirred since. His arm dangles off the edge of my couch, knuckles grazing the floor, skin still flushed with warmth.
That leaves Solaris.
He steps into my chambers and surveys the bodies littered across the room. The corner of his mouth twitches. Heat radiates off him in waves—I feel it from across the room, a tangible press against my already over-sensitized skin.
“How are ye feelin, lass?”
I watch him shrug off his housecoat. The fabric pools at his feet in a whisper of silk, and my gaze tracks its descent—so fixed on the slow fall that I don’t register him moving until it’s too late. The mattress dips beneath his weight. His palms sear into my hips like brands, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise. Before I know what’s happening, he has me flipped onto my stomach, the tangled sheets dragging rough against my peaked nipples, and he enters me in one smooth, devastating thrust.
The stretch burns. Deliciously. Perfectly.
His teeth sink into the back of my neck, holding me in place while he moves. The bite radiates heat down my spine, sharp, and grounding, his jaw flexing against my skin with each controlled snap of his hips. His chest presses hot and solid against my back, the coarse hair there rasping against my shoulder blades with every movement. Sweat slicks between us, making our bodies glide together.
Every thrust drives me up the bed, the friction of silk sheets beneath my stomach maddening, until I dig my wing claws and talons into the mattress to anchor myself. The fabric tearsbeneath my grip, feathers and down spilling free. He growls, the sound so deep it vibrates through my bones and settles low in my belly, and my dragoness quiets beneath my skin with a contented rumble. The scales along my spine rise and fall in response, prickling with sensation.
I feel the moment the heat breaks—that desperate, clawing edge finally dulling to something manageable—but it doesn’t slow Solaris. His grip tightens on my hips, fingertips pressing deep enough to find bone. He moves harder. Faster. More demanding than before. The slap of his skin against mine echoes through the chamber, obscene and rhythmic.
Something shifts within him. I feel it in the way his muscles coil tighter, the way his breath turns ragged and hot against my shoulder. His shaft grows more textured, ridges forming along its length, thickening with each stroke until I swear I feel him everywhere at once—stretching me, filling me, consuming me. The pressure builds at my entrance, an unfamiliar fullness that makes my thighs tremble.
He releases my neck—the sudden absence of his teeth leaves the skin throbbing, cool air stinging the indentations—and draws me up to kneel. His arm bands across my stomach, palm splayed wide and possessive over my navel. My spine arches against his chest as my orgasm crashes through me in violent waves, my inner walls clenching around him so hard my vision whites at the edges. Solaris presses his lips to the side of my throat, right over his original mate mark. The raised scar tissue tingles beneath his mouth, nerve endings sparking to life as his tongue traces the familiar pattern.
“Mature drakes have a secret.” His voice is rough velvet against my ear, breath fanning hot across my cheek. His free hand slides up my ribs, calloused palm rasping over each bone until hisfingers curl around my breast, kneading the soft flesh. “One only their mates discover.”
He drives himself impossibly deep, the head of his shaft nudging something inside me that makes my toes curl against the ruined sheets. That’s when it happens.
His shaft changes shape, swelling at the base. The pressure builds—stretching, stretching, stretching—until he locks within me with an audible click of bone and cartilage, his body fused to mine. He roars his release; the sound shaking the walls, vibrating through every point where our skin connects. Wet heat floods my core in pulsing waves, each spurt pushing against my already-full walls.
The rhythmic throbbing sends me spiraling over the edge with him again. I roar alongside him, my wings snapping out to full extension, the thin membrane pulled taut and trembling with the force of my release. The stretch in my wing joints burns gloriously. My scales ripple in time with the pulsing of his shaft, iridescent black shimmering across my skin in waves that start at my spine and cascade outward to my fingertips. Every nerve ending ignites. His release drags mine out for what feels like an eternity—endless waves cresting and breaking until my thighs shake, my arms give out, and my vision blurs at the edges.
His hand slides from my breast to press flat against my lower belly, and I swear I can feel him pulsing from both sides—inside and out.
Eventually, the throbbing slows. The waves gentle to ripples, then still completely.
I fold my wings in; the joints aching with a satisfying sort of exhaustion, and he pulls us down to lie on our sides, still lockedtogether. The knot tugs at my entrance with the movement, drawing a weak whimper from my throat. His arm slides over me, heavy and possessive, his palm finding my breast again and cupping it with absent gentleness. His thumb brushes lazily across my nipple, still peaked and sensitive. Warm lips brush behind my ear, the scratch of his stubble raising goosebumps down my neck.
“We can knot our mates too,” he murmurs against my skin.
His purr reverberates through my back, so deep I feel it in my chest, in my teeth, in the marrow of my bones. My body melts against him like heated wax, every muscle unwinding at once. His warmth cocoons me—his chest against my back, his thighs cradling mine, his arm a brand across my ribs. The knot pulses lazily inside me, a gentle reminder of our connection.
Sleep claims me faster than it ever has before.
I awaken some time later,and the urge hits me like a physical blow to the chest.
Go to ground.
