“He won’t wait long,” I warned, fingers plucking the tiara off my head. She snorted and helped me slip out of my dress.
The bath water steamed, infused with fragrant oils. She worked quick, efficient. This wasn’t a ceremonial cleansing—it was preparation. Quick and purposeful.
Last night, I had been scrubbed raw. Tonight, only one layer was needed—scented, silken, ready.
After braiding my hair, she draped a silver lace gown over me, sheer and suggestive. The fabric clung to curves, delicate ridges scraping softly across my too-sensitive skin.
“Wait,” she murmured, then pulled a single strand of hair loose, letting it curl against my collarbone. “There.” She stepped back to admire her work, then gave a low whistle. “He won’t be able to resist.”
If only she knew how good he was at resisting.
“Thank you. Now shoo.” I laughed, nudging her toward the door.
She flung it open.
Kallias sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in a picture of patience. His tunic hung loose again. He stared at the floor.
Then he saw me.
Freya vanished in a blink.
He straightened when I moved to stand in front of him, his gaze trailing down my body, throat bobbing, fingers tightening over his knees. “Any more interruptions?”
“Would you like a bath?” I teased, grinning at his glare. “No? Then the night is ours, my king.”
“Thank Elohios.” His tunic hit the bed and his hands found my waist. Thumbs pressed into my belly, grounding me.
His gaze roamed—intense, deliberate. My shoulders, my breasts, the lines of my hips beneath lace. He drank me in.
“You’ve robbed me,” he said, voice graveled with restraint and desire. “I should have undressed you.”
I cupped the nape of his neck. “Maybe I can make it up to you.”
He stood, hands sliding higher until they tangled in my hair. He tugged, gently tilting my head back. A gasp slipped free.
He flinched.
“Is this good?” he whispered.
That soft tremor, the fear buried in his question broke me. I answered without words, pressing closer. My fingers worked at his belt.
“Nienna,” he breathed, loosening his grip. “Tell me if I go too far.”
His jaw clenched. Something flickered behind his eyes. A shadow. A memory. His breath hitched as he hesitated.
“You can’t hurt me.”
“I very well can,” he rasped. “Don’t take it from me. If I cause you pain–”
I silenced his doubts and fears with a kiss. Fierce. Reassuring. Whatever Eldeiade did to him, I had the rest of our lives to undo—one night at a time.
When I pulled back, I met his gaze. “Kallias, I am the Dragon’s Heart. You cannot hurt me.”
He stared, brow furrowed, digesting my words.
“Now,” I whispered, “kiss me.”
Something broke free behind his expression, reigniting the heat and need.
