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A faint smile breaks through his normally stern expression. He arches a brow. “Even if I am an arrogant Dragon, as you claim?”
“Yes.” I cannot help but grin in return.
His gaze travels over my face like a gentle caress, and he squeezes my hand. “I care for you as well, Freyja.” His expression hardens. “And I forbid you to die.”
A short huff of air escapes me in a laugh. “Well then, I will try my best to stay alive.”
“See that you do.”
A small shiver runs through me. Not from the cold, but from the way his gaze holds mine—fierce and intense. “You areval’nara,” he says reverently.
“What is that?”
“The direct translation is ‘one with a heart of fire,’” he says solemnly. “Fireheart. In the ancient tongue of my people.”
High praise from a Dragon. Pride fills my chest. “Thank you for the compliment.”
“It was not meant as a compliment.” He frowns. “It is truth.”
Well, now it’s an even bigger compliment than it was before, and I cannot help the smile that curves my lips.
He lowers himself into the bed beside me and I feel the familiar tug around my waist as he pulls me into him, draping his wing over me like a blanket, cocooning me in his warmth and his scent. “Is that better?” his voice rumbles in my ear. “Are you warm enough now?”
Heat suffuses my entire body as I recall our kiss, and the way he pinned me against the wall and practically devoured me with his lips and his tongue. Desire pools deep in my belly as I whisper against his chest. “Yes.”
He lowers his head, skimming the tip of his nose along my neck, and I inhale shakily, both nervous and excited at the thought of his touch, hoping he will kiss me again. Instead, he draws in a deep breath, and I frown. “What are you doing?” I ask, although I’m fairly certain I already know, and a pang of disappointment moves through me. I’d hoped we might repeat what happened between us in the hallway.
“This entire place reeks of Dwarf,” he grumbles, and I laugh softly. “Your scent is the only pleasing one in this entire inn.”
“Glad I can help you out like this,” I say sarcastically, even as a smile tilts my lips at his dramatics.
“It’s the least you could do,” he replies, matter-of-factly. “Especially after I stayed by your side all night while you were unconscious. The stench is terrible here. You have no idea how much I’ve suffered.”
I bite back a laugh because I’m fairly sure he is serious. “I can only imagine.”
Gently, he nuzzles my temple and my heart pounds in my chest as desire flares brightly within. “Your scent has changed,” he murmurs into my hair. “It is much sweeter now.”
He pulls back and cups my chin, gently tracing his thumb across my lower lip. “It is the same as when we kissed.” His intense gaze holds mine. “Does this mean you desire me?”
“I—” I open my mouth to speak, but the words will not come. After a moment, I clear my throat, composing myself. Why does he fluster me so? “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I deny. “Besides, that was a pretend kiss earlier anyway.”
“Shall I give you a real kiss then?” he whispers, leaning in just enough to brush his lips against mine. The featherlight touch is soft and unexpected.
Heat flushes my entire body, and I draw in a shaking breath, breathing in the warm scent of ginger spice—a potent and heady mix—as he pulls back and presses a tender kiss to my jaw.
“Tell me you do not want me, and I will stop, Princess Freyja,” he murmurs against my sensitive skin as he presses his lips to the space just behind my ear. I tilt my head to one side, as he kisses a trail down my neck. Small ripples of pleasure move through me as a low growl vibrates in his chest. “Tell me to stop,” he whispers. “Or I will kiss you again.”
I draw in a shaking breath, but remain silent. I’m nervous, but I want the feel of his lips on my own again. He pulls back and his eyes search mine. “Tell me what you want.”
Cautiously, I reach up and touch his face, studying the stern set of his features that soften as he studies me in return. He is a King, and a Dragon, no less. He is used to taking what he wants, and I love that he does not do this with me. Whatever happens between us, it is my choice.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
Fiery possession burns in his gaze as he stares down at me a moment before crushing his lips to mine in a searing kiss, stealing the breath from my lungs.
He skims his hand down the length of my body, the tips of his fingers trailing along my outer thigh. He cups the back of my knee and pulls it over his hip. He curls his tail around my ankle, holding me in place as the length of him presses against my core, hard and insistent.
His kiss is both gentle and demanding all at once. Completely overwhelmed with sensation as his hips roll into mine, all rational thought falls away and the world disappears around us. He wraps his wings even tighter around me, molding my form against his so there is no space between us, and nothing exists outside of the feel of his body as he moves against my own.
