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I’m agitated and it makes my skin crawl. Rubbing the base of my neck, I get up and start pacing after putting on a pair of black pajama pants. The fabric chafes me and I wonder whether to go down to the gym and spend some quality time with the punching bag, or if I should just sit and write my thoughts down.
It usually helps and I grab a pen and paper, but then I don’t move.
Kylie just let out a low moan in her sleep and my hand is frozen, my mind blanking.
I drag a strained breath when my room turns hotter than a sauna and throw a look at myself in the mirror.Fuck.Steam is coming off of me and if I lay down in bed now, I’ll burn the sheets. I have to do something about this.
Opening up the balcony doors, I fly out, ignoring the rain whipping against my face and soar through the air toward Kylie’s window. She didn’t pull her curtains and the moonlight illuminates her small frame, cowering beneath the duvet. Her face is turned to the wall, but suddenly shifts toward me as if pulled by a magnet.
It’s as if she could feel me and I stop breathing.
“Kylie...,” I groan as lustful agony tears in me.
That’s my mate right there and my heart swells with pride.
Another small moan leaves her lips and she gasps as if she’s dreaming about something. I lean my forehead against the glass and stop blinking, wanting to shatter the barrier and be there with her.
I’m as close as I can get and I raise a palm, flattening it against the glass, imagining I’m touching her. A dragon’s touch is addictive. Some even find it so thrilling they experience withdrawal symptoms if they’re denied.
Kylie drags a quick, shallow breath, causing her chest to rise. Her arms are bare, which means she’s sleeping in the nude. Groaning, I lose height when my wings cave but I push up again, seriously considering crawling into bed with her. I’m even tempted to startle her, just so that she twitches and the duvet slides down.
Fuck, the serpentine qualities in me are rising to the surface, and I usually don’t even acknowledge them.
Using pure self-control I rein myself in but it’s slipping. She’s too tempting. The girl is tailor-made for me and I want to inch inside her personal dark, little cave. She’d squeeze me tight, pull me in deeper and deeper and my temples pound.
Before her, everything was in order and now all I feel is chaos.
I’ll have to tell her that she’s mine but not yet. Valkyries are notoriously overprotective of themselves and I don’t want her to panic at the thought of mating with a Draugar.
My bloodline is strong. It was here even before time existed. And the Draugar blood needs to continue...which means my instinct will push for offsprings.
Kylie twitches in her sleep as if she can hear my thoughts, but then she eases, breathing evenly. I remain outside her window until the sun rises.Waiting. Wanting.
Hankering for what is mine.
****
Kylie
I’ve slept like the dead throughout the whole night but I had the weirdest dream. I dreamed about Craven, flying outside my window while keeping an eye on me. At one point, I thought I heard him growling but it must’ve been the panes rattling from the bad weather.
Yawning, I stretch and sit up. The clouds have cleared outside, making way for the sun and I jump out of bed, feeling light and bright. It’s been a long time since I was in this good of a mood. Being held captive seems to suit me.
I let out an amused snort and put on my own clothes, since Craven probably wants his shirt back. Tightening the corset over my waist, I groan when my breasts spill out. They’re so indecent like this, begging for attention.
So, I tighten the corset a little more.
I open up the door but gasp when I bump into Craven as if he was lying in wait. He opens his mouth to say something but trails off, his eyes lowering until they almost bulge out of his skull. Heat licks over my skin and it’s coming from his gaze. Leaning against the doorway, I feel myself flush.
“Um...I got you your shirt,” I murmur, handing it to him but he shakes his head, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the view I put on display for him.
“Keep it. I want you to wear it.”
Then I’ll wear it all the time but why does he have a sweater on? I’m a little bummed out that I can’t ogle his muscles, but I can entertain myself by looking at his mouth. It’s just as sculpted as everything else on the man, including probably even his...
I pinch my lip, trying not to fan myself and cross the threshold.
“Hungry?” Craven rasps, raising his brows. “I have something for you.” Leading me into the kitchen, he opens up the cupboard and fridge, then turns to me with a self-satisfied look on his face.
