"I distrust expensive men with wings."
"I do not have wings in this form."
"That is not the point, Malric."
No, it was not. I inclined my head once. "No strings."
The ring on her finger warmed, gold light moving over her knuckles. The cursed thing approved again. I gave it a look. Belinda saw and almost smiled.
"Don't glare at the ring because it has sense."
"It is disobedient."
"Sounds familiar."
Moses arrived with healers and fire cleansers. Julius followed, dressed too finely for a burned bakery, face grim as he took in the damage. I issued orders until the street outside filled with dragons, workers, and wardsmiths. Fireproof glass, stone reinforcement, new counters, gold transferred quietly to cover every lost hour of business. Belinda listened to each order like she expected to find a trap in the grammar.
Very good. Let her inspect me. Let her test every word. I had failed enough by assuming she should simply trust my power.
When we returned to the aerie, she refused a bed in the healing rooms and sat on the examination table like she owned the place. Her arm was burned where the ring had pulled too much from her. The sight made my fire go cold.
"May I touch you?" I asked.
Her gaze flicked up. "For healing?"
"Yes."
"If this turns into dragon nonsense, I still have the dagger."
"I know."
She offered me her hand. Trust small as an ember. I held it carefully. Her skin was warm. Her pulse jumped beneath my fingers. The scent of smoke clung to her, but under it was sugar, sweat, woman.
My dick hardened with brutal disloyalty. I hated myself for it. She had nearly died. I wanted to worship every inch of her because she had survived. My thumb brushed the inside of her wrist as gold fire answered white. She inhaled sharply.
"Does it hurt?" I asked.
"A little."
"I can stop."
She watched me. "Don't."
The word went through me like a blade heated in flame. Do not imagine her saying that in your bed, I ordered myself. My mind disobeyed. I saw her beneath me, braids spread across black sheets, thighs open around my hips, mouth slick from my kisses. I imagined her hand in my hair, her voice rough, telling me not to stop while my [ __ ] drove deep enough to ruin both our composure.
I released her hand the moment the burn healed. Belinda looked at me.
"You're doing that staring thing again."
"I am restraining several instincts."
"Put them on a leash."
"I am trying."
Her mouth twitched. That almost smile nearly undid me more than her anger.
"Tonight," I said, "you will start sleeping in my room."
"With me." The almost smile vanished. "Excuse me."
"My chambers are the most heavily warded in the eyrie. The inner doors answer only to my blood and fire."
"That sounds like a fancy prison."
"It has windows."
"Malric."
I exhaled through my nose. "It is not a command."
"Then say it better."
I ground my teeth. Dragons did not beg in healing rooms. Apparently, I did.
"Sleep in my room tonight," I said. "Please."
Her brows lifted. "Why?"
"Because I will be more at ease with you in my sight."
She studied me for a long moment. "And there are no other intentions?"
"There were."
"A thousand."
I wanted her in my bed. I wanted her laugh in my dark. I wanted her sleepy and warm beside me at dawn. I wanted my mouth between her thighs and my name in her throat. I wanted my scent on her skin so every dragon in the world knew approaching her meant death. But I had promised, so I gave her the truth and the restraint.
"Only if you want it to be," I said. "Otherwise, no."
Belinda's eyes dropped to my mouth, then lower as if she knew exactly what my body was thinking. My dick had no shame, neither did she.
"That is almost a decent answer," she said. "Fine, I'll sleep in your room because assassins keep finding me, not because you ordered me."
"Agreed."
"I want my own blanket."
"Done."
"A lock on the bathroom."
"Done."
"And if your dick gets any ideas, tell it I own a dragon steel dagger now."
My [ __ ], treacherous beast, remained interested. "I will inform it," I said.