His eyes burned brighter. "Yes."
"Always?"
"No."
My heart kicked. His hand lifted slow enough for me to refuse and his knuckles brushed the wall beside my shoulder instead of my skin.
"But with you, I would." His voice roughened. "I would prepare you. Slowly. With my mouth, my hands, heat in stages. I would teach your body to trust mine before I ever put my dick inside you."
The air left me. He leaned closer, not touching.
"I would keep my fire banked. I would listen when you breathed differently. I would stop if you said stop. And if I ever burned you without your wanting that heat, I would consider it a failure worthy of blood."
My knees had become unreliable. He knew it, too. The bastard.
"Would you like me to take you through the experience?" he asked. "Only as far as you choose."
My brain offered several answers. Most of them were just profanity. I ducked beneath his arm. Freedom. I took two steps away, breathing hard, proud of myself for escaping his hot cage.
Then I stopped, turned, and kissed him. Hard.
Malrek went still for half a second. Then his restraint cracked just enough to make the room dangerous. His mouth took mine deep and hot, one hand sliding to my waist, the other catching the back of my neck like he had been starving, and I had finally stepped close enough to eat. He did not force me still. He held me like he was asking and claiming at the same time.
I kissed him back. God help me. I kissed him back like I had wanted it since the flowers. His tongue brushed mine, and heat spilled through me, dark and sweet and terrifying. I wanted him. I wanted the experience. I wanted to know what that fire felt like when it was not trying to kill me. I was scared, but I was also his wife. By accident, yes. By dragon law, unfortunately. Still, making out with your husband was not a crime. It was probably stupid, but not a crime.
Malrek turned us, his body pressing closer, and the hard ridge of his dick pushed against my stomach. Rock hard. Very real. Very much not theoretical. I pulled away with a gasp.
He let me go instantly. My lips tingled. My heart slammed against my ribs. His eyes were molten. His breathing rough. But his hands opened at his sides like he was proving he could keep them there.
I turned away before I did something reckless. "I will sleep in Cindy's room tonight."
His silence followed me. Then low and strained. "As you choose."
I did not look back. If I looked back, I was doomed. I walked down the corridor with my mouth swollen, my body humming, and my common sense dragging itself behind me in pieces.
Cindy was already in bed when I entered her room. She lifted her head. "Girl?"
"No questions," I said.
Then I climbed under the covers fully dressed and stared at the ceiling while my ring glowed softly in the dark.
Cindy honored my no questions request for exactly 7 hours, which honestly was generous. I woke up in her guest bed fully dressed, stiff-necked, mouth still tender, and body still acting like Malrek had left fingerprints under my skin. He had not. That was the problem. He had kissed me, held back, let me leave, and somehow that made everything worse.
By dawn, my pants were uncomfortable in a way that made me freeze under the blanket. I shifted once, then stopped. Oh. Oh, that was embarrassing. My panties were soaked. From a kiss. From his hand at my waist. From the memory of his voice saying he would prepare me slowly. From the rock hard bulge of his dick pressing against my stomach like a threat and a promise.
I stared at Cindy's ceiling. Belinda, I whispered to myself, you are a grown woman. Get your life together. My body did not care. My body was a traitor with no respect for political danger.
I slipped out of bed before Cindy woke, grabbed a clean towel from the chair, and went straight to the bathroom. The shower was cold enough to insult my ancestors. This is good. I needed an insult. I stood under the freezing water with my hands braced against the tile, eyes closed, trying not to remember Malachi's mouth. It did not work. The cold water hit my breasts, my belly, the sensitive ache between my thighs, and all I could think was that dragon heat had sounded terrifying until Malachi explained it with that low voice and those gold eyes and that ridiculous self-control.
I would prepare you.
I groaned and pressed my forehead to the tile. Shut up, memory.
By the time I got dressed, I had made three decisions. One, I was not looking Malachi in the eye. Two, I was not being alone with Malachi. Three, if anyone mentioned his dick, dragon heat, or the word prepare, I was walking directly into the mountain.
Cindy was awake when I came out. She sat up slowly, hair wrapped, eyes sharp.
"No questions?"
"No questions."
She looked me up and down. "Girl."
"I said no questions."
"That was not a question. That was a diagnosis."
I pointed at her. "You are injured. Rest."
"I have a tiny cut on my head, not a coma."
"Rest emotionally."
She smiled like she knew too much. "Did Lord tall, dark, and fire hazard finally kiss you?"
I grabbed my boots. "I am leaving."
"That means yes."
"It means I have bakery business."
"In his bedroom?"
"Cindy."
"No questions," she said, lying down with both hands raised. "But if you need to talk about dragon dick later, I am available."
I walked out before my face melted off.
Avoiding Malric in his own area turned out to be harder than expected because the man owned the mountain. Every hallway had guards, every servant knew my name, every doorway looked important. I tried to take a side corridor and ended up in a room full of swords. I tried another and found Moses supervising young dragons breathing controlled flame into stone bowls.
He looked at me. I looked at him.
"Are you lost, my queen?"
"No, I'm exploring with panic."
His mouth twitched. "Lord Malric is in the east hall."
"Then I am definitely not going that way."
Moses said nothing, which was worse than judgment.
I made it to breakfast by using Melon as a shield. He did not know he was a shield, but he had a tray of sweet rolls and I stayed behind him like a coward with standards. Derek sat at the table, one arm bandaged for a scrape, eating like dragon assassins were just another Tuesday.
"You look jumpy."
"I slept badly."