Page 49 of Hoarded By the Dragon

Her body warmth travels through the robe, but not well. It insulates even more than her flannels do.

I sigh. “Skin to skin would be more effective.”

Her pencil stops. “I’m not getting naked with you.”

Again.The unspoken word rings with memories.

“I meant for my hand. This would be more effective if my hand was under this garment you call a robe.”

“Oh,” she says and bites her lip before answering. “I guess that would be okay.”

I slide my hand under the robe tie rather than where it gapes on her chest. The fabric of her clothing is warm. I pull up the shirt and press my palm to her middle. I don’t question the action. If she hadn’t donned the robe, I would have placed my hand on her back instead.

The zing of magic, the hungry draw of the heat energy as I feed the babe cracks my concentration. For weeks, I’ve avoided thinking about the fact that we’ve conceived a child. That despite my failures, I will have living young. It’s a bright pain that I can’t work through. At the same time, my dragon purrs in contentment.

I’ve truly divided myself from my beast to have us react to this situation so differently. This is something more than immortals developing a separate beast. This is a rebellion of a part of my soul. It is distressing to say the least.

To delay those thoughts, I focus on one thing at a time. In this moment, I send more heat to the child and try to find a distraction. The pain will eventually fade.

Rina hums while she sketches. Flowers that bear a similarity to those in the garden come to life on the page. Each stroke of her pencil adds to the structure of the image and almost hypnotically soothes the divide in my heart.

I’ve seen the great masters’ work and hung art pieces in my own gallery, but never has that inspired the same sort of contentment as whatever magic she’s spinning over me in this moment. Contentment and hunger.

My talons drag against her bare skin, and she freezes.

“Do you hate my presence so much, Rina?” The question slips out before I can catch it.

She doesn’t. Her scent and the way she softens when our bodies press together as if I give her peace tells me that. Yearning blooms in me with her presence. My cocks harden against her warm body, even with her ugly robe.

I want a diversion from the being growing under my hand. I want to rip off the thin robe she wears and press my face into her belly before trailing my tongue lower to lick up her sweet scent from the source. I clench my jaw against the urge.

“Kalos…” She looks away, and I bring my hand from her stomach to her chin, directing her gaze back to mine. There’s an echo of the yearning I feel. A desire I want to feed.

“As you said before, we’re physically compatible.” And I’d rejected her. The weeks have worn down my resolve there. It’s possible to give both our bodies what they want without delving deeper. We’ve done it before.

“I can’t,” she says.

I let her look away and have the privacy for her emotions. There’s no telling what I’d promise if the pain in her gaze had gotten its hooks into me. Beyond all expectation, I like this little thief.

Her determination and passion. The way she’s never allowed herself to be afraid of me even when I threatened to eat her.

“I know that other people can separate sex from other feelings, but I don’t think I can,” she whispers. The words circle us before sinking in.

No, I don’t suppose she can. She’d tried to come off as worldly the night of my heat, but Katarina has been searching for love and acceptance since she was young. The desire on her face isn’t just for physical touch.

What I’m doing is cruel.

This is why I’ve avoided her.

“I understand,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t say for what. It’s hard to articulate it myself. I’m sorry for hurting her before with my careless words, for the future hurts I’ll cause, and for the pain that can’t be resolved in my soul that will hurt both of us in the end.

I can’t let myself keep her. I’m unable to bond with anyone, let alone have a mate again.

And in her presence, I acknowledge I want to.

18

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