Page 50 of Hoarded By the Dragon

KATARINA

I hum as I work.The room I’ve set up for my business is delightful. One whole wall is full of windows that give the perfect north light. I still use specific lights for color matching, but this room is a luxury I’ve never had.

A lot of things here are luxuries. My room, Maggie’s cooking, even forced cuddles with Kalos.

The dragon is a temptation I’ve never faced before, but he hasn’t tried to seduce me again.

The days start to blend together. We find our own balance, a routine that works for us. The baby is healthy and growing even quicker than Maggie anticipated. She admitted that she may have been over-cautious in her prediction and the extra contact may not be necessary, but neither Kalos nor I say anything about stopping. It’s a small price to make sure our child is healthy.

And… I like it.

I like the quiet evenings and mornings we spend together. I would have never assumed Kalos to be an expert cuddler, but he could charge for his services. Not that he would need to. The man is richer than God. To my surprise, most of his wealth comes from legitimate businesses.

Some nights when I don’t feel like sketching or reading, we talk. He tells me about all the different industries he has his claws in, and I ask all the questions about our world that I’ve never been able to get answers to before. Kalos shares information generously.

He tells me about the fae realm’s history of indentured servitude and the danger of the fae gates. That many of the paranormals that exist on our plane today can trace their ancestry back to beings that fled the fae plane, but so much time has passed that Earth is the only home many of them know. Every question I have gets answered until the topic sways to his life, then he becomes tight-lipped.

I’m curious about him, but all the information he freely gives makes up for the disappointment that he is still a mystery.

The time we spend together is nice… but it’s hard to keep from touching him. My senses awaken in response to the warmth of his scales or skin against mine, and I remember the growly way he dominated my body during his heat.

I’m always able to resist, but as the weeks pass, my body’s response to Kalos strengthens rather than dims. It’s inconvenient. It doesn’t help that he knows when I’m wet. His nostrils flare, and my heart skips a beat, wondering if this time he’ll offer to soothe the ache of my body with his.

He never does, and the lust brewing in me threatens to shatter my decision not to get involved. Temptation whispers to accept the pain of an eventual broken heart in exchange for the mind-blowing orgasms I know he’d give me.

The robes don’t help the situation.

I underestimated how much Kalos hated my robe. I didn’t like it either, but it was the only one I had until I’d walked into my closet to find ten colorful silky robes. They’re so beautiful and flow so smoothly over my skin that I couldn’t reject them. I let him spoil me while trying to convince my heart that the gesture doesn’t mean anything.

Kalos just really hated the robe I had.

But… if it was only about replacing the robe, wouldn’t he have just ordered the same as his? And these robes aren’t that. No, these robes are from all different creators with unique designs on each one. The gift feels personal.

My soul knows art when I see it, and Kalos gave it to me.

The robes are thin and heat easily on contact with him, but I love them too much not to wear them. Even if I fall asleep needy every night.

Once he leaves in the morning, I jump in the shower to try to alleviate the ache in my core, but it doesn’t leave me satisfied. My body is hungry and I’m keeping a feast from it.

It feels like it’s only a matter of time before I break.

Just like it’s only a matter of time before Kalos finds out about Griffin.

The fact that Kalos still hasn’t noticed that there’s a cat living in his house is because Griffin must be the most chill cat in the whole world. He doesn’t make a peep when I put him in the bathroom closet in the evenings, he just curls in his favorite spot to sleep.

I let him wander wherever he wants during the day, and somehow my dragon hasn’t noticed his domain has been invaded.

I huff in annoyance. Notmydragon.

A dragon. A dangerous tempting dragon whose presence I’ve grown too used to. I need to prepare myself for a future when these cuddle sessions stop. When I won’t wake every morning in his arms.

Like this morning.

The shock of waking alone doesn’t bode well for after the baby comes. Maybe I’ll be too busy to even remember his existence by then.

There’s a sound, and I pull my paintbrush away from the project I’m hunched over. I’m supposed to do retouching on the easel, but got carried away. Luckily the paint stroke isn’t botched with the interruption. I glare at the doorway before freezing.

He’s here.My stupid body sings.

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