Page 78 of Hoarded By the Dragon

Kalos’s laugh is soft. “Sleep, my queen.”

I hum, liking it too much when he calls me his, but frown a moment later. I don’t want to leave him wanting. Kalos strokes my cheek with a claw.

“Rest awhile. I can be satisfied later.”

I surrender to the lulling moment and the knowledge that we will have a later.

* * *

I can’t sleep.

I sigh, wide awake after passing out earlier. I enjoy the heat from Kalos spooning me and try to push the pillow under my head into a position that will make it easier for my body to relax into sleep, but it’s not working.

If I sleep, I’ll probably dream again of swirling, vibrant oranges transitioning into purples and blues. It wouldn’t bother me. Out of all the dreams I could have, that one is beautiful and makes my fingers twitch for a brush.

But no matter that Ifeeltired, don’t fear my dreams, and the baby isn’t even kicking me right now… I’m just not falling asleep.

I sigh again. A little bored and antsy.

Kalos’s hand slides up to cradle my stomach.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks in a lethargic rumble.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper.

His mouth brushes my neck, and he nuzzles the skin behind my ear.

“I can wear you out,” he says, the words are curling and suggestive and occur at the same time my stomach growls under his hand. We both freeze. My face heats in embarrassment, and his chest shakes in soft laughter.

“It would seem you have different needs to be seen to,” he says.

I sigh. “I’m sure it will be fine—” I start but am cut off by another growling sound of hunger.

Kalos tsks. “Allow me to have the pleasure of feeding the mother of my child.”

When he says things like that, how can I deny him? We put on robes and head to the kitchen quietly.

I frown as he starts pulling out pans. “I can just have a piece of fruit—”

“Nonsense. You need meat and spices.”

“You don’t have to go to the trouble—”

“Rina.” His golden gaze ensnares me. “Allow me this.”

I blink, but plant myself on one of the stools next to the counter.

“Alright then. Knock yourself out,” I say.

“Prepare to be amazed,” Kalos says, his tone serious even as his mouth curves. This playful version of Kalos is rare. My mind tries to tell me he’s this way more around me than other people, but I resist that.

It would be dangerous to start thinking of myself as special. I know where I reside in Kalos’s world. He made sure to tell me at the very beginning.

But I can enjoy this.

“What are you making?” I ask.

“Something I think will help with the hunger and… your other side effects.”

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