Page 15 of The Flame King's Queen

The crone has both her hands buried in her sleeves as she scolds me. “Ma’len, if you fall, you will rebreak your delicately mended ribs, and all my priestesses will have to put you back together. They already have so much work to do helping the rescued villagers.”

I have one arm slung around Fiala’s shoulders and the other around Dusan’s. Black spots swarm before my eyes, and my pulse pounds in my ears. For a moment I can’t see or hear, and cold sweat breaks out across my flesh as I gasp, “What are you talking about? I’ve never been better.”

“We’ve got you,Ma’len,” Fiala says doggedly. The woman is only slightly taller than Isavelle, but she’s strong, and her brow is furrowed with determination. “You won’t fall.”

“Then let’s go.”

The Temple Crone mutters something about the obstinate pride of dragons, but I’m concentrating too much on putting one foot in front of the other to answer her.

Isavelle leads the way along the corridors, and I keep my gaze fixed on her long, loose hair. My reward for this painful, sweaty ordeal is to spend the night in my own bed with my Omega, and it’s not a prize I am willing to forsake.

I’m shaking and dripping with sweat by the time we reach our room, and the bodyguards lower me carefully onto the mattress. Isavelle blots the sweat from my brow and chest, and then they all ease me down onto the mattress. A simple walk from the temple to here, and I feel like I could sleep for a week.

“You see? I’m perfectly well. But thank you for your assistance, Wingrunners Fiala and Dusan.”

“You are welcome,Ma’len. Send for us at any time, Lady Isavelle. We will not leave the castle grounds.”

Once we’re alone, I feel Isavelle get into bed beside me and curl into my uninjured side, resting her cheek against my shoulder. When I put my arm around her, I get a handful of her naked bottom. She’s taken all her clothes off, and my knot twitches.

“Oh, you feel glorious. Maybe we could…”

Isavelle laughs softly. “How many broken bones do you have?”

“There are no broken bones in my cock.”

“That is true.” Isavelle kisses softly across my shoulder. “If you promise to lay still, perhaps I could…” She undoes my robe and the fabric slithers away from my hardening cock. Gently, her fingers drift up and down my shaft.

“Please don’t stop,” I groan. “I have fought and bled for my Omega. Now I wish to spill seed for her as well.”

Isavelle’s heavy breasts slide down my chest as she settles herself between my thighs, and she takes my cock in her hands and squeezes my knot.

“As long as you promise to lie still,” she whispers, and encloses the head of my cock in her mouth.

I groan a promise as the most delicious feeling sweeps over me. Warmth spreads through my belly along with an ache in my knot. My body is exhausted, but my cock has no such affliction because I am soon panting and breathing hard. Out of instinct, I bunch the muscles in my ass and attempt to thrust up into her mouth. Pain blazes across my chest, and I gasp.

Isavelle pulls her mouth off my cock with a pop and admonishes, “Zabriel.”

“I know. Gods, that hurt. I’ll keep still.”

She licks across my knot and stars burst behind my eyes. “If you’re sure that it won’t pain you.”

“It will only pain me if you cease. Please don’t stop.” After a little more coaxing, she once again takes me in her mouth. It’s unlike me to lie passively through anything, but now I don’t have a choice. I cup her head in my hand and feel the silky texture of her hair as she works her mouth up and down my length. I can’t even raise my head to look at her. My climax bunches all the muscles in my lower belly and my chest aches briefly, but most of what I feel is blessed release.

Isavelle sits up and swallows and wipes the corners of her mouth, a smile on her red, wet lips. “The king is in full working order after his ordeal.”

“I should hope so,” I mutter, gasping for breath and hoping I don’t look as pathetic as a dying fish on a wooden dock, which is how I feel.

As Isavelle lays down and lifts her thigh over mine to hold me close, I feel her slick. I reach for her. “I am neglecting my mate.”

She takes my hand in hers and curls it against her chest. “Rest, Zabriel. I want for nothing except my skin against yours.”

I turn my head and take a deep inhale of her scent. “Gods, you smell perfect. As sweet and lush as a summer’s day.”

“Your scent is so strong and comforting.” My mate strokes my chest thoughtfully. “It feels like weeks since I opened those portals into the ethereal realm, but it has only been a matter of days.”

“Days filled with worry and treachery,” I murmur. I privately curse Leibel, Elysant, and Godric. Two attempts they made on my bride, first during her first heat and then again this week. During the first attempt, some of the traitors remained hidden. Is it too optimistic to hope that the second attempt brought them all into the light? I hope that there are no more within my castle walls who want my mate dead. I wish to focus on defeating Emmeric rather than be hounded by people I thought I could trust.

“When did you realize I’m pregnant?” she asks.

---