Page 100 of Taken

“Protection,” I say without hesitation. “From the Syndicate. From anyone who would use you.”

Her mouth curves slightly. “And what does Aurora want to use me for?”

The question catches me off guard, truth forcing its way past careful evasions.

“Nothing,” I admit. “Viktor has his agenda: the Shard, the Heartstone, the shift in power dynamics. But me? I just wanted you out. Safe.”

Color rises in her cheeks. “Why?”

The dragon stirs beneath my skin, responding to her nearness, her scent, the pulse of power that surrounds her even in weakness. I should lie. Should maintain professional distance. Should remember my role as Aurora operative, not… whatever this is becoming.

“I don’t know,” I say instead, honesty rough in my chest. “But I couldn’t leave you there. Couldn’t let them hurt you anymore.”

Her fingers tighten around mine, eyes never leaving my face. The air between us charges with tension that has nothing to do with the Shard’s distant presence.

“Talon,” she whispers, and my name in her mouth sounds like permission. Like invitation.

I lean forward, drawn by forces I can’t fight anymore. Her free hand rises to my face, fingertips tracing the line of my jaw. The touch sparks a tingle down my spine, dragon instincts surging. My eyes close briefly, savoring the contact, the connection.

When I open them again, Lila has shifted forward, closing the distance between us. Her lips meet mine, tentative at first, then with growing confidence as I respond. The kiss deepens, her isolation burning away in the heat between us. Her mouth is soft, eager, tasting faintly of the mint tea Zoe brought earlier.

I pull back slightly, fighting for control as the dragon pushes dangerously close to the surface.

“We should slow down,” I murmur against her lips. “You’re still recovering.”

“I don’t want to slow down,” she breathes, reaching for the buttons of my shirt. “I’ve been locked away, Talon. Treated like a thing, not a person. I want to feel alive. I want to feel everything.”

Her fingers work at my buttons, impatient, tugging the fabric apart with surprising strength for someone so recently weakened. I let her, watching her face as she reveals my chest inch by inch. Her breath catches as she pushes the shirt from my shoulders, eyes darkening to liquid mercury at the sight of me.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, hands exploring the contours of muscle, the planes of my chest, the curve where neck meets shoulder. Her touch trails fire across my skin, awakening nerve endings I’d forgotten existed.

She leans forward, lips pressing against my collarbone, tongue tasting salt and skin. I groan, control slipping further as herteeth graze sensitive flesh. Her hands find my belt, fumbling with the buckle, eager enough that her fingers tremble.

“Let me,” I say, covering her hands with mine. “No rush.”

“Yes, rush,” she counters, eyes meeting mine with unmasked hunger. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Her words tear at something inside me, releasing hunger I’ve kept carefully leashed. My hands slide into her hair, cradling her head as I kiss her again. Deeper now, raw with need too long denied. She makes a small sound in her throat—pleasure, surprise, want—that inflames me further.

I reach for the loose shirt she’s been wearing since she got here, unbuttoning it with more patience than she showed mine. Each inch of revealed skin captivates me—pale against the white sheets, bearing subtle scars from years of torture. Her collarbone, delicate and sharp. The gentle slope of her breasts. The tiny beauty mark at the base of her throat.

“Lovely,” I breathe, pushing the fabric from her shoulders. Her breasts are small, perfect, nipples hardening in the cool air and under my hungry gaze. I cover one with my palm, reveling in her sharp intake of breath, the way her back arches into the touch.

My mouth replaces my hand, tongue circling, tasting, drawing a moan from deep in her throat. Salt and sweetness, the subtle flavor of her skin intoxicating to dragon senses heightened by desire. I trace the curve beneath her breast with my tongue, learning the geography of her body, mapping places that make her breath catch, that draw those small, perfect sounds from her throat.

“More,” she demands, fingers tangling in my hair, her other hand moving to the waistband of my jeans. “I need to see all of you.”

I stand, letting her unfasten my jeans, helping her push them down my legs along with my boxers. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of my cock, hard and ready for her. She reaches for itwithout hesitation, fingers wrapping around its length, drawing a rough sound from my throat.

“My turn,” I say, breathless at her touch. I help her out of the loose drawstring pants she wears, revealing long legs, the curve of her hips, the dark curls between her thighs. My dragon roars approval at the sight of her fully revealed, nothing left to imagination or shadow.

I kneel beside the bed, hands sliding up her calves, her thighs, feeling muscle and bone beneath soft skin. Her legs part for me, invitation and demand in the movement. I trace the inside of her thigh with my tongue, tasting her, breathing in her scent, my dragon senses overwhelmed with her desire, her readiness.

My fingers find her wet, ready, the seam of her pussy parting easily. She gasps as I explore, learning what makes her hips buck, what draws more of those sounds I’m quickly becoming addicted to. I circle her clit with my thumb, her body responding with a shiver that runs through her entire frame.

“It’s been so long,” she whispers, voice breaking as pleasure builds. “Oh, God! Oh… God! Talon, I don’t… I can’t…” She grasps my shoulder, grip almost painful.

“Come for me, Lila,” I urge, mouth replacing fingers, tongue tasting her deeply. “Let yourself feel.”

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