Page 126 of Taken

His eyes flare at the compliment, pupils contracting to vertical slits as the dragon peers through. “You’re not afraid?”

“No.” And it’s true. This transformation doesn’t frighten me. It fascinates. “Show me. All of you.”

The scales spread beneath my touch, his body responding to the invitation. They appear like molten gold beneath his skin, not overtaking his human form but enhancing it; a hybrid beauty of man and beast. His eyes glow, dragon-bright in the dawn light.

“I can feel you,” he says, voice rougher, deeper, dragon resonating through human vocal cords. “Your power. Your fire.”

The Shard pulses against my chest, responding to the rising heat between us. I reach for the chain, pulling it over my head. The crystal gleams in my palm, its energy surging as I place it on the bedside table.

“I want this to be just us,” I tell him. “No magic. No Shard. Just Lila. Just Talon.”

His expression softens with understanding. After a lifetime of being valued only for the power I channeled, being wanted just for myself is its own magic.

He reaches for the hem of my shirt, and I lift my arms as he pulls it over my head. Cool air kisses my skin, raising goosebumps that he chases away with his palms. I wore nothing beneath—there had been no time for such considerations when we left the Outpost in such a rush.

His gaze travels over me with a tenderness that makes me tremble. No one has looked at me like this—like I’m precious simply for existing.

“Like what you see, dragon?” I ask, surprising myself with the playfulness in my voice.

“More than you know.” His hands span my waist, thumbs tracing the curve of my ribs. “I’ve dreamed of this. Of you. Since the moment I saw you.”

“Even in that place? When I was barely human?”

“Especially then.” His touch moves higher, skimming the undersides of my breasts. “When I saw your strength. Your defiance. Your refusal to be broken.”

I lean down, claiming his mouth again as his hands cup my breasts. Heat pools low in my belly, a liquid want I’ve never felt with such intensity. His thumbs brush over my nipples, drawing a gasp from my lips that he swallows hungrily.

The years melt away beneath his touch. I become new again—not the damaged witch, but simply a woman discovering desire with a man who sees past her scars.

My hips rock against his, feeling his cock harden beneath me. The friction sends sparks up my spine, pleasure building with each subtle movement. His hands leave my breasts, trailing fire down my sides to grip my hips, guiding the rhythm of our bodies.

“I want to feel you,” I mutter against his mouth, tugging at the waistband of his pants—borrowed silk sleep pants.

Whose room are we in?

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except this hunger, this connection burning between us.

He lifts his hips, helping me drag the fabric down his legs. The movement reveals him fully, his cock hard and ready, framed by a scattering of golden scales that glitter in the early light. I take his shaft in my palm, feeling heat and hardness and the subtle texture of scales against my skin.

His breath hitches, eyes flaring brighter with dragon fire.

“Lila,” he groans, the word breaking on his lips. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“After all the trouble we went through to save you?” I smile against his mouth. “Seems counterproductive.”

His laugh transforms into a groan as I stroke him, learning the length and weight of him in my hand. His hips rise to meet my touch, scales shimmering across his skin with each movement.

“Now you,” he commands, tugging at my remaining clothes with restless hands. I rise to my knees, letting him help me outof my pants and underwear until nothing separates us—skin to skin, heat to heat.

I take control again, settling my knees on either side of his hips. His hands explore my body with awe and hunger, tracing scars from my ordeal without question or pity. Each touch rewrites those marks—no longer evidence of pain, but simply part of the map that led me here, to this moment, to him.

“I need you,” I whisper, positioning myself above him, the head of his cock against my slick slit. “Now.”

Our eyes lock as I sink onto him, taking him inside me slowly… deliciously slowly. The sensation is overwhelming—fullness and heat and connection deeper than physical. His hands grip me tighter, guiding but not controlling as I set the pace.

“Yes,” he hisses, scales rippling across his chest and arms. “God, Lila.”

I move slowly at first, savoring the feel of him, the stretch and slide that sends pleasure spiraling through every nerve. His hands roam my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples, sending jolts of sensation straight to my core.

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