Page 40 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince

Preparing the stew grounds me. Clean the bird. Make the stock. Even the self-heating pot has become familiar. How quickly I’ve adapted to this different life—I’m more versatile than I think.

By the time sunset approaches, the stew is softly simmering. Drakon took the speaking stone with him, and it’s strange, knowing that the day ends without touching base with Kaliyah.I hope she’s all right.I can’t imagine losing her too, another loss to this damn curse.

With my feet dangling over the ledge, I watch the sky, gold turning to purple. The fading light soothes me, a reminder that death is inevitable in life.

It’s a terribly beautiful evening, and I can’t help but hope—finding it in sunrises, in birth. I’m upon a land that has become infertile, in a body that is barren, but today, I saw my nieces, a pregnant belly. Maybe I was disallowed the position of motherhood, but in sunset’s glow, I find rhythm in my womb.

I still generate life. There is hope. Even when I can’t see it, can’t feel it, I create new reasons to hope.

Even when Drakon is…

Drakon is…dead.

A shadow blocks the sun. Large and ominous, the details impossible to make out. I lift my hand to shade my eyes and squint.

It’s one of the dragon fae.

Someone must have found me!

I jump to action, summoning my wings and bracing myself for the confrontation that is to come. Even if it’s Scorpia, I resolve to stand my ground. There is work I need to finish.

Only…It’s Drakon.

He flies to me, relief softening his face. I fly to meet him, pulling him into a desperate embrace, weeping into his shoulder. I shake my head, rubbing my wet cheeks against his chest.

“You’re alive. I thought… I thought…”

Drakon nuzzles my braids, his fingertips whispering over my body, confirming I’m there. Likewise, the scent of balsam and char settles me. This is not a dream.

We speak simultaneously. “I thought I lost you—”

“Scorpia lied,” I say. “She said you were dead.”

“Your flames stunned me, and when I woke, Scorpia said the rite went poorly. That Wisp scared you away. She told me you flew home.”

“I did fly home,” I confess sheepishly. “I saw my family holding my funeral and came back.”

“You saw your own funeral?” he whispers, shocked.

“Yes, and I’m… ready to let them go.” I lift my chin and meet his gaze, and he holds it like I’m the most valuable person in his life. Easing into the sensation, I loosen the internal knots telling me I don’t deserve to be treated this way. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Nor I you.”

I’m breathless. We could curse at Scorpia and her manipulations to drive us apart, but the words are a waste of breath. Instead, my gaze flicks across his face, taking him in with relief.

We survived—we found each other.

“But why did you return?” he asks. “You could have flown anywhere. You didn’t have to return to our broken clan.”

“I wasn’t ready to leave.”

There’s much more I need to explain, much I want to ask. Except, as I’m blanketed by the heat of his body, words are too slow to express my needs.

We’re nose to nose, breaths hitching. With a beat of my wings, I close the distance, pressing a peck upon his lips.

He replies with an insistence entirely his own, requiring more from me, pushing my mouth open to devour me. His demands fuel my needs, and I reply, nibbling at his lip. Our kisses consume us.

I thought he was dead, and now I burn for life. After days of boundaries, of comfort and cuddling, we’ve unleashed our fire.

---