Page 2 of Realms of Swords and Storms
He leaned closer, his face only an inch from mine. “Feel. Mate.”
I stared at him, unable to look away, unable to break the connection between us. The heat of his hand against my chest seemed to spread through my entire body, awakening sensations I'd tried to ignore since the first time I'd touched Sirrax's scales. That same electric awareness, that same sense of belonging, and now the heat that seemed to rise inside me as he leaned closer.
"Always wanted you. Couldn't show. Couldn't speak."
The air seemed to thicken between us, charged with something primal and undeniable. His lips were so close to mine I could feel his breath, hot and sweet against my skin. A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the night air.
"This is madness," I whispered, yet I didn't pull away. "We can't—"
"Can," he growled, his hand sliding from my heart to my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies pressed together. The heat of him seared through my clothing, and I gasped at the contact. "Want to. Need to."
His mouth captured mine, and any protest I might have made dissolved into the kiss. It wasn't gentle or hesitant—it was hungry, demanding, as wild and untamed as he'd been in dragon form. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming me with a possessiveness that should have frightened me but instead ignited something deep within.
I moaned against his lips, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the play of muscles beneath that strange, midnight skin. He tasted of fire and starlight, of freedom and danger. When we finally broke apart, both gasping for air, his eyes had grown even more luminous, glowing like twin suns in the darkness.
"Mine," he growled, the word vibrating through me like a physical touch. His hands moved down my sides and he glanced down between us.
"Too many coverings," he growled.
"Wait," I said, catching his wrists. "We can't—not here, not now. Someone might come looking for us."
His eyes flashed with irritation. "No one comes. Chose this place. Safe."
"You planned this?" I asked, surprised.
"Waited. For you to see. For you to free me." His expression softened slightly. "For you to be ready."
The implications were staggering. He had been conscious, aware, intelligent all along—trapped in dragon form, watching, waiting for me to understand. I should have pulled away. I should have reminded myself of all the reasons this was wrong—he wasn't human, I barely knew him in this form, we were in danger, exposed in open countryside. But when his lips found mine again, fiercer this time, I surrendered to the heat building between us.
The sound of tearing fabric had my eyes flying open, and the feel of cool night air on my skin, as he tore through my riding clothes as if they were parchment.
“Sirrax!” I gasped.
"Clothes," he growled, voice rumbling from deep in his chest. "In the way."
My protests died on my lips as his mouth found my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. He tore the rest of my clothing away, casting the shred of fabric to the ground beside us. I should have been scandalized, should have protested the destruction of my only clothing. Instead, I found myself arching into his touch as his hands explored newly exposed skin, leaving trails of fire wherever they passed.
His hands, rough and calloused, explored my newly exposed flesh with a reverence that made me shiver. Every touch ignited sparks beneath my skin, a sensation both foreign and achingly familiar.
I gasped as his thumbs brushed over my nipples, sending sparks of pleasure racing through me. The contrast of his midnight skin against mine was mesmerizing—like watching shadows dance across moonlight.
"We shouldn't," I whispered, even as my body arched into his touch. "I barely know who you are like this."
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his expression fierce with determination and something else—vulnerability, perhaps.
"Same," he insisted, pressing his forehead to mine. "Still Sirrax. Still yours."
I should have been afraid. I should have pulled away, demanded explanations, time to think. But as his mouth descended to my breast, hot and demanding, thought became impossible. I tangled my fingers in his white hair, holding him to me as his tongue circled my nipple, sending electric jolts of pleasure straight to my core.
His teeth grazed my sensitive flesh, and I cried out, the sound echoing in the clearing. I felt him smile against my skin, pleased with my response.
"Want you," he growled, his voice vibrating against my flesh. "Need you."
His hands slid down my body, exploring every curve, every hollow with a possessive hunger that should have frightened me but instead stoked the fire building between my thighs. When his fingers found the wetness there, I gasped, my hips bucking against his hand.
"So ready," he murmured, golden eyes glowing as they met mine. "For mate."
I couldn't deny it. My body responded to him with an intensity that defied explanation, as though it recognized him even in this new form. His fingers slid inside me, and I moaned, my head falling back as pleasure coursed through me.
