Page 72 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
“I’ve never seen you in anything other than fighting leathers,” I tease, letting my eyes roam over his body, slowly taking in every inch of him. He’s as tall as Abraxis, easily over six feet, maybe even six-six. His shoulders are broad and defined, his arms strong and muscular, every movement revealing the power beneath his skin. His fingers snap in front of my face, startling me, and I blink, looking up at him with a mix of admiration and desire.
“Let’s go for our walk. Your dragon is showing, and I think the cool night air may help some.” Balor offers me his bare hand, the warmth of his touch sending a flush through me. I stare at it for several seconds, marveling at the contrast between his strong, calloused palm and my delicate fingers, before finally taking it. The connection feels right, grounding me amidst the swirling emotions. “We’ll be back,” Balor calls over his shoulder as we step out into the halls of Malivore.
We walk in comfortable silence, the soft echo of our footsteps mingling with the distant hum of the academy. The air is cool against my skin, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves outside the window. “Where do you want to go?” I tilt my head, looking up at him, the soft glow of the lights casting shadows on his face.
“There’s someplace I want to take you. I’m going to shift and take you there.” He points between his neck and shoulder, his fingers tracing a path as if drawing the location in the air. “When I shift, there should be a dished scale right about here. That’s where you sit. Hold on to the spikes in front of you.” A huffed-out laugh escapes his lips, warm and genuine, as we move further from the building. “You’re the only person who’s been allowed to ride my basilisk.” He rubs the back of his neck, his free hand stopping me from moving too quickly. His body shifts, muscles, and bones rearranging seamlessly. I watch in awe as the man I know transforms into an enormous basilisk, the scales shimmering under the night sky, their colors like spilled oil.
The transformation is both terrifying and beautiful, the hiss of his shifting body blending with the sounds of the night. The ground beneath us feels solid, the coolness of the stone path ways replaced by the earthy scent of the outside world. As the basilisk stands before me, powerful and majestic, I feel a mix of fear and exhilaration, the night air filled with the promise of the unknown.
He lays flat to the ground, his scaled body shimmering in the moonlight. I stand beside him, the cool night air brushing against my skin, and search for that space he mentioned. When I find it—a dip between the ridges along his massive, sinewy form—I climb into place. The rough texture of his scales bites faintly against my palms as I adjust myself, resting my feet on spines that jut out like the jagged edges of a cliff.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I call out, my voice steady as I grip the spikes before me. They’re warm, pulsing faintly beneath my touch, a reminder of the powerful creature beneath me.
Balor raises his basilisk’s head, his gleaming red eyes catching the faint shimmer of the Dragon Star above. Without hesitation, he slithers. The rhythmic sway of his movement reverberates through me, a strange, lulling sensation that contrasts with the ominous whisper of the wind. When we reach the edge of the Sea of Whispers, I take a sharp breath. The air here feels alive, tinged with the faint scent of salt and something metallic, almost like blood.
He slips into the inky water, and I feel a momentary jolt of surprise as his massive body remains buoyant. The water laps at his sides, glinting faintly in the starlight as he pushes toward a small, shadowed island offshore. The soft sound of his body slicing through the water is hypnotic, broken only by the distant call of some unseen night creature. When we reach the island, he slithers onto the damp, uneven ground and lays flat again. I take it as my cue to slide off, the mossy earth cool and springy beneath my boots.
I linger, looking up at the sky. The Dragon Star blazes bright, a silvery beacon against the velvety black. Beside it, the Waxing Crescent moon climbs steadily higher, casting faint, ghostly light over the landscape. My stomach knots.Time is running out; everything could begin any day now.
“I have something I want to show you. Close your eyes,” Balor whispers, his voice low and rough, like stones grinding together.
I laugh softly, the sound almost swallowed by the vastness of the night. “Is it something personal and naughty?” I tease, my gaze flicking to the prominent bulge in his jeans.
He rolls his eyes, a rare glimmer of amusement softening his features. “He has a mind of his own,” he replies, smirking. “No, it’s something else—something we can only see once a year. And tonight is the night.”
Balor offers me his hands, and I take them, his skin rough but warm. Trusting him, I close my eyes. He leads me slowly across uneven terrain, the ground beneath us shifting from packed earth to something softer, almost spongy. The faint scent of moss and damp earth fills my nose as he guides me forward.
“Okay,” he says softly, his breath warm against my ear. “Open your eyes.”
When I do, I’m struck silent. A small field of Veoriti flowers stretches before us, their ghostly white petals glowing faintly in the moonlight. The gentle breeze carries their subtle, honeyed fragrance, making the air feel thick and sweet. Dozens of blossoms sway in unison, their movements eerily rhythmic, as though they’re breathing. I drop to my knees near the closest grouping, my fingers trembling as I reach out to caress a delicate bloom. The petals are impossibly soft, like silk against my skin.
“I’ve only ever seen these in books,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. The moment feels sacred, almost fragile.
Balor crouches beside me, his expression uncharacteristically tender as he hands me several collection bags. “I noticed the apothecary book open on the kitchen table, the page marked with this flower. These have always grown on the outer islands—places students can’t reach unless they can fly or have scales strong enough to fend off predators.” He plucks three pods with practiced ease, dropping them into a bag.
“Seeds?” I ask, glancing at him.
He nods. “Thoughtful, aren’t I?”
A genuine smile pulls at my lips as I gently pluck a few petals, placing them carefully into one of the bags. “You are. Thank you.”
Balor’s gaze darkens, his voice dipping into a near growl. “I meant what I said long ago: I’d do anything to see my mate smile.” He reaches out, his rough fingers cupping my cheek with surprising gentleness. The heat of his touch sears me, making my heart stutter.
I place the collection bag aside, leaning into his hand as he draws me closer. When our lips meet, the world falls away. His kiss is patient but fervent, and it feels as though I’m finally able to breathe again. The tension I’ve carried dissolves, replaced by the magnetic pull of him. His fingers thread into my hair, anchoring me to him as the kiss deepens.
He leans back, pulling me with him, and I feel the soft moss yield beneath our weight. My forearms brace on either side of his head, my body aligning with his as our kisses grow hungrier. His hands slide down, skimming over my curves before settling at my hips. With a firm but careful motion, he pushes me back, guiding me down over his hardened length.
I gasp, the sensation overwhelming, his size and heat unlike anything I’ve experienced before. He’s thicker than my other mates—thicker even than Leander. Balor’s smirk glints in the moonlight as he whispers over my lips, “We’ll take our time.”
Gently, he rolls me onto my back, his weight a comforting pressure. His kisses trail lower, his breath hot against my skin as he peels my shirt up, exposing my stomach to the cool night air. When his fingers hook the edge of my leggings, I lift my hips, letting him slide them and my underwear down in one smooth motion.
A low, rumbling hiss escapes his lips as his serpentine tongue flicks out, tasting the air. Before I can catch my breath, he lowers his head, his mouth devouring me with feral intensity. That forked tongue plunges deep, vibrating with each exhalation, the sensation unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My hands tangle in the moss beneath me, grounding me as I’m consumed by him. I come undone in record time from the feeling. His tongue writhes within me, prolonging the pleasure as I hear him fighting with his belt.
CHAPTER 45
Mina
Balor pullshis tongue out of me and rocks back on his heels, his lips glistening in the dim light. My skin tingles where his mouth had been, the lingering heat of his touch sending shivers down my spine. I rip my tank top over my head, the fabric rasping against my skin, and look back at him.
