Page 42 of Burned Alive to Be His
“Mine,” he snarls, his thrusts deep, powerful, aimed at the very core of my being. “You are mine, Judith. My heart. My fire. My mate.”
“Yours,” I sob, the pleasure so intense it is almost a pain. “Always. Take me, Xvitar. Make me yours.”
I feel my climax building, a tidal wave of sensation that is pulling me under. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, if that is even possible. “I’m so close,” I gasp.
“Come with me,” he roars, and his body goes rigid, his own release imminent.
We shatter together, a cataclysm of pleasure and release that seems to shake the very foundations of the mountain. My scream is his name, his roar is mine. We are two halves of a whole, two fires merged into one, and in the blinding, white-hot light of our shared climax, I know that I’m no longer just Judith, the human slave.
I am Judith, the dragon’s mate.
21
XVITAR
Iwake to a world remade.
The first thing I am aware of is her. The scent of her, a soft, warm, earthy fragrance that has woven itself into the furs of my sleeping ledge, into the very air of my cavern. The weight of her, a small, trusting presence curled against my side, her head resting in the hollow of my shoulder. The feeling of her skin, impossibly soft, against my own scaled hide.
Judith.
The pain in my body is a dull, distant thunder, a reminder of the storm I have weathered. But the rage, the restless, corrosive fire that has been my constant companion for my entire life, is gone. In its place is a strange, profound calm. A stillness. It is the quiet that follows a volcanic eruption, when the ash has settled and the very air feels new, fragile, and clean.
I lie there for a long moment, unmoving, my good arm wrapped around her, holding her to me. My heart, a thing of fire and stone I thought incapable of such a feeling, gives a hard, steady beat against my ribs. I have spent my life hoarding treasures, cold, dead, beautiful things. And I did not realize until now that my cavern, my life, has been empty.
She is my hoard now. My only treasure.
The memory of our joining, of her body shattering around mine, of her voice crying out my name, is a brand on my soul. It was not a taking. It was a finding. I did not break her. She remade me.
She stirs in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and snuggles closer, her hand placed on my chest, directly over my heart. The simple, unconscious gesture is a blow more powerful than any Grakar landed. It is a claim. An acceptance.
A movement at the entrance to the cavern draws my attention. It is Vorlag. The Eldest Dragon stands there, his ancient eyes taking in the scene. He looks at me, at the woman sleeping in my arms, and a slow, unreadable expression crosses his face.
“The clan is gathered,” he says, voice vibrating through the cavern. “There is more to be said. More to be understood.”
Judith stirs at the sound of his voice, her eyes fluttering open. She is instantly awake, instantly alert, the instincts of a lifetime of survival etched deep into her very being. She sees Vorlag, and her body tenses, her hand instinctively going to where her knife would be. Then she seems to remember where she is, who she is with, and the tension eases, but a guarded watchfulness remains.
“It is all right,” I say, my voice sounding raspy. She looks up, and her trust in my words is a sharp, painful, and exquisitely beautiful thing.
“Bring her,” Vorlag commands, and turns, leaving us in the charged silence.
I nod, pushing myself into a sitting position, my body a chorus of protesting aches. Judith moves with me, sitting up, the furs pooling around her waist, her pale shoulders and the map of scars on her back bared to the dim, magical light. She makes no move to cover herself. The shame, the fear… it is gone.
“I can stand,” I grunt, though the world is a dizzying, grey haze for a moment as I swing my legs over the side of the ledge.
“I know,” she says softly, her hand resting on my good shoulder, a small, steadying pressure. “But you do not have to stand alone.”
I stare at her, at the fierce, unwavering loyalty in her dark eyes, and I feel that strange, terrifying lurch in my chest again. I give a curt nod, and together, we dress in the silence, our movements a new, unspoken dance of partnership. When we are ready, we walk out into the light.
The entire clan is assembled in the clearing before the Great Cavern. They are silent, their faces a mixture of awe, uncertainty, and a new, fragile hope. They part for us as we approach, their eyes on Judith, on the way she walks at my side, not as a captive, but as a partner.
Vorlag stands before them, a figure of ancient authority. Grakar is gone, already taken to the sea cliffs and cast out, his name to be struck from our histories. His followers stand at the back of the crowd, their heads bowed in shame.
“Yesterday, we were a people on the brink of extinction,” Vorlag begins, his voice echoing in the still air. “We were divided. We were losing hope. Today, we are reborn.”
He raises a hand and gestures toward the smoking peak of Bloodstorm. “The prophecy has been fulfilled. The human, Judith, has passed the trials. She has faced the fire of our Mother, and she has emerged not as a victim, but as a master. She has calmed the mountain’s heart. She has opened the way.”
He turns his gaze to us, to me and Judith. “But the prophecy is not yet complete. The path is open, but we must still walk it. The eggs, the future of our race, still sleep.”
