Page 38 of Bride of the Black Dragon
Immediately, I begin wondering what he can mean. Is his manhood actually his Drake’s manhood—or dragonhood, I guess? And if so, what does it look like? And is that why it feels so big against my belly when he presses against me? I imagine a beast that’s bigger than a cottage would have equipment on the same scale. But if that’s true, how would it ever fit into me? I felt my inner walls stretching when he just used two fingers on me.
It’s clear, however, that I won’t get answers to my many questions any time soon. Xaren has gone silent for the night and I sense that he’s done talking for now.
I’m sleepy anyway. He hasn’t planted a baby in my belly, but at least I no longer have a maiden barrier, so I don’t have to worry about getting whipped tomorrow. That should hopefully go a long way towards appeasing the Queen and buy me a little time to convince Xaren to take me.
For now, I feel content in his arms. His room is cold, as always, but his big body is warm and I feel safe pressed against him. I sigh contentedly and nuzzle my face against his warm chest.
He says nothing but strokes my hair gently with one big hand. Eventually I drift off and dream of flying on wings made of white and silver feathers.
19
ELAINA
The bathwater is lukewarm by the time I pull myself out of my tub, scrubbed clean, though no amount of rose-scented soap or perfumed oils can wash away the weight of last night.
I went back to my own rooms at first light as usual to take a bath and get some breakfast, but my time with the Dark Prince is imprinted on my heart and I can’t stop thinking about it.
The memory of Xaren’s deep voice in my ear… the heat in his eyes when he looked at me…the slow, deliberate way his fingers touched me, teaching me what pleasure felt like. Not just for duty, but because I asked him to…because he wanted to.
I dry myself slowly, wrapping the towel tight as if it can keep my insides from unraveling. My stomach flutters every time I think of last night. Tanzy has laid out a pale blue gown threaded with silver for me with little blue slippers to match. I pull the outfit on without thinking, fingers fumbling over the tiny pearl buttons because my mind is elsewhere.
Breakfast is a quiet affair. A tray of soft cheeses, buttered bread, fresh fruit, and tea waits for me on the little table near the window. I take one bite—maybe two—before I hear the knock.
Three sharp raps—precise and impatient.
My heart jumps uneasily in my chest—I know what this is about.
A servant stands in the doorway when I open it, eyes cast down as if afraid to meet mine. She curtseys low.
“Her Majesty summons you to the Queen’s private library,” she says.
Of course she does. Well, it’s not like I didn’t expect this.
I force a smile I don’t feel and nod.
“Very well. Tell her I’ll come immediately.”
The servant turns and disappears down the hall, leaving me to walk the long corridor alone. My steps echo like accusations on the marble floor.
I can’t help thinking of the last time I was in her library—the way the whip fell on Xaren’s bare back and how his blood spattered the golden carpet and pale blue wallpaper. I wish I could forget it but the memory sticks in my mind like a poisoned thorn.
My mind won’t turn itself off. What if she finds some fault with me—some pretext for a whipping? I know in my head that Xaren took care of my maiden barrier last night, but my gut doesn’t seem to know it. Already I’m regretting the two bites of buttered toast I had for breakfast.
The guards standing outside the heavy oak door don’t speak. One of them pushes it open and gestures for me to enter.
Queen Virelda is seated near the hearth, her long fingers curled around a porcelain cup of tea. She doesn’t rise…doesn’t offer me any refreshment. Which makes sense—I don’t count as a person to her. I’m just a Royal womb.
“Come closer,” she snaps, when I linger in the doorway.
I obey. My stomach is in knots.
She looks me over with cold precision, her sharp eyes missing nothing. Finally, she speaks.
“Well? Are you pregnant yet?”
The question lands like a slap. I flush, but keep my voice calm.
“I slept in your son’s arms last night,” I say quietly. “And I no longer have my maiden barrier.”
