Page 13 of Dragons' Future

“But I hurt you too," I breathe.

He shakes his head, his eyes wild and unfocused. He can't keep control of everything right now no matter how badly he wants to. And that’s exactly how I need him just now.

"You can be hurt, Tavias. You have been hurt. And out there in the snow, it was done at my hand.” I resume pumping up and down, slamming hard each time. I am so wet and the steam so slippery that a small squishing sound escapes each time my thighs come back down on his. I bare my teeth. "We have the power to hurt each other now. And the power to heal too. And to accept healing.”

Tavias arches into me. His cock is pulsing so hard that I know his own release is on the verge of eruption. Magic flows through the bond between us, washing through my body and waking the power inside me that I cannot capture alone. I feel my magic now, rousing to tangle with its mate.

A choking note claws from Tavias’s throat, his fevered purple eyes glistening with anguish and need. “I… I don’t want Cyril’s crown, Kitterny,” he gasps. “I don’t want to be king. I am-”

“Enough,” I tell him, my fingers tightening on his jaw. “You are enough as you are too, Tavias. For me, and for the pack and for Massa'eve."

The gratitude that rolls over his face, and through our bond, makes my soul turn and I am grateful for the steam that hides the tears falling down my face.

We are both enough. Tavias says into my thoughts and pumps his hips. This time, I do nothing to stop him. I ride, ride, ride the dragon prince, the general of Massa'eve’s armies, my mate, whose muscular thighs are trembling beneath my own. Within seconds, the waves of pure pleasure ripping through become too overwhelming for words. Tavias roars out my name and throws his head back, his naked body lurching beneath me as he spills his seed within me, his hips jerking with the force of his climax. I scream as the same release sweeps over me as well, my sex clenching down hard on his pulsing cock. Shock waves of ecstasy ripple through me, again and again, pounding me with such mercilessly intensity that I don't think my human body would have survived the assault.

When it’s over, I’m left gasping on top of him, completely and utterly spent. Tavias’s arms are wrapped tightly around me, and his heart hammers loudly through the wall of his chest. For some reason my eyes are wet, and it takes me a few minutes to realize that tears still roll down my cheeks. Tavias wipes them away with a calloused thumb, a gentle smile touching his lips.

“With the bond… Do you think the others felt what we did?” I ask.

“Yes,” a voice that does not belong to Tavias announces, as Quinton pulls down my hanging cloak and tosses it at us with a glower.

CHAPTER 9

Autumn

This is one for the ages, Autumn thought as she fingered Quinton’s ciphered note one final time before summoning a spark of fire to burn it to ash. Quinton was asking for help. She’d not have believed it if not for the cypher. Quinton was as stubborn and secretive as Coal, Autumn’s brother-in-law, and she would have sooner wagered on the sun dimming than Quinton not only calling for aid, but being desperate enough to risk exposing both of them. Actually, if it was just the sun at stake, Autumn doubted Quinton would have gone as far as he had. But it was more than the sun. It was his mate on the line.

Autumn understood. Which is how she found herself at the Massa’eve palace being ushered past a pair of guards into Ettienne’s office.

“Your majesty." Autumn curtsied, the translucent chiffon sleeves billowing slightly around her wrists. Her dress had enough embroidery to be regal, but today movement was as important as appearance.

"Your Highness." The king of Massa’eve stood smoothly from behind his mahogany desk and inclined his head with the courtesy and precision of a trained politician. "How can I be of service?"

Despite the clear amount of work piled atop Ettienne’s desk, he made a good pretense that there was nothing he'd rather be doing than entertaining the Lunos ambassador.

Tall and broad shouldered, Ettienne was a good looking male—if one had a taste for males in general—with a cold steel core to match those looks. Once he made up his mind, Ettienne did not think twice before cutting a throat open. Yet he was also the only ruler on the eastern continent to think of humans as a sentient race, worthy of respect as a whole. And the only monarch on this side of the world willing to open his libraries to a scholar from a foreign court.

“I’ve an important matter to discuss.” Autumn glanced pointedly at the guards who’d flanked her and still stood in the room.

Ettienne studied Autumn for only a moment before making a gesture that sent his henchmen scuttling back into the corridor. Walking over to a crystal decanter set on a side table, Ettienne poured two glasses of brandy and held one out to her. “What is on your mind?”

Well, wasn’t that a loaded question. How exactly did one tell a king who was busy staving off civil war that he’s been serving up his own people for slaughter for centuries, never mind that his top intelligence agent had revealed the entire operation to his foreign counterpart?

Autumn took a small sip of what turned out to be a decadent drink, then put her glass down in favor of a tea cake from a nearby platter. After a moment's thought, she took a second. This was going to be a long day, and the little cakes had bits of chocolate baked into them.

"Should I send for the pastry chef?" Ettienne inquired.

It was probably a shot at her, but Autumn shrugged. "There is nothing I'd love more. Unfortunately, we've more existential matters to attend to just now. Can your majesty be in two places at once for a few hours?"

The king raised a brow and took a sip of the brandy, the sigil ring that he wore as a sign of office catching the light from the sun. It was more than just a symbol—the rune inscribed on it was a key to ancient magic—but Autumn doubted most people here realized that. The king marked her watching the ring but made no reference to it as he spoke. "It's Ettienne, Lady Autumn. As I've mentioned before, we need not stand on ceremony when we are alone. As for your other question, I am not sure I understand."

Of course he understood. She’d been wrong—this was going to be a three cake type of afternoon. "I need to have a conversation with you elsewhere," Autumn said bluntly. "Without the rest of the palace aware of the change in venue."

"I fear such action would bring undue danger to us both,” Ettienne said. “Not to mention the potential scandal. The Massa’eve court loves nothing more than to gossip.”

In other words, I’m too busy and too smart to take you at your word. Well, that was not altogether unexpected, but Autumn had owed it to Quinton to try. Alas, that was all the time she could spare on the attempt. Autumn straightened her dress. “When shadows whisper, the mountain echoes, Ettienne.”

Ettienne’s face went cold at Quinton’s coded phrase, the glass in his hand shattering to spray brandy onto the floor. Then he was in motion, a knife in his hand, the blade pressed to Autumn’s throat. The cold metal bit into her skin, a small sting spreading where the king was a hair’s breadth from drawing blood.

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