Page 16 of Captive Heart

He flips us over in one swift movement, wrapping a hand around my throat as the other disappears between my thighs, feeling just how wet I am. He brings those same fingers to his mouth and licks them dry as my mouth falls open in some twisted kind of arousal.

"Mine," he growls deeply, the word vibrating from his body and into mine.

Yours.

14

ZOLDRYN

Istare at the jagged ceiling of my lair, my chest rising and falling with each breath I take. My body is still humming with the aftershocks of our encounter, and I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

But it wasn't just the physical release that had me feeling this way. It was the power that radiated from Lyra, the magic that seemed to pulse through her veins. I've never felt anything like it before, and it was intoxicating.

As I lay there, I can't help but think about what this means. I had always assumed that her power was tied to her fear, that it was something she could only access when she was afraid. But now I knew that wasn't true. Her power is tied to her emotions, and it's stronger than I could have ever imagined.

I glance down at Lyra, who is still sleeping peacefully in my arms.

"A vixen of a human," I decide.

Her naked body is pressed against mine, and I can feel the warmth of her skin against my own. I can't help but feel a sense of protectiveness towards her, a desire to keep her safe from harm. To make sure no creature, no man, discovers her powers the way that I have.

As the days go by, I continue to lavish her with finery from my hoard. I watch as she tries on each piece, her eyes shining with excitement. It's a sight that I never tire of, and it's one that brings me a sense of satisfaction that I can't quite explain.

I watch as Lyra's eyes light up at the sight of the jewels and trinkets I've brought her after my patrol. She runs her fingers over the delicate gold chains and precious stones, a smile playing on her lips. It's a small price to pay for the power that I know she possesses.

"These are beautiful," she says, looking up at me with a sparkle in her eyes. "Thank you."

I can't help but feel a sense of pride at her reaction. But it's not just the material possessions that bring her joy. I take her flying each day, soaring through the skies in my dragon form. She clings to me tightly, her laughter ringing out as we dive and twist through the clouds.

At night, we share my bed. I watch as she falls asleep in my arms, her breathing steady and even. It's a feeling of peace that I never knew I needed, and it's one that I find myself craving more and more.

But as much as I revel in these fleeting moments of happiness, I know that I can't afford to let them consume me. My ultimate goal still looms ahead, and I need to discover how to harness her power for my own benefit. That means getting her to trust me, to confide in me.

I pepper her with question after question, revealing small truths about myself in the hopes that she'll do the same. It's a delicate dance, one that requires finesse and patience.

"Two hundred and twenty five," I murmur in response to her query about my age.

Her eyes widen in shock, and her fingers cease their gentle tracing of the scales on my abdomen. "Y-you're over two hundred years old?"

A chuckle escapes my lips, fueled by my growing amusement. "Ah, yes. Dragon shifters have a much longer lifespan than you humans." I watch her closely, noting the surprise in her eyes.

"I'm only twenty seven," she confesses meekly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I feel a surge of triumph at getting her to open up, even if it's just a small piece of information. "Tell me more," I command, my voice low and steady.

Her brows furrow in confusion. "More?" she asks, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

"Yes. About you." I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees as I try to make myself appear less intimidating.

She shrugs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I don't know. I was born of two slaves, raised by slaves…" Her voice trails off, and I can sense the pain behind her words.

"But you ran away?" I prompt, eager for more information. "Why?"

Her eyes meet mine with that rare spark of defiance. "Would you like to live a life of servitude to an ungrateful prick?" she spits out, her words laced with venom.

Her cursing amuses me, but I can't help but think about my own hatred for the Elder. She and I may not be so different, after all. I decide to reveal a little more about myself, hoping to gain her trust. "I understand your anger," I say softly. "I'm not fond of the Elder either."

Her eyes widen in surprise, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. "But you're next in line to become the Elder," she says, her voice filled with confusion.

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