Page 44 of Power of Draken

"I truly hate wolves," I mutter to the world, as my eyes finally drift closed, my scars scraping against Logan’s shoulder.

Logan is no longer in the bedroll when I wake a few hours later, Kyrian sleeping soundly beside me. We'd shifted around in our sleep and I’ve somehow rolled half atop him, with my leg wedged between his powerful thighs and his heavy arm draped tight over my back and brushing theside of my breast. I'm basically tangled in him. We are tangled in each other.

I twist my head around to look for Logan, finding that he isn’t in my line of sight—at least as far as I can see in the shimmering moonlight. It’s not even dawn yet. Where is he? Should I go search for him? I look around again, hoping my moving about doesn’t wake Kyrian.

It doesn’t. But there is still no Logan. Maybe we went to patrol the site or stand watch. Last night, Kyrian had refused a fire from worry of alerting someone to our location… but the sounds I made shortly after that were anything but discrete… What if last night’s exquisite exploration was going to get someone hurt?

What if the universe wants to right itself, punishing me to balance the scale-tipping ecstasy I hoarded.

"Why are you awake?" Kyrian says not opening his eyes.

"I'm not," I pretend to mutter sleepily, as if talking to him from slumber.

"You are. Your breathing changed."

He’s monitoring my breathing? In his sleep? Is that even possible?

“Go back to sleep,” Kyrian orders.

I give up the act and gently try to extricate my leg from between his thighs. “Logan isn’t here,” I explain.

"Hmm. Don't give a fuck.” His thighs clamp down, not letting my leg escape. “Go back to sleep."

"What if something is wrong? What if he heard something? He might be in trouble."

Kyrian opens his eyes, their piercing blue hues brushing over my face sleepily while the rest of him remains sprawled beneath me.

"Do you think the wolves—" I start.

Kyrian seals his mouth over mine, effectively ending my protest. His tongue takes leisurely strokes, the delicious pressure turning my remaining words into a soft moan. I melt into that kiss, my body molding against the hard planes of Kyrian’s bare chest as he strokes and suckles. Gods, the man can kiss. Can do many things actually.

I’m slightly breathless by the time he finally releases me, his taste lingering wonderfully on my tongue. “What was that all about?”

“It was about making you stop talking, and going back to sleep.” He is on his back again, his eyes closed. “Did it work or are you going to start asking about Logan again?”

“What if I do?”

Kyrian shifts and huffs a hot breath over the top of my head, his voice not nearly as drowsy as it had been a heartbeat ago. “Then I will be forced to employ other measures.”

I open my mouth, but before I can utter another word, he rolls us over in a swift motion. One moment I’m half atop him, and then the next moment I’m on my side with my back against his chest, his leg hooking my thigh, and one iron-hard arm pinning my own against my sides. I’m utterly immobile.

"What are you...oh!" I gasp as his free hand slides between my legs, his long fingers finding my sensitive nub and beginning to stroke in slow, deliberate circles. Need blooms and spreads through my sex at once, and I feel myself getting wetter by the second as he works me, little jolts of sensation going all the way to my toes with each increasingly firm touch. Gods. I wiggle, trying to escape the inflow of heat now pooling in my core but Kyrian has me trapped, his fingers teasing me mercilessly. “Kyr -”

He stops and I whimper.

"Keep talking and find out just how long I can keep you on the edge," he rumbles, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

I suck in a shuddering breath and he chuckles. His cock is hard against my backside, the evidence of his arousal turning me on even more. "Wet and needy, and so very desperate to shatter…” he brushes his finger over my clit by way of reminder “… and yet unable to.”

I try to kick him, but it comes off as an ineffectual buck.

“Such valiant effort.” Kyrian huffs and makes me suffer for two more heartbeats before resuming his ministrations. His fingers pick up speed, rubbing and flicking against my clit with expert precision. Shockwaves of white-hot pleasure streak through me, Kyrian’s strong hold ensuring I feel every tiny movement of his delicious assault. More. Harder. Faster. Until the backs of my thighs, my sex, and even the soles of my feet all scream with need.

When he halts again, I lose all sense of shame. “No, please. Kyrian,” I pant desperately as my hips undulate, seeking that last bit of friction. “Don’t stop. Please. Not now.”

“Will you be good and stop talking?” he demands, tracing the hood around my engorged nub in a way that makes my back arc at the sudden new pressure. I didn’t know need could be this intense. That it could hurt so damn badly.

“Yes,” I promise desperately. “I’ll stop talking. Anything.”

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