Page 15 of A Story of Mates and Temptation

He presses a soft kiss on my forehead before pulling back slightly.

“How did you get a dragon like that? Where is it from?” I ask, trying to process everything at once.

“We’ll talk soon,” he says, his tone possessive. “But first, my mate and I need to be alone.”

The way he growls the wordmatesends a shiver through me.

Calix steps forward, and his grin lights up the space, right before he bows his head low. He isn’t the only one bowing. Everyone behind Calix is on their knees, except for Daegan. The words “dragon king” are whispered like a prayer around the building crowd.

Daegan moves forward. “We need?—”

“No, I need my woman. You can wait.” Ziven doesn’t wait for further objections. He scoops me into his arms like I weigh nothing, his grip firm but careful.

“You’re hurt.” His voice is low as he carries me. “And is Hettie here?”

“It’s not a story you want to hear,” I admit quietly, resting my head against his chest. “And yes. She is safe.”

“Where’s your house?” he asks.

I give him directions, and he strides toward it with purpose. When we reach the doorway, he seems massive, nearly filling the frame as he steps inside and shuts the door behind us.

The small room feels even tinier with him in it. There’s a modest bed, a simple chair, a woven rug, and a makeshift wardrobe. Ziven’s intense gaze sweeps over everything before landing back on me.

He sets me gently on the bed, lifting my shirt slightly to examine the stitches, and his jaw tightens. From his pocket, he pulls out a vial of clear water.

“Healing water from the mansion,” he explains. “I sensed you weren’t well. We made a stop, killed a few Silkvir on the way, and left. I wanted to test my new dragon.”

I drink the healing water, breathing in relief as I feel my body mending. I glance down, watching in amazement as the cut fades before my eyes, leaving behind nothing but scarred skin and my unhealable bite mark scars.

“What happened?” Ziven demands.

“I ran straight into Prince Emyr in the forest,” I say quietly. “He had Hettie. I made a deal with him—that I’d go with him if he let her go. He was desperate enough to agree, and he did.”

I pause, swallowing hard as I leave out the part where I held a dagger to myself. How could I possibly explain that to him? That I tried to leave this world—leave us?

“Anyway,” I continue, “I woke up in the castle. He was there. He did this”—I gesture to where the scar is fading—“in fury because I wouldn’t be the blood slave he remembered. I didn’t want to be anything to him. He wanted me to marry him. He even brought the king in; it was all but agreed.”

Ziven’s eyes narrow. “How did you get out?”

“Daegan.”

His eyebrow arches in surprise, and I nod.

“I know,” I admit. “He flew straight to me, hid out all day and night, and then at dawn, he crashed into the castle to save me.He used the bond to find me, to know exactly where I was, and he was the only one who could do that.” Ziven’s expression darkens. “Other than you,” I admit softly. “I tried to kill myself.”

His face freezes. Shadows gather in the corners of the room, twisting and dancing as his anger rises. “I didn’t want to,” I rush to explain. “Please don’t think I was trying to leave. I just didn’t want to be his again. For some reason, the vampyre blood didn’t work when I…died. I healed and came back. He said it was because I was born in the Twilight Dynasty, that the magic doesn’t work properly on me. I’m still fae, but nothing’s changed.”

Ziven’s fury burns in his eyes. His voice trembles with restrained anger as he growls, “You tried to leave.”

“So did you!” I shout back, cutting him off.

He flinches, his breath hitching. “Story, where have you been?”

“Fighting for us,” I say fiercely. “Never giving up. I felt you die too. Don’t you dare be angry at me! I did what I had to do in that situation. Don’t you dare.”

“I have every right to be mad!” he roars.

“And so do I!” I scream back, the heat between us flaring like a wildfire in the forest, the trees only fuelling the rushing anger. We’re both breathing heavily, right before his lips slam down on mine, and he pushes me straight back onto the bed with him.Yes. I’m still angry, still furious at him as we both start tearing each other’s clothes off, but none of it seems to matter as long as I have him here, with me, reminding both of us that we are still alive. His lips devour mine with a branding claim, a claim I feel in my blood, in my very soul. He kisses his way down my jaw, to my neck where he sucks and nips at my skin, softly markingme, before moving down my body. He groans when he gets to my breasts, lightly kissing my nipples one by one. The friction, the teasing, is too much as I moan under him.

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