Page 31 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

“I need to ask,” I say softly, each word careful and measured. “When we decide to complete the bond, will it be your first time?” It’s not exactly the conversation I want to have, but it’s one Ineedto have. Knowing her answer changes everything about how I approach my mate.

Mina’s cheeks flush a delicate pink, and she looks up at me through lowered lashes. “No, it won’t be.” Her voice is steady, but there’s a sadness beneath the surface. “My sister waited and cried for a week after because her betrothed didn’t care to take his time with her. I refused to take the chance of that happening to me.” She pauses, jawtightening. “She cringes every time her betrothed touches her. There’s no love there.”

Her words pierce through me like a blade. I curl my fingers, suppressing the need to destroy something, anything, at the thought of someone hurting her that way. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, and it feels woefully inadequate.

“Don’t be. It was my choice.” She straightens, a fierce determination hardening her expression. “I made sure no one could use that against me.”

I step closer, closing the space between us until I can feel the heat of her body against mine. “Your strength never ceases to amaze me,” I murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I promise you, Mina, when we complete the bond, it’ll be on your terms. Always.”

A small smile curves her lips, and the fire in her eyes softens just a bit. “Thank you.”

I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb along the smooth skin. “So … dinner, then?” My voice is light, a deliberate attempt to ease the heaviness of our conversation.

She laughs softly, the sound like music in the tense silence of the room. “Yes, dinner sounds good. And then, maybe…” Her gaze turns heated, a mischievous glint sparking to life.

A low chuckle rumbles in my chest as I press a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Mina stalks toward the closet, her shoulders tense, every movement deliberate. The closer she gets, the more I can feel the electricity crackling in the air around us. When she swings open the doors, I see the cascade of silk, satin, and brocade, each dress more elaborate andsuffocating than the last. Her lips curl back, exposing a hint of fang as she glares at the collection, her breath a low hiss.

“I want to burn it all,” she growls, the words practically vibrating with suppressed fury. The reflection in the mirrored doors shows her eyes flashing with dangerous light. It’s a look I’ve only seen when she’s been pushed too far—like she might burn more than just the dresses if given the chance.

“We can before we leave if you want,” I murmur, stepping closer. She turns slightly, her eyes catching mine, and for a heartbeat, the tension eases. The corner of her mouth quirks up in a smile that’s more wolfish than pleased.

“Don’t give me ideas.” She shakes her head, then steps forward, fingers digging through the mass of fabric. It’s almost violent, like she’s searching for a weapon instead of a gown. I watch her, unable to ignore the way the scales along the back of her neck raise, small ridges of armor reacting to her heightened emotions.

“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping into the closet with her. My voice is gentle, low, but I can’t stop my beast from pushing forward. The air thickens with the presence of her dragoness—she’s projecting her size, her power, making the space feel cramped and dangerous.

“Dresses are required at dinner,” she bites out. Her gaze sharpens as she pulls a midnight black gown from the collection, holding it like a blade poised to strike.

“Why don’t I feel your mother’s dragon the way I feel yours?” The question hangs heavy in the air, and I wish I could take it back when she turns to face me. The temperature seems to drop, her eyes glowing with the ethereal light of her dragon’s rage.

“Did you notice the collar around Mom’s neck?” she asks quietly, the soft tone laced with poison. I nod, already regretting bringing it up. “It’s a modified mage cage. It prevents her dragoness from surfacing. Basically, it’s trapped deep in her subconscious.” Her lips twist into a grim smile as she holds up the dress, then glances at the shelf beside us. A collar, eerily similar to her mother’s, rests there like an accusation.

“Don’t tell me you have to wear that, too?” My dragon rumbles, a low growl that resonates with my anger. The idea of not being able to feel her, to connect on that primal level, sends rage burning through me.

“I do,” she murmurs, slipping the cursed thing around her neck with the grace of a queen donning a crown of thorns. “But mine doesn’t work. Garrett’s boyfriend is a mage, and he spelled it so it doesn’t affect my dragoness like it does Mom’s. It prevents others from sensing her, but it doesn’t hinder her at all.” She straightens the collar, and in an instant, the oppressive weight of her presence vanishes. The room feels empty—hollow. But I still feel her. Still sense her strength and fury simmering beneath the surface.

“See?” She raises her brows in challenge, then steps closer. Her hand rests on mine, and like a floodgate being opened, her dragoness washes over me in a heady rush, wrapping me in her warmth. I breathe her in, closing my eyes for a moment as the sensation of her magic crackles against my skin.

“I still don’t like it,” I murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. Her smile softens, and she leans into me, as if drawing strength from the contact.

“I don’t either. It’s all for show while we’re here. I’ll act subdued in front of my father and submissive to you. Remember, it’s all an act.” She rises on her toes, brushing her lips against mine in a soft, tentativekiss. I freeze, shocked by the sudden intimacy. But then, instinct takes over, and I deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her fingers threading through my hair.

When she pulls back, she rubs her face along my neck, then my chest. Her dragon’s scent swirls around me—possessive, claiming. I want to drag her closer, keep her there until we’re both drowning in it, but she steps away, breathless and flushed.

“Go get changed, and I’ll scent mark you better,” I murmur, my voice a husky growl. She flashes me a sly smile and disappears behind a screen.

The minutes tick by slowly. My dragon paces in my mind, anxious, possessive. When she finally emerges, holding the corset ribbons in her hands, I feel my heart stutter. The dress clings to her curves like a lover’s caress, the dark fabric making her skin glow like moonlight.

“Can you cinch me in?” she asks, turning so her back is to me. I swallow hard, stepping forward. My hands are steady as I take the ribbons from her, pulling them taut, slowly working my way up from the bottom.

“Tell me if it’s too tight,” I murmur, leaning in to trail kisses across her bare shoulders. Her skin is soft beneath my lips, and I can’t resist rubbing my face against the delicate flesh above her scales, marking her in a way that’s primal and deeply satisfying.

When I’m done, I rub my wrists over her bare arms, leaving my scent wherever I can. A thought strikes me, and I step back, unbuttoning my shirt. Mina’s gaze drops to my chest, lingering on the dark hairs that trail down my abdomen. She licks her lips, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“A lot of a male’s scent is on his chest and … lower,” I explain, my voice low and rough. Her hesitation lasts a heartbeat before she closes the distance between us, rubbing her cheek along my chest, then pressing her throat to the space between my pecs.

When she pulls back, her pupils are blown wide, her breath coming in shallow pants. I can feel the desire radiating off her in waves, and it takes everything I have not to pull her closer.

---