Page 37 of Scorched By Fate

“Infection risk,” I choked, clinging to medic-mode like a lifeline. “Your mouth’s dirtier than a field medic’s—fuck!”

Blunt fangs grazed my earlobe. The hand on my hip slid around to grip my ass, hauling me flush against him. Every scaled inch scorched. The thick ridge of his cock pressed through our clothes, that unnatural fleshy tip writhing against me.

“Still scared,Zhyvarin?”

The alien word rolled against my neck. I didn’t know it. Didn’t care. The ledge tilted or maybe my brain short-circuited as his tail coiled around my calf, tip stroking a path above my ankle.

“Terrified,” I lied, raking nails down the groove of his spine. “Can't wait to see how you devour me.”

God, Iwasterrified.

I was barreling headlong toward a disaster I wasn't sure I could avoid. But I couldn’t show it. Couldn’t give him that power. So I told him the truth in the voice of a lie, pushing him to the edge, hoping he’d pull me back. Or maybe that he’d push me over.

He laughed and reclaimed my mouth, and it felt like breathing after being held underwater. For once, I didn't care about anything other than him and me; that was what terrified me. The kiss was surrender and conquest, all teeth and dominance. I bit down hard and felt the metal of the barbell in his tongue.

He snarled, wings battering the cliff face as he spun us, pinning me against the heated stone his body had shielded.

Ash clung to the sweat-slick planes of his chest, collecting around shining nipple rings. My shirt hung in ribbons.

“Mine.” The declaration seared my throat.

The mountain quaked beneath us. I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

His claws froze holding the shredded remains of my bra, the curved tip trembling millimeters from the clasp. The tremor in his hand would’ve been invisible if my chest weren’t flush against his, feeling the live-wire tension corded through his muscles. My smile felt like a blade—sharp, defensive, honed on decades of triage bravado.

“Need help?”

I dragged my nails down the ridged valleys between his back scales, savoring the full-body shudder it ripped from him. His green scales glistened under Volcaryth’s fevered glow.

Vyne’s growl quaked through my sternum. “Cease testing me.”

“Funny,” I breathed, rolling my hips to grind against the throbbing ridge of his cock still trapped under his pants. “I thought warriors lived for challenges.”

His gaze dropped to my exposed chest, pupils swallowing the last slivers of yellow. Sweat pooled in the hollow of his throat. My tongue darted out, traitorous, and his restraint shattered.

Blunt fangs scraped my collarbone—not a bite, a brand. Claws cinched my hips, lifting me until my legs locked around his waist. Sharp stone gnawed my shoulders, the bite dull compared to the furnace of his scaled torso.

“Don’t,” he rasped against my sternum, tongue lapping salt from my cleavage. The tip seared a path down my breast.

My laugh broke into a gasp as I felt his tail climb up my thigh. The ridged underside ground against my inner knee while the tip pricked a warning trail up my calf.

I fisted the dark hair at his nape, wrenching his head back. “Then quit treating me like I’ll shatter.”

Feral light ignited his gaze. A claw split the band on my chest, shredding the bra’s last threads. The material fluttered downward. His palms—scaled, searing—claimed my breasts, testing their give against his callouses.

“Yes,” he grated, reverence roughened by lust. A claw-tip circled my nipple, catching just enough to sting. I arched into the burn, and he groaned, canines gleaming. “Say it.”

I nipped at his neck, trying for anything I could reach. His hips pressed me harder against the cliff wall, tail teasing my legs wider. “Make me.”

His claws took care of my pants, exposing every part of me. Bitter air kissed my thighs as he shredded fabric.

Breath scorched my ear. “Zhyvarin.”

That word. It sent a spike of heat through me.

His tail was a fucking menace. And I loved it. The ridged underside ground slow circles over my sex, each stroke making me shudder.

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