Page 8 of City of Secrets and Shadows
As the dragon launched into the air, powerful wings struggling slightly against the strengthening wind, I felt the first hint of raindrops – rare and precious in this arid land. Below us, the desert floor was a tapestry of reds and golds, mesmerizing in its desolation. Ahead, the distant horizon was hidden behind the approaching wall of the storm, and somewhere beyond it, the Imperial City waited.
I had escaped the arena only to set my sights on an even more dangerous prize. Perhaps it was madness, as both men believed.But as the dragon carried us toward the promised shelter, I felt something like purpose hardening within me. Not just running from, but running toward.
Toward answers. Toward justice. Toward a future that, against all odds, might hold more than mere survival.
Sand swirled around us as the storm’s leading edge caught up with our flight. Through driving grit and thickening air, the dragon pressed onward, as determined as I was to face whatever lay ahead. Behind me, Septimus’s arms tightened around my waist, while Tarshi guided the dragon with gentle pressure from his knees.
Three escaped slaves on a stolen dragon, flying into the heart of a storm. It was either the beginning of something magnificent or the most elaborate suicide I could have imagined.
Either way, I was finally free to choose my own fate. And I chose vengeance.
3
Heat flooded my body as my dark dreams turned from cold death to dragon fire that raced through my veins. My hands moved down, sliding over his shaved head, the prickle of his newly grown hair beneath my fingers as his tongue circled my clit.
“Tarshi,” I gasped, my hips instinctively rising to meet his mouth.
He growled against my flesh, sending vibrations through my core that made me bite my lip to keep from crying out. His large hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wider as he devoured me with hungry precision.
“Quiet,” he murmured against my wetness, his breath hot and teasing. “You’ll wake Septimus.”
The overhang offered meagre protection from the desert storm, with wind driving stinging rain against my skin despite our shelter. Red lightning split the darkness every few minutes, illuminating our makeshift camp in brief, crimson flashes before plunging us back into shadow. Each thunderclap that followed seemed to shake the very stone around us.
Septimus’s snoring provided a steady counterpoint to nature’s violence. He lay curled on his side near the back of our shallow cave, one arm flung over his face as though to shield himself from dreams I couldn’t imagine. If he discovered Tarshi and I were lying together, he’d kill Tarshi for certain. For some dark reason, the thought of being discovered only heightened the forbidden pleasure.
“I can’t—” I whispered, my words cut short as he sucked my clit between his lips. My fingers dug into his scalp, holding him there as my body tensed.
He looked up at me, eyes glinting in the darkness like a predator’s. “You can,” he commanded softly. “And you will.”
“Gods,” I whispered, arching against his mouth as he slid one thick finger inside me. His laugh was a vibration against my most sensitive flesh, and I clutched at the red sand beneath me.
Tarshi lifted his head just enough to whisper, “Quiet, little dragon, or shall I stop?” His accent turned the threat into something exotic, dangerous.
“Don’t you dare,” I hissed, spreading my thighs wider.
Another flash of crimson lightning illuminated his face between my thighs, his expression hungry and determined. In that brief moment of light, I saw the glistening of my arousal on his lips, his chin, and I nearly came again from the sight alone.
When he slid a second finger inside me, I gasped at the stretch, the fullness. My body clenched around him as he worked me open slowly, deliberately, preparing me for what was to come. I knew what he was doing — what we both needed — and my body responded with a fresh flood of wetness.
“Please,” I whispered, not even certain what I was begging for.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating against my core. “So impatient.” His fingers continued their relentless rhythm, stretching me further as his tongue danced over my clit with devastating precision.
His tongue returned with renewed purpose, flicking and sucking in a rhythm that had me seeing stars behind my eyelids. When he added a third finger, curling them inside me with deliberate pressure, I had to press my forearm against my mouth to muffle my cry.
The pleasure built like a gathering storm, tension coiling tighter with each sweep of his clever tongue. I felt myself climbing higher, my hips moving of their own accord, chasing the release that hovered just beyond reach.
“Tarshi,” I whispered, my fingers digging into his scalp. “Gods, what are you doing to me?”
He paused just long enough to look up at me, his eyes gleaming in the darkness like a predator’s. “Tasting what’s mine,” he growled, then dipped his head again, his tongue working mercilessly against my sensitive flesh. The contrast between his gentle tongue and forceful fingers undid me completely. I stuffed my fist against my mouth as my orgasm ripped through me, my thighs trembling around his head.
He didn’t stop. If anything, my pleasure spurred him on, his movements growing more determined, more possessive. I felt myself building again, impossibly soon, as he sucked my clit between his lips.
“I can’t—” I whispered, but he ignored my protest, his free hand pressing down on my stomach to hold me in place.
“You can,” he murmured against my flesh, “and you will.”
The second orgasm hit me harder than the first, a wave that crashed through my entire body. I clamped my hand over my mouth to muffle my cry as my back arched off the ground. Tarshi held me down, his massive forearm across my hips as he worked me through the aftershocks, not letting me escape the exquisite torture.
