Page 93 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Okay.” She relaxes, but her concern for the dragon touches something in me. Her capacity for care, even for a creature others might fear, reminds me of why she’s different from the queens we’ve known before.
We don’t speak while the castle moves, grating and rushing around us. It’s taking its time to decide on a structure tonight.
“Bodin?”
“Yes, Calamity?”
“Why are you avoiding me? Why does Legion refuse to touch me?”
I swallow.
“Emrys doesn’t surprise me,” she sighs. “He’s always had some kind of burning hate for me.”
“Ignore him. It’s not about you.”
“Even Styx, I understand.” She gnaws at her lip. “That was about me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . . I called you all monsters in Elphyne. Maybe he hates me because of that, too.”
“He won’t remember that,” I point out pragmatically. I don’t. “And he doesn’t hate you.”
“He doesn’t?”
The hope in her voice melts my heart. “No.”
“Then what is it?”
I stare down at her. The curve of her cheeks, her scent mingled with mine, makes this hard to resist. I growl at myself, and she looks up, confused. “You keep doing that—growl.”
“Ignore me, too.”
“See? That’s the thing. I can’t.” She digs her fingertips past my belt again. “I won’t.”
“You should.”
“You keep saying dumb things like that too. We’re mates, Bodin. It’s too late to ignore this.”
I close my eyes, fighting against the surge of desire her words ignite. I can’t risk hurting her. I can’t risk losing control like I did with the canary, especially since I can’t remember exactly what I did.
Chapter 38
Bodin
Willow’s fingers sink deeper behind the waistband of my pants.
I move to tug her back out, but a stone block grazes my elbow. I return my hand to the frame, angling my body to take the hit instead of her, but it doesn’t come. And she doesn’t appear to notice. Her head is dipped, her breath hot against my bare belly.
“Why are you avoiding me?” she repeats.
“Are you talking to my cock?”
“Maybe he’ll actually give me answers. He seems more honest than you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Every brain cell I own zeroes in on her touch, begging her to move a little to the left. Yes. One more swipe—a scrape against the tip. Fuck me, how I ache to take her. Here. Now, while we’re surrounded by danger.
“Then do it.”
