Page 76 of Forged in Fire
My dragon senses pick up the lingering scent of violence, but something else too—the strange, clean smell of accelerated healing. These injuries should be fresh, angry, but already the edges of the cuts look pink instead of raw red. The bruises that should be deep purple are already showing yellow around the edges.
“They hurt you because of me,” I whisper.
His eyes flash with something fierce and protective. “And I’d do it again before I’d let them touch you.”
My shadows respond to the rush of emotion, reaching toward him like they’re drawn to his pain. But instead of recoiling like most people do, his own power rises to meet mine. I can feel it—that controlled fire that reflects my own, stronger now than it was before. Silver light dances along his fingertips where they touch my skin.
When he cups my face and kisses me again, it’s different—deeper, more claiming, like he’s pouring everything he can’t sayinto the connection between our lips. Power flows between us, dragon calling to dragon, fire weaving with shadow.
I lose myself in the taste of him, in the way his hands know exactly how to touch me, in the supernatural current that arcs between us every time our skin meets. When he trails kisses along my collarbone, when his mouth finds the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, I make a sound I don’t recognize—desperate and needy and completely his.
“Iris,” he breathes against my skin, and hearing my name in that rough, strained voice sends sheer need straight through me. My shadows respond, wrapping around us both like a protective cocoon.
My hands explore the hard lines of his chest, careful around the fresh injuries, tracing old battle scars and newer wounds with gentle fingers. When I press my lips to a scar across his ribs—one that looks days old instead of hours—he sucks in a sharp breath that makes me feel powerful.
His skin is warm against my mouth, smooth and clean, with the smoky scent I’ve come to associate with him. I dip a little and take a tight nipple into my mouth. I’m rewarded with a low groan, his hands tangling into my hair, pressing my face closer to his chest.
“God, Riven,” I breathe his name against his skin. “You don’t know how scared I was.” I tilt my head and gaze up at him.
“Shhhh,” he says. He guides me back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as moonlight paints silver across our skin and shadows dance around us. When he settles over me, when I feel the weight and heat of him, something inside me clenches with pure want.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion as his hands trace every inch of me. “So perfect.”
The way he touches me—like he wants to burn the memory of me into his mind—steals what’s left of my breath. His fingertipstrace a trail down my chest, drawing circles around my nipples, and a ripple of gooseflesh makes my skin pull tight.
“Ohhh,” I moan, “God. Like that. Just like that.”
Power flows between us with every caress, my shadows intertwining with his. When his mouth follows the path his hands have taken, when he worships me with a devotion that makes my toes curl and my back arch, I understand that this is what I’ve been missing my entire life.
This connection. This perfect storm of need and trust and desire and power.
I return the favor, stripping off his jeans and exploring him with the same careful attention. Fingertips trailing down his chest to his abs that tighten under my touch. I learn what makes him gasp, what makes his control crack at the edges, what makes scales ripple over his skin.
“Fuck,” he growls as I graze my nails up his thigh, the light coating of hair springy against my fingertips. I nip at his chin, feeling the graze of his stubble. Our bodies slide against each other, warm and smooth, his cock hard against my hip, throbbing with a need that matches the clenching in my core.
His hand slides up my inner thigh, reaching the juncture there. I jolt as his thumb skims over the seam of my pussy.
“Riven!” I gasp as his fingertip slips between my lips. I’m wet, hungry for him. It’s a hunger that grows insatiable as he finds my clit and rubs small circles over it.
“Wait!” I gasp, choking out little whimpering sounds. I’m ready to come, but I want him inside me when it happens. I reach for his shaft, gliding my hand along its thick length and feeling him shudder. “I want to feel you inside me.”
He rolls onto me then, settling between my spread thighs, his hands framing my face as I guide the head of his cock to my slit. We join in a rush of heat and sensation that makes the universe spin, and I understand for the first time what it means to becomplete. Every touch sends lightning along my nerve endings, every kiss feels like coming home, and when I look into his eyes, I see something that makes my chest tight with emotion.
We move together like we’ve done this a thousand times before, like our bodies were designed for each other. Each thrust brings me closer to an explosion that I know is going to blow my mind. But he takes me there slowly, holding off each time my movements become more frantic, more needy.
“God, you’re driving me crazy,” I choke out when he pulls me back from the brink yet again.
“I want it to last,” he whispers against my mouth. He’s shuddering against me, and I can feel how hard he’s working to hold off his own orgasm. But I can’t take it anymore.
With a choked sound, I wrap my legs around his waist, locking him into me as I thrust my hips up and grind against him.
“Fuck! Iris…” he groans against my throat as my pussy begins to flutter, walls clenching around his shaft.
“Now!” I gasp. “I need to come now!” The world shatters around us, and I feel him follow me over the edge, with a connection so deep it feels like our souls have touched. Our combined power explodes outward in a wave of silver and shadow that makes the air seem to shimmer, and for one perfect moment, I swear I can feel his heartbeat as if it were my own.
“Fuck! Fuck, yes!” he gasps, every muscle and sinew taut and straining as he hovers over me, his face a mask of pleasure. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more sexy than watching this man come undone.
Finally, once the waves have turned to ripples and the tiny aftershocks have begun to fade, he slumps onto me, his cheek against mine as he catches his breath. Then he rolls his weight to the side, pulling out of me, tugging me with him, and cradling me against his chest.
