Page 57 of Dragons' Mate
“I hope one of you lot understood any of that,” Hauck muttered to his brothers. Kit’s scales wereiridescent.He’d never seen anything like them. “Maybe you can explain it all to me. Later. A lot later.”
“Are you talking about the prophecy?” Tavias asked Kit. It was all Hauck could do not to punch him. “From distant lands, a mortal strays, with locks of white and air that plays. That part?”
Kit nodded.
Cyril picked up the stupid poem where Tavias left off. “Thus rises one that’s strong and true, who’ll conjure life her soul imbued.”
“Her spirit fierce,” Quinton said. Rutting Quinton. “- her power vast, her fate entwined with dragons' past.”
Oh for star’s sake. Hauck ran his fingers through Kit’s hair, savoring its silky feel along his skin. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she isn’t actually blond, remember? This is dye.”
“That’s not the part that’s about her,” Quinton said, addingyou idiotwith his clipped tone.
“No,” said Kit. “Cordelia. That first part of the prophecy, it was about Cordelia. I think—”
“You do as you wish,” Hauck interrupted, “but I’m done thinking.” Closing the short distance between them, Hauck pressed his mouth to Kit’s.
Kit let out a short gasp before opening herself to him, the mating bond between them roaring and vibrating with need. On his knees, Hauck tangled his fingers tightly in Kit's hair, anchoring them together as he savored her warmth and taste and soul. Kit tasted of citrus and power, of something new and ancient all rolled into one. She tasted gloriously of herself.
Alive. She was alive and she was his, and he was hers, and they were here. Everything else anyone wanted to talk about could go to rutting hell and wait its turn.
CHAPTER28
Kit
Iremember. I remember everything.
And right now, with Hauck’s mouth on mine, I don’t give one damn about any of it. My head tingles where Hauck has his hands tangled in my hair, the tiny prickles driving me as wild the press of his tongue in my mouth. Need rushes through me, more potent than anything I’ve felt before.
I grip onto Hauck’s shoulders, pressing deeper into the kiss. My body pushes toward him as if the torrent of magic that had just swept over me is hitting me again. More. More More. I need more. More than just kissing. And more than Hauck alone.
And it’s not just me. There is a presence inside me, a primal roaring presence that is both me and not me. And it wants too.
The potency of it is frightening.
Pulling my mouth off Hauck's, even for a moment, hurts. I pant as I scour the shelter to find Quinton in the pack, traces of panic spurring my heart into a faster beat. The control I have of my body, the one the pack has worked so hard for is slipping away into something different entirely.
Quinton’s intense silver eyes soften. “It’s alright, huma—” he winces, quickly correcting himself. “Kitterny. Let the frenzy take you. You don’t need to stop it. There will be time to think later.”
“Youreallydon’t need to stop it,” Hauck adds, even though no one asked him. His face is strained. So are his flies.
Strong hands brush over my back and shoulders, and I realize that Tavias and Cyril have come up together, like the twins they are. Their breaths are warm against my skin and their scents fill my lungs. Familiar yet magnified. They smell male and dominant and powerful and needy and mine.
Their mouths close around my breasts, each suckling fiercely on the sensitive flesh. Their hands roam over me, the heat from their skin searing into mine. My hands are roaming their bodies right back and there is nothing gentle or tentative about my touch as I rake my fingers over their muscular forms, the roughness of their scars and the smoothness of their tattoos. The jolting edges of the scales.
My tongue runs the length of scales on Cyril’s neck.
He roars and bites into me. The pain is sharp, exploding from my breast and blooming into molten pleasure.
I buck my hips, seeking more, more, more.
Hauck is there, shoving my thighs apart and bringing his mouth to my dripping sex. The first lick is so intense, so shocking, that I am left breathless. And then another. And then another, each one more intense than the last as Hauck adds the scrape of his canines to the assault of sensation he is launching at my core.
Cyril and Tavias shift their mouths to my neck, nipping and suckling as they run their hands possessively over my body. Their tongues are burning hot along my scales. Stars. The damn sensitive scales. How do they live with these?
Magic pours from me, slipping around the males' fingers, lashing at their skin.
I can’t stop it.
