Page 103 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
“Home,” she whispered, pressing against his chest, breathing him in. “I’m finally home.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
SORA
Sunlight filtered through crystal apertures overhead, bathing the wrecked chamber in its ethereal glow. Sora stirred, her body adrift between exhaustion and a strange, weightless calm.
The fierce, desperate heat that had consumed her for five relentless days had finally subsided, leaving behind a bone-deep satisfaction.
Something she once thought she could never be—after the endless, instinct driven need she’d experienced.
She stretched languidly, wincing as dormant muscles protested. Her skin felt hypersensitive, each brush of air against her scales sending pleasant tingles rather than the desperate fire that had consumed her throughout her heat.
Ignis draconic ruby form lay curled around what remained of their nest—a decimated collection of pillows, furs, and silken sheets. His breathing came deep and even, his enormous head resting beside her. Even in slumber, his tail remained curled protectively around her, an unconscious claim that warmed her heart. She’d enjoyed his possessiveness and how he’d always treated her as if she were the most precious thing he had ever known.
Her movement stirred him. One crimson eye slid open, sharp and watchful, cutting through the haze of his exhaustion the moment he caught sight of her—awake.
“Good morning,” she whispered, voice rough from days of passionate cries.
A rumble of affection vibrated through his chest, the sensation traveling through the stone floor to her body. His body shimmered as he shifted, scales flowing like liquid fire as his draconic form contracted. Within moments, he stood in his dragoon form beside their ruined nest, wings folded neatly against his back.
Ignis’s crimson gaze swept over the destruction surrounding them. Pillows lay eviscerated, their delicate stuffing scattered across the chamber floor. Silks hung in tatters from the sleeping platform. Furs were singed at the edges—evidence of moments when his control had slipped, releasing small bursts of dragon fire in the height of passion.
“I must retrieve new pillows and blankets for you,” he announced, frowning at the devastation. “To build you a proper nest.”
Sora couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips. After everything they’d shared—the raw, primal claiming, the tender moments between—his concern for proper nesting materials struck her as endearingly domestic.
Something she’d never thought to hear from an alpha dragon king.
“Maybe we need to get a dragon-proofed mattress,” she teased, pushing herself upright. “Or at least a flame resistant one.”
He huffed, smoke curling from his nostrils. “There is no such thing.”
Her gaze swept the wrecked chamber with a glance, taking in the full extent of the damage. Not just their nest had suffered—Ignis’s meticulously arranged hoard lay scattered as though a tornado had ripped through. Silken blankets shredded and half-buried beneath overturned rugs, pillows torn open and spilling feathers like snow across the stone floor. Precious gems and coins littered the floor in careless constellations. Ancient books lay splayed open, pages fluttering in the mountain’s natural air currents.
What had once been a curated trove of pride and memory now looked like the aftermath of a storm—wild, chaotic, scattered.
“We’ll have to clean the whole chamber,” she observed, heat creeping up her neck as memories flooded back—her body pinned against treasure chests, his draconic form pressing her into piles of gold as he called her his treasure, both of them lost to instinct and need. “Perhaps make it... heat-proof.” The blush deepened on her cheeks.
Ignis surveyed the chaos, his own expression reflecting surprise at their destructive passion. A low rumble filled his chest—not displeasure but something warmer, more satisfied.
“I enjoy hearing you make plans for our future,” he said, his scaled lips curving into a tender smile. “You can do whatever you want to our chambers—for it is now yours, as this mountain, land and clan are.”
Through their strengthened bond, a wave of happiness surged—not just contentment but profound joy. Behind it flashed images so vivid they might have been her own thoughts: herself seated atop his glittering treasure hoard, silver-scaled and nude like a queen upon a throne, while Ignis worshipped her between her legs.
The vision stirred something in her chest, a pleased hum of acceptance rather than the desperate arousal such images would have triggered days before. For the first time since her heat began, the sight of his powerful form didn’t send immediate fire coursing through her veins.
She frowned, pressing a hand to her stomach where the constant ache of need had dwelled. “Is my heat truly over?”
Ignis approached, head tilted in assessment. She felt his presence against her mind, a gentle probing that brought comfort rather than intrusion. His crimson gaze intensified, narrowing as he took her in with slow, deliberate scrutiny.
He reached out, taloned fingers gentle as they found the ruby scale embedded in her side—his sacrifice that had saved her life. With reverent precision, he traced a wavelike path up her torso to her spine, continuing until he reached his mark upon her neck.
“Impossible,” he muttered, voice thick with wonder.
“What?” Anxiety spiked through her. She glanced down, following the path his finger had traced—and froze.
A trail of ruby scales now speckled between her silver ones, forming a delicate pattern that traveled from his embedded scale to the mark at her neck. The contrast was striking—silver and ruby intertwined like a living embodiment of their unique bond and everything they’d gone through—together.
