Page 33 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
The thought of his hands on her bare skin sent a different kind of heat coursing through her veins. The scent of him—midnight stone and ancient fire—wrapped around her, dragging some feral part of her to the surface.
She needed him—not out of want, but out of some desperate, aching need she didn’t understand—screaming to have him ease her pain…
“Yes,” she whispered, need overriding caution. “Please, just make it stop.”
Without hesitation, she tugged her sleeping shift over her head, leaving only spidae silk undergarments clinging to her damp skin. Even these felt like torture against her hypersensitive flesh, but some vestige of Earth modesty prevented her from discarding them.
She would if he’d requested, trusting he knew what was best for her.
If her near-nakedness shocked him, Ignis revealed nothing. Why would he? His people had little use for clothing, save for the enchanted mask he’d worn when they first met.
His expression remained carefully neutral as he uncorked the vial, pouring a measure of the shimmering liquid into his scaled palm. The scent filled the chamber—mountain herbs, winter wind, and something otherworldly that defied description.
“This may feel cold at first,” he warned, approaching her with predatory grace that belied his massive form. “But it should swiftly ease your pain, for it’s made from the waters of one of the few moonwells scattered about Artania.”
The first touch of his hand against her shoulder sent lightning through her veins. Sora gasped, eyes fluttering closed as blessed relief flooded through burning skin. His taloned fingers moved with unexpected gentleness, spreading the salve across patches of silver scales with meticulous precision.
“Better?” he murmured, voice dropping lower as he worked the healing liquid into her skin. “Or should I call for a healer?”
“Yes,” she breathed, leaning into his touch without conscious thought. “No need to summon a healer. You’re doing well on your own.”
He moved behind her, strong hands tracing the line of emerging scales along her spine. Each caress spread cooling relief in its wake, yet simultaneously kindled something deeper, more primal. His palms glided over her shoulder blades, where the densest clusters of scales had formed overnight, tracing patterns as though reading ancient script written in her skin.
“These follow the celestial formation of the Dragon Mother,” he observed, voice reverent. “Precisely as the prophecy foretold.”
Sora should have bristled at the mention of prophecy, at being reduced to cosmic design rather than individual choice. Instead, she found herself arching into his touch, craving more of the relief his hands provided.
Or perhaps it wasn’t just relief she sought.
His chest rumbled with approval as she leaned back against him, her head resting against his scaled shoulder. Heat radiating from his body contrasted with the cooling balm—somehow not bothersome, but comforting—creating a sensation that hovered at the edge between pleasure and pain.
“These,” he continued, fingers tracing the delicate scales forming at her hips, “mark you as royalty among dragonkind. The pattern is unmistakable.”
His hands worked lower, spreading the healing liquid across her thighs where scales shimmered beneath skin still mostly human. Every touch felt like electricity, like awakening, like coming home to a place she’d never known she belonged.
When his fingers brushed the sensitive skin behind her knee, Sora couldn’t suppress a soft moan. Ignis stilled instantly, his breath warm against her neck.
“I’ve overstepped,” he whispered, starting to withdraw.
“No.” She caught his wrist, surprising herself with the swiftness of her reaction. “It helps. Please don’t stop.”
He continued his ministrations, each touch carefully controlled despite the tension she sensed building within him. His scent intensified—smoky and intoxicating. It wrapped around her like invisible wings—feeling how safe she did shielded under his before—heightening every sensation.
“Turn,” he instructed softly.
Sora complied, suddenly face-to-face with him. The crimson of his eyes had darkened, pupils expanded until only a thin ring of burning scarlet remained. She watched his gaze track the silvery scales spreading across her collarbone, trailing between her breasts, disappearing beneath the silk that barely covered her.
“Your transformation progresses faster than I anticipated,” he observed, voice deeper than before. “The emergence should complete within days, not weeks.”
“And then what?” she asked, leaning forward until bare millimeters separated them. “What happens when I’ve fully changed?”
His taloned fingers froze against her ribcage. “Then you choose. Where and how to live.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And your alpha, if you desire one.”
The possessive hunger in his gaze contradicted his words. Every line of his powerful body screamed claim, possess, mine.
In truth, she knew she should be afraid—for they were alone and he was much more powerful than her—both in strength and position. If she were on Earth, she knew she would… have to protect oneself from unwanted male attention. But she wasn’t there, she was on Artania, with someone who’d had nothing but respect for her, regardless of what her kind—here—had done to his people.
Ignis stood, watching her, maintaining that careful distance, that deliberate restraint, allowing her the freedom to decide.
