Page 73 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
He sank onto a submerged ledge, settling her between his powerful thighs. His tail flicked through the water with serpentine grace, wrapping around a nearby shelf to retrieve a natural sponge and crystal vials of cleansing oils.
“You don’t need to do this,” she protested weakly, even as her body betrayed her with a shiver of anticipation. “I can bathe myself.”
“Can,” he agreed, uncorking a vial that released the scent of mountain herbs and something sweeter, like moonflower petals. “But I can too.”
His clawed hands gently tugged at her sleeping shift, the question in his touch clear. She nodded, lifting her arms to allow him to pull the damp fabric over her head.
The cool air nipped at her exposed skin for only a moment before the steaming water enveloped her as he lowered her deeper into the pool. Strangely, she felt no embarrassment at her nudity. Perhaps because he’d always been unclothed in his natural state, treating it as the most ordinary thing in the world. Perhaps because he’d already seen—and pleasured—her body twice, with once in their shared dreamscape. Or perhaps because the scale embedded in her side created a connection that transcended ordinary boundaries.
She was tied to him in ways that only existed in stories… to a monster who’d only existed in myth and legend. The constant hum of his emotions was proof of his feelings… and their unique connection.
He poured cleansing oil onto the sponge, working it into a rich lather before drawing it across her shoulders with surprising gentleness for such powerful hands.
Each touch sent ripples of awareness through her sensitized nerves, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes, leaning back against his chest with a soft sigh.
“You’re not nervous,” he observed, voice rumbling against her back as he worked the sponge down her arms.
“Should I be?”
His chuckle vibrated through her. “Most humans maintain peculiar modesty even with their mates.”
“We’re not exactly a conventional pairing.” She let her head fall back against his shoulder as his hands moved to her collarbone, the sponge circling teasingly close to her breasts without quite touching them. “Besides, after almost dying twice since arriving on Artania, embarrassment seems... trivial.”
His movements stilled. “What occupies your thoughts?”
“Death,” she admitted quietly. “How strange it is to have died on Earth only to wake here. And then to almost die again at the northern pass...”
Ignis set the sponge aside, one clawed hand tilting her chin until she faced him. His other hand pressed gently over the ruby scale embedded in her side—a reminder of what had happened and what they had now—the contact sending warmth radiating through her core.
“Close your eyes and surrender to your future,” he urged, his voice dropping to a hypnotic cadence. “Purge your thoughts of returning to the life you once had, for this is your second chance to live. Allow me to guide your soul where you long to be... who you long to be...” His forehead pressed against hers, breath mingling with her own. “Only then, when you’ve truly accepted your life on Artania, can you belong to me.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed, the weight of his words settling into her bones with shocking resonance. “How did I survive?” she whispered. “I know you already told me once, but I still don’t understandhow. After the blade—I felt the poison burning through me.”
“I gifted you my fire essence—a piece of my soul,” he explained, palm still pressed against the scale at her side. “To give you yet another chance at life. The thought of losing you—” His voice caught, something raw and vulnerable beneath the surface. “I couldn’t bear it.”
She pulled back slightly, studying the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “Is this just the Alpha King speaking? Needing an Omega to bring magic back to your clan? Or the desire to be blessed once more by the Moon Goddess?”
“At first, perhaps,” he admitted, the honesty surprising her. “When I first caught your scent at the Selection Ball, instinct recognized what you were—what you would become.” His thumb traced the line of her jaw with exquisite gentleness. “But now? I’ve fallen for your mind, your courage, your caring heart. The way you aren’t bothered by social statuses, only knowledge—and look at my world with wonder rather than fear.”
Sora bit her lip, uncertainty threading through her despite the conviction in his voice. “But how can this work? You can only change into a human because of an enchanted mask. Most of the time you’re—”
“A monster?” he finished, one eyebrow arching. “A beast. A dragon.”
“Different,” she corrected firmly. “I just don’t know how we—physically—”
He brushed her wet hair back from her face, his touch leaving trails of heat across her skin. “Your scent grows more intoxicating each day,” he murmured, deliberately changing the subject. “Cinnamon and moonflower and something uniquely yours.” His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. “I beg of you to trust me,” he urged, his voice roughening. “Savor the sensations between us. Push aside your doubts. Touch me. Explore me freely. Let our instincts guide us… Let our bond truly begin.”
The bare longing in his voice stripped away her hesitation. Whatever this was between them—prophecy, biology, or something entirely of their own making—she couldn’t deny its power.
She couldn’t deny her attraction tohim—the soul inside his draconic body.
“I meant what I said,” she whispered, reaching up to trace the outline of scales along his jaw. “I’m yours. Whatever this is between us... I’m willing to see where it leads.”
Something fierce and possessive flared in his eyes. He pressed his forehead against hers, as the steam formed a curtain of heat around them.
“Once you’re truly bonded to me,” he promised, voice dropping to a rumble, “I could never hurt you. Our connection would alert me to any discomfort. My flame would recognize you as part of itself—as you already are to me.” His hands cradled her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones with reverent gentleness. “But first—you must finish healing before we explore how we would fit.”
She refused to let her mind wander onhow—not trusting herself to stop—and what it would lead to.
