Page 79 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
“But at what cost?” Kitsuki demanded. He took another step closer but seemed to catch himself. “Your life? If Nasume has mastered necromancy, the price would be your soul.”
The emotion in Kitsuki’s voice stirred something deep within Maseo. It was more than mere concern from a king for a useful tool; it was personal, almost desperate.
“Why does it matter so much to you?” Maseo asked, his voice wavering.
Kitsuki looked away, his profile sharp in the silver light of the brazier. “You are someone I have come to respect. Through your earnest efforts, you have earned a place of trust within my court despite every obstacle placed before you.”
It was both more and less than what Maseo had hoped to hear. “Then please trust me to help your forces navigate those tunnels. Let me be the key to your victory. I want to do this for you and your kingdom.”
Kitsuki’s eyes filled with a glowing silver until only small flecks of blue remained. His posture shifted, becoming more predatory, more powerful. When he spoke again, his voice carried a deeper resonance that Maseo recognized as the dragon within. “We have no interest in victory at the cost of your sacrifice. We will not allow you to place yourself in such grave danger without our protection.”
Maseo stared, stunned by the sudden emergence of Kitsuki’s dragon. “Why?”
The dragon moved closer, eliminating the careful distance Kitsuki had maintained. He loomed over Maseo, the silver flames reflected in his eyes as he gazed down with an intensity that stole the breath from Maseo’s lungs.
“Because you are ours to protect,” the dragon said.
Maseo’s pulse quickened, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was hearing.
“The thought of Nasume laying hands on you again makes us want to tear the world apart,” the dragon continued in a possessive rumble. “We will ensure he never harms what has become essential to our happiness.”
“Essential?” Maseo whispered, the word slipping out before he could stop it.
“Yes.” The dragon lifted a hand, and Maseo couldn’t stop himself from flinching backward, his body reacting before his mind could process the movement.
Kitsuki’s hand froze mid-motion, silver eyes widening with immediate concern. The predatory intensity in his expression shifted to something protective and wounded. “You fear us.”
“No, not at all. I’m sorry. I know you would never hurt me. It’s just…” Maseo swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet those burning silver eyes. “I’m used to violent reactions to my heat. My instincts are confused.”
The dragon’s expression darkened with fury, but Maseo could sense the rage wasn’t directed at him. “Yet another reason to wish our heinous half brother no longer walked in the Living Realm.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Maseo said, though his hands trembled. “What matters is that I trust you. I know you’re not like him. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. But understand we would die before causing you harm, especially when you are at your most vulnerable.” His silver eyes studied Maseo with an intensity that made breathing difficult. Then, with deliberate slowness, his fingertips brushed against Maseo’s cheek.
Maseo’s heat flared in response, his shifter heritage betraying him with a rush of primal need that weakened his knees. His body recognized his potential mate despite all logic and propriety. The ache within him intensified tenfold in Kitsuki’s presence, making his skin hypersensitive, his pulse race, and his thoughts blur at the edges. It confused Maseo when he had never responded to anyone else the same way.
“Your scent calls to us.” The dragon’s fingers traced a path along Maseo’s jaw. Maseo should have stepped away, but his body refused to obey. His heat demanded submission to everything Kitsuki’s dragon offered with his touch.
With excruciating gentleness, the dragon leaned closer, his breath warm against Maseo’s ear. “May we?” His request was both commanding and pleading.
Maseo couldn’t form words, only managing a slight nod, knowing he was crossing a boundary that should remain untouched but feeling powerless against the tide of desire flooding his system. For Kitsuki and Auslin’s sakes, he should resist, but his traitorous body yearned for what it could never have.
The dragon’s nose brushed against the sensitive skin below his ear, then traced down the column of his neck to his shoulder. His lips hovered against Maseo’s pulse point. “You smell of sanctuary and temptation in equal measure.”
A soft whine escaped Maseo’s throat, an involuntary sound of submission that shocked him. His head tilted back of its own accord, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. His body moved without conscious thought, pressing closer to the dragon’s powerful frame. Though only half-wolf shifter, his instincts took complete control. He lowered his gaze, dropped his shoulders, and presented the nape of his neck in a gesture of absolute surrender.
“Perfect,” the dragon breathed, resting a hand on Maseo’s waist, drawing him closer until their bodies aligned. The hard evidence of an erection pressed against Maseo’s hip.
The intensity of his heat-influenced arousal was painful. His body responded with instincts he hadn’t known he possessed. His spine arched as his thighs trembled with the urge to part and present himself for mating. A broken moan escaped his lips as his hips sought friction, relief, and connection. His scent thickened with need, broadcasting his readiness in ways words couldn’t express.
The dragon rumbled in approval. “You would submit so beautifully for us.”
What little remained of Maseo’s rational mind screamed that what they were doing was wrong. When Auslin was Kitsuki’s mate, it could only end in heartbreak for them all. But driven by heat and primal instinct, every fiber of his being ached to be claimed by the person his body recognized as his mate.
“Your courage awakens our most primal instincts to cherish and defend,” the dragon continued. “Your resilience calls to something ancient within us that demands we keep you safe at any cost.”
Maseo couldn’t breathe. The dragon’s words were too intimate, too possessive, too much like the declarations he had only imagined in his most secret dreams. Each word, each touch, each shared breath fanned the dangerous hope he had tried so hard to extinguish. His heat burned, making him want to beg for what he had no right to ask for.
