Page 73 of Castor
“Not enough.” Castor’s hand trembled as he placed it on the side of my neck. “I wasn’t going to tell you this. I was just gonna keep it bottled inside. But I don’t think I can hold it back anymore.”
“Hold what back?”
“That you’re my mate. I realized it on the trip to Greece, and it’s only become clearer since then. I don’t want you marrying some other guy. I don’t want anyone else to ever hold you like I’m holding you now. I don’t want his lips on yours or his hands on your body.” He expelled a shaky breath as he caught my chin in his grip. “I want you to be mine.”
And then we kissed. I wasn’t sure if he initiated it or if I did, but our lips melded together as our hands roamed under clothing and across smooth skin.
Castor smelled like sun-warmed earth and bay rum trees from our hike through the woods, and he tasted like pure heaven. He felt like it too.
We didn’t make it to the bed. He guided me onto the chaise lounge and got on top of me, the piercing in his mouth swirling with my tongue as the kiss deepened. I broke from his lips to nibble his collarbone as he worked my pants down. The earthy scent of his bare skin drove me wild.
“Fuck me,” I said as he kissed down my chest and flicked his tongue ring against my nipple.
Castor grabbed the lube from my bag—brand-new—and slicked a finger to open me. One finger turned to two before I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to feel him inside me. Needed to be consumed by him, body and soul.
When he finally joined our bodies, I closed my eyes and hung my head back on the cushion with a soft groan.
“Look at me, little dragon.” He caressed my jaw as he ground his hips into me. “I want to see you.”
I opened my eyes and forgot how to breathe for a moment. Castor’s tender expression warmed my heart and shattered it at the same time.
Emotion clogged in my throat as he reclaimed my mouth in a searing kiss. He said I was his mate. I had wondered for a while if he was mine, and now I knew for certain.
“What would you do if you ever found your mate and learned you couldn’t be with them?”
His question from that night finally made sense.
And I still didn’t have an answer.
***
The soft white sand on the beach was warm under the morning sun. I walked barefoot along the shore, finding comfort in the tropical atmosphere. I had woken before Castor, and after holding him for a bit, breathing in the amazing, warm spice of his skin in the early morning, I’d gotten out of bed and gone for a walk.
I needed time alone to think.
Aqua-blue water stretched in front of me, rays of sunlight reflecting off the surface. Coconut palms swayed in the breeze, and shadows moved along the lush green mountains as a lone cloud passed in front of the sun.
A tingling warmth surged through my veins as I closed my eyes and brought forth the dragon that was ever present under my skin. I felt at home in my human form, but there was something incredibly freeing about letting down my walls and embracing my true self.
Everything around me enhanced: sounds, smells, and when I opened my eyes, sights too. It was like I was more attuned to the world around me. Part of the earth and not just simply existing on it.
Scales rippled up my arms, across my chest, and down my body. The tattoo of the katana on my back stirred, waiting to be set free.
I stepped into the water, and my blood sang. As an elemental dragon, water not only gave me a sense of home but also gave me strength. Grounded me. I walked until I was thigh-deep in the tide and then tipped my head up to face the blue sky.
A familiar scent tickled my nose.
“Do all dragons have tats of swords on their backs?”
I turned to see Castor standing on the shore, no shirt and in yellow swim trunks. His red hair caught the sun, making it look like it was on fire. His creamy skin had tanned over the weeks spent basking under the Greek sun, and it would no doubt fare the same right there in the Caribbean. As I admired the sight of his muscled torso and remembered what his strong arms had felt like around me the night before, the singing in my blood intensified.
It sang for him.
“No,” I finally answered, holding out a hand to him. He smiled and stepped forward, joining me in the sea. “The sword chose me upon my birth. It’s been a part of me ever since.”
“It chose you?” He linked our fingers and met my gaze, a curious tilt to his brow. “How?’
“Someone tried to assassinate me.”
