Page 81 of Seduced By the Dragon Lord (Dragon Lords 2)

“Orrriiik!”she screamed, euphoric, her core convulsing, clutching him tighter.

An elongated, almost pained bellow ripped from his lungs. He grew impossibly tense, his shaft thickening even more inside her. He slammed into her with one final, blissful thrust, and she felt his scorching seed spurting forth, lashing her from within.

He thrust several more times before he was spent completely. Both of them fought for breath. She marveled for a moment that they hadn’t collapsed the table. She was still seated on the edge with him wedged between her legs.

He coiled his arm around her waist and rested his forehead against her collarbone. She ran her fingernails through his hair, holding him there, relishing the feel of being curled around him so thoroughly, and also wondering how she was ever going to be able to let him go.

Luckily, he wasn’t done with her yet. After another steamy bath in which no inch of her body went unexplored, followed by a romp in the sack and another orgasm out on the deck with the sun beating down on them, they finally found a point of satiation.

She found herself enjoying a nearly boneless state of bliss back in the big bed, relaxing with Phoenix snuggling up to her, demanding to be petted. Obligingly, she scratched between her two saucer-like ears. Cats weren’t the only mammals that purred when they were happy. Raccoons, for one, and mongooses. Badgers, foxes, even bears, as unbelievable as that was. Imagine a bear purring with demented glee before it swiped your head from your neck with its big meaty paw.

Phoenix made a strange, disturbing, rattling sound in the back of her throat, unlike a snake’s rattle. This was deeper, more resonating…a sound one would expect from an animal three times her size. Jessie wondered if the species had evolved to sound bigger and badder than it was out of necessity—they did reside on a planet of dragons, after all—or if they were truly as dangerous as Orik claimed.

She snuggled Phoenix and addressed her using baby talk. “You’re not so scary. I’ll bet you aren’t even dangerous, are you? You’re just too cute. Who’s mama’s little cutie?”

In response, Phoenix nudged her head against Jessie’s hand, demanding more petting. Orik stood in the doorway, arms crossed, gazing at her as though she’d lost her ever-loving mind, yet the corners of his mouth kept twitching, like he was trying to hold back a laugh. He was dressed once more in his guard uniform, handsome as ever with his broad shoulders, clean-cut appearance, and austere jaw. It made her want to go over there and muss his hair, pull him down for a mind-scrambling kiss, and pop a few buttons off that shirt. Maybe with her teeth.

“Doona be looking at me like that, else I’ll never leave this room.”

She smiled. “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” She feared the moment he stepped out, whatever spell was brewing between them would be broken. Perhapsspellwas not the best analogy, all things considered.

A little crease formed between his brows. She suddenly worried he’d read her thoughts, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was studying the floor, arms folded over his bulky chest.

“What is it?”

“Something’s been bothering me about your encounter in the woods. You said the witch had a scar on his face.”

She nodded. “It ran over one cheek.”

“A scar like that is rare for a witch. Normally they heal themselves with magic, erasing all evidence of any wounds they incur, even deep lacerations.”

“Huh,” was all she could say. Did he think she was lying?

“The only reason I can postulate that a witch would be unable to do so is if the wound was created by some sort of dark, infallible magic, a curse of sorts. Or…”

“Or?” she prompted.

“Or his skin was sliced by the tooth of a young dragon.”

That was a fairly specific theory. “Young? Why young?”

“Dragons can excrete venom with a bite. Adult dragons can use this venom to weaken an enemy, but we lose potency as we age. Young dragons, however, are exceedingly poisonous their first year of transformation. I’ve heard it said that a young dragon’s bite canna be healed by even the most powerful of magic, if one survives at all.”

Was this yet another evolutionary necessity? “Okay, but what does it matter how he got the scar?”

Orik’s aura suddenly flared with an ancient sorrow, and her heart ached to wipe that look of dread off his face. “What is it?” she asked.

He sat on the edge of the bed, hesitant, not looking at her. “When I was young, I sliced the face of a witch with my newly formed fangs. It was the day I transformed into a dragon for the very first time, and the day I had to fight for my life.”

30

Jessie was still reeling from Orik’s traumatic story.

She’d listened, half in shock, as he relayed the sordid details of his parents’ cruel murder, his subsequent capture, and his prolonged abuse at the hands of a group of iniquitous witches.

She mourned the trauma and pain of Orik’s lost childhood. So much terror and injustice at too young an age.

Jessie had never before felt the gripping strength of homicidal rage, but now she positively pulsed with it now. She wanted the witch who’d hurt her man to suffer, painfully and extensively. Every fiber in her being snarled for justice. Vengeance.

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