Page 70 of The Death King

Her words made my body halt, elicited such a burst of pleasure that it was almost the same intensity as a climax. My eyes burned into hers, and an overwhelming sense of possessiveness overcame me. My mouth dropped to hers, and I kissed her hard, stole her breath away with my demanding embrace. My head tilted left and then right, my tongue swiped hers, and I moaned in her mouth because the burning connection between us scorched me and turned me to ash.

I pulled my mouth away and rocked into her again, this time faster than before but at the reduced depth.

Her hands cupped my neck, and the tips of her fingers reached into my hair as she moaned louder than before, moaned like she loved it as much as she said she did. “Talon…”

About time. Khazmuda dropped his head to regard me, his wings folded into his body as he sat on the ramparts and waited for me. The torches illuminated his brilliant scales in the darkness, casting a shine that made them reflect the color of the flames.

I’m a king. I’m busy.

Not busy from doing kingly things. His large eyes were dark with accusation.

I gave him a cold stare as I approached his right flank. Thank you for respecting my privacy.

I would if that were possible. But you can’t ignore a storm, and I can’t ignore the tidal wave of emotions that you unleash.

I climbed up the bindings that secured his saddle in place and dropped into the saddle.

They are the most potent I’ve ever felt.

I ignored his words. Where do you want to go?

Bear Mountain.

It wasn’t called Bear Mountain, but that was where he found his favorite game. After you.

Khazmuda launched into the sky and used his powerful wings to take us to the cloud bank in just a few seconds. He cast such momentum, it would knock off an inexperienced rider, but I knew my dragon the way I knew my own body. Whenever he carried Calista, he treated her like a delicate pot that would roll off and break into shards, but with me, he treated me like I was an extension of his own body.

We traveled to the mountain, the snow visible along the peaks as they reflected the moonlight. The journey on foot would take two days, but on the back of a dragon, it only took minutes. We glided down to the base of the mountains, in an open clearing away from the trunks of dark trees.

I dismounted and slid down his smooth scales until my boots hit the grass. I unhooked my axe from across my back and gripped it just below the blade. I’ll make a fire.

I’ll return shortly. Khazmuda launched into the sky once again and disappeared.

I found a broken branch and cut it into logs before I pulled it together in the middle of the clearing. Once the pile was substantial, I struck a match and set the fire ablaze, the light and warmth immediately illuminating the clearing. Snow was on the ground, patches of grass visible where the snow had shifted in the wind. I constructed a spit next, placing it over the fire so we could cook the game evenly.

I sat on a log and waited, staring at the fire, no one knowing my whereabouts besides Khazmuda. The cold was unforgiving that winter, far more intense than it would have been back in my lands, but something about it dulled the wounds under the flesh, like an ice pack against a bruise. I breathed in the frost and watched it escape as vapor. Time moved slowly as I waited, and my mind drifted to all the things I’d rather not think about.

Half an hour later, Khazmuda returned, a black bear in his jaws. He dropped it on the snow-covered ground, blood staining the white.

I pulled out my knife and prepared it to be cooked.

It tastes better whole.

“Maybe to you.”

Seals in the juices.

I continued to prepare the meat. “I don’t like hair in my food.”

It gives it a nice crunch.

I continued my work until it was prepared, and then I put the meat on the skewer and watched it cook right over the flames. I returned to the log where I’d sat before and took a seat, observing the juices drip onto the flames and make them hiss.

Khazmuda lay flat on his stomach across from me, the only way our eyes could be level with each other. His dark eyes were on the fire, watching the meat sizzle and cook. Then his gaze shifted to me. You’re troubled.

“I’m hungry, and it’s cold as fuck.”

You don’t mind the cold.