Page 92 of The Dragon Queen

My fingers continued to glide through his hair before I drew his face to mine, bringing our foreheads together. “It’s okay.”

He stayed that way for a long time, my body still pinned underneath him, his dick still hard inside me like no amount of emotion turmoil could tame his physical need for me. He seemed to release the breath he was holding and kissed me, a soft and quick embrace before he pulled away and yanked his shirt over his head.

I saw it, the black burns all over his chest, like smoke painted onto the skin, the faint outline of a large hand in the center that was far bigger than any normal man’s. The damage was extensive, layer upon layer, the scars so severe that no amount of time would make them fade.

I stared, feeling the rage burn underneath my eyes and melt the tears from my eyes. It took only a second to understand why the scars were there. Bahamut tried to rip his soul from his body—but Khazmuda fought him from the other side.

The result was the most painful scars I’d ever seen.

I felt him watch my reaction and shifted my gaze to him. “It’s okay.” I’d carried the same kinds of scars, the kinds that no one could see but Talon because I told him they were there. He never desired me less. He never loved me less. To him, they’d never happened at all. And I felt the same way about the scars that would mark his body for the rest of time. “It’s okay.” One arm pulled him to me while my other hand flattened against his chest, expecting to feel the heat of the flames that caused this, but I felt nothing but his strong heartbeat underneath the skin and muscle.

I moved a hand to cup his face and brought his lips to mine, giving him a kiss as passionate as the one he gave me, tasting myself on his mouth, showing him that my love and desire hadn’t changed because of the horror engraved on his chest.

It took him a moment to come back to me, to burn with the flames that I used to engulf him. But he did, his kiss matching my intensity, his hips starting to move again, his hand finding its way back into my hair once more.

Then we moved together like nothing had changed, like we hadn’t been separated, like a demon hadn’t marred his beautiful body, like everything was exactly as it should be. “I love you.”

He pulled his face slightly away so our eyes could meet. “And I you, baby.”

Chapter 27

Talon

I spent the week with Calista in the tree house. After that initial conversation at the dining table, we said very little to each other. Our bodies became reacquainted and the fire unleashed. With every passing day, it felt more normal, the pain of my conversation with Vivian fading further and further.

I did my best to embrace happiness—and so far, it had worked.

It was the first time in the last twenty years that I had no agenda. The battle had been fought and won, and therefore, I had no purpose. Anger and seething revenge no longer fueled my movements.

Since I’d been so occupied with Calista for the week, I returned to Khazmuda in the clearing where I last saw him, knowing he was desperate for my attention but too kind to say it. Knowing I was happy with Calista made him happy.

When I approached the clearing, he opened his eyes and lifted his chin to look at me. He had no expressions to show his emotion, but the joy he felt at the sight of me absorbed into my flesh.

He lowered his snout when I came close and nuzzled me with the smooth part of his scales, the closest thing to a hug he could offer.

I rubbed my palm over his scales. “I missed you.”

I missed you more, Talon Rothschild.

I stepped away and felt the smirk enter my lips. “Don’t you think it’s time we drop the last name?”

Not when you’re King Talon Rothschild, King of the Southern Isles.

My smile disappeared. “I’m not King of the Southern Isles…”

It’s not a democracy, Talon. It’s your birthright. It’s time to return and lead your people to prosperity.

“I haven’t thought about any of that.”

Then it’s time you start.

I took a seat on the log near the cold campfire, wearing the trousers and shirt supplied to me. I didn’t want to wear my old clothes, not when the threat of battle was long gone. “I don’t know what I want, Khazmuda.”

Have you spoken to Calista about it?

“We haven’t spoken much of anything…”

Yes…I’ve noticed.