He had been afraid. What a horrendous emotion. He had been scared for her, and the room smelled like ash and the whole area looked devastated. Aggression and tenderness fought for supremacy, and tenderness won.
He ran his hands down her body, rock hard and aching for her. He knew this hunger for her would never ease, never die away. “You are never going to get trapped in a magical forest fire again,” he growled against her lips. “Do you hear me, Pia? That flight took millennia off my life.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It won’t happen again.”
“Goddamn right it won’t,” he said between his teeth.
Gaeleval was a dead man walking; he just didn’t know it yet. Dragos would find and stop him because he wouldn’t allow the kind of destruction that had come before. But he was going to rip Gaeleval limb to limb because the Elf had put Pia in danger and because he had dared to try to take her.
She threaded slender fingers through his hair as she kissed him, and he bent to pick her up and carry her to the bed. Then he laid her on top of the covers and came down on her, and he covered her body with his. In a move that was as natural as breathing, she wrapped her long, fabulous legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She held him with her whole body, and he was home.
Home. It was a concept to which he had never given much thought. Self-contained and solitary by nature, his home had always been within himself, but not any longer.
“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth.
He lifted his head to look at her. She smiled at him, golden-skinned in the firelight, her eyes as rich as sapphires. He laid his fingertips along the exquisite, delicate curve of her cheekbone.
The dragon came to a realization and was amazed. In the unending years of his acquisitive existence, despite all his hoarding of the treasures of kingdoms and emperors, he had never been rich before this. She had come into his life to steal from him, and in the process she had given him everything she had.
“I love you,” he said.
TWELVE
As he spoke the words her gaze flared, and her lips trembled. For one split second he stared at her, utterly mystified. She had never seemed to mind before that he hadn’t said the words.
She couldn’t be upset that he had said them now, could she? Fucking hell, he was no good at this romance shit.
In the next moment he realized that mirth filled her eyes, not sadness.
He growled, “What.”
She told him, her voice trembling with laughter, “You just sounded so surprised when you said it.”
He took a slow, deep breath and let it out gently. “I am,” he said.
He kissed her again, savoring the light play of her lips before deepening it to explore the lavish intimacy of her mouth. She groaned and rotated her hips so that his cock pressed against her pelvis. They rocked together, fully clothed, both remembering how it was to be together and promising each other more. His hunger spiked higher, and he palmed one of her breasts.
She pulled back slightly to mutter something, her warm breath against his cheek. He had no idea what she said but it sounded urgent and sexy. Then she kissed him hard, and her eager, feminine aggression caused everything within him to glow hotter than the forest fire and brighter than a newly minted coin.
“Take it off,” he whispered.
She knew what he meant and removed the dampening spell that cloaked her body’s natural luminescence.
She was simply dazzling. She was his beacon to what others called decency, not because she told him how to act but because she made him want to try.
They shouldn’t be doing this. They didn’t have time. But he slipped one hand under her sweater anyway to tease at her nipple, rolling the soft, delicate jutting flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes glazed with passion, she thrust up with her hips and he hissed as the friction drove him out of his mind crazy. . . .
A sharp rap sounded at the door, and he snarled as he lifted his head.
Pia grabbed him by the ears. It startled him enough to make him pause.
Their eyes met.
She said, “Count to ten.”
Hm, he had heard of that technique before. One, two, three . . .
She called out, “Yes, what is it?”
Eva’s voice sounded through the door panel. “The High Lord requests that Dragos attend him downstairs. I guess those Elves that were spelled aren’t doing so well.”
He expelled a breath between his teeth. It sounded like steam hissing in a kettle. “I got to ten,” he told her. “It didn’t help. Stay here and follow your own advice. Eat something and rest.” He raised his voice. “I’m coming.”
He rolled away from her, careful to avoid putting any real weight on her abdomen, then stood and strode out of the bedroom.
Eva stood just on the other side of the door. She gestured to the unit’s magic user, who waited across the room by the hall entrance. “Miguel knows where to go. He’ll show you where they are being held.”