Chapter 12

CERION

Kira protested, pounding her fists against my back as I carried her to our room. I set her down on the bed, where she immediately started cursing at me.

“Enough, Princess!” I commanded, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her again. She slapped me hard across the face, leaving me stunned and confused.

I gazed into her eyes, feeling a surge of electricity run down my spine. My entire body felt like it was on fire, and I knew my eyes must have reflected that intensity.

I traced my hand from her cheek down to her stomach, my fingers dancing lightly over her clothes and kissed her again.

She squirmed beneath me, caught up in our kiss, her desire matching my own. My fingers skimmed over her leather bottoms, finding her most sensitive spots even through the fabric.

The sensation made her arch her back, a loud moan escaping her lips. I continued to nibble on her lower lip, our passion building with each passing second.

~Fuck, that’s enough~! I scolded myself, reluctantly breaking our kiss. It was the right thing to do, even if every fiber of my being screamed otherwise.

But the fire that coursed through my body seemed to have ignited in her as well, her eyes wild with desire as they met mine. We lost ourselves in each other’s gaze for a moment before she inched closer, pressing her lips to mine once more.

She climbed onto my lap, her body flush against mine as I kissed her neck softly. Gentle moans escaped her as my fingers traced patterns across her clothing, from her breast to her most sensitive area.

I could feel the dampness beneath her clothes, a testament to her longing and desire. I reached for her hand, wanting to guide it to my throbbing erection, but stopped myself at the last second.

Reality crashed over me like a cold wave, making me realize how consumed I’d become by lust. It was nearly impossible not to want her, especially after she finally decided to want me back.

But as realization dawned on both of us, we quickly separated, our hands and lips retreating from each other’s bodies.

We stared at each other in silence, and I knew in that moment that this woman would be the death of me. Not the war, not my dragon, but this fragile creature in front of me.

~How ironic~.

KIRA

And just like that, it was over, almost as soon as it began. I saw the fire fade in his eyes and, in turn, the cold settled in. He planted his feet on the ground, leaving our bed, and grabbed the handle of the door swiftly, without a second look at me.

He wounded me internally as he did. How could someone make you feel wanted then deeply insignificant? A paradox. A paradox of wounds. I was wounded when he tried to touch me, fearful of his caress, and wounded when he refrained, longing for his touch.

I hated myself for it, for coveting him, for giving in to my lust. Last week I had no clue I even harbored lust, and now I embodied it.

At the very sight of him, my appetite grew, the thirst for his lips, for his rough effect, for his adoration. And I felt like I was a stranger to myself, the woman I was before I became his chosen queen. I had abandoned my innocence while I grasped for his affection.

I fell heavily against the bed, allowing my head to settle against my pillow as I studied the ceiling. I couldn’t get his face out of my brain—it was cemented there along with the rest of the memories from the last day.

I recalled him demanding I’d be his queen, produce his heirs. I remembered how he’d promised me I would enjoy sleeping with him. He gave me the chills, both good and bad. But I still couldn’t stop reliving the memories. It was etched into my brain, like sigils, refusing to erase.

I recalled his touch against my skin, my most sensitive parts, and how it ignited something inside me—a foreign feeling, the feeling of delight. But my mind continued to batter me with memories, this time old ones, that reminded me of my scars and that he’d see them too, one day.

I tried to think of ways to hide them, to allow him not to see them, but I knew my efforts would be in vain. He’d figure it out one day.

I got up, glancing at myself in the big mirror in front of me. I smoothed down my hair and my leather pants, then got to my feet.

I wasn’t going to play this hot-and-cold game with him today. He was going to see me, whether he liked it or not.

“Verion?” I called for him as I entered the hallway. I was met with his smiling, kind face.

“Yes, my queen?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, where is the king?” I croaked out, almost regretting the words as I said them.

“I think he is in his office, my queen,” he smiled. “Shall I take you there?”

“I still have a chance to change my mind,” I murmured to myself.

“Please don’t!” he whispered quickly.

I met his gaze, perplexed. What did he care if I was to meet the king at his study? He’d probably prefer it if I didn’t bother him, so he didn’t get scolded.

Verion shook his head and apologized. “I’m sorry, my queen, that was out of place, but the king is happy with you here.”

“Happy?” I scoffed.

“In his own way,” he said, then paused, gathering his words. “He does not know how to show affection, but he is quite partial to you.”

“Partial?” I chuckled now. “In his every waking moment, he tries to avoid me; he’s rather cold, has the potential to become cruel at any moment, and chooses to go to war rather than spend time with me.”

“It’s in his nature, my queen. He was raised to be a warlord, to enjoy violence. His father and mother’s relationship was strained, and he was taught that that was how it should be between a king and a queen.”

“But in all of my time here, watching him grow, seeing his conquests, the partners he has, um…chosen, he is most taken with you and chooses to spend a considerable amount of time courting you.” He stuttered as he spoke, but a smile reached his lips just the same.

“You know, Verion, I don’t know a single thing about courting, because my father refused any suitors I had. But I do not believe what the king is doing is considered courting. I haven’t felt wooed, or loved, or smitten.” I cursed myself at my words, because it was a half-truth. I felt those emotions boiling inside me, just not as I hoped I would.

“The king is trying, my lady. Give him some time.”

I nodded, peering down at my feet again before I turned to him and said, “Shall we disturb the king?”

Verion laughed easily and turned toward the king’s office. “As long as you don’t quit the station of queen.”

I laughed at his comment. I couldn’t even imagine refusing to be the queen any longer. ~And that is what scares me~.

“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes if you don’t mind. I just need a couple of seconds to breathe,” I told him. I needed to think rationally about what would happen next. This needed to be a discussion rather than an argument, but knowing Cerion, it would turn into an argument. He was just as stubborn as I was.

I decided to take a walk to clear my mind and wandered down the hallway. It was very different from my home in Valon. A fading scent of burned incense spread through the hallways.

Towering stone columns stretched into a high ceiling, and the walls were draped in thick red and gold tapestries depicting the dragons of the Dani Dynasty. Back home, all our best tapestries had been sold a generation ago, leaving us with nothing to keep out the draughts.

I heaved out a deep breath and turned around.

As I started my descent toward Cerion’s office, I found myself passing my father’s room. He’d been suspiciously quiet lately and had left me alone. My father was not one to be quiet or patient with me, but I counted my newfound blessings.

His door was slightly cracked open, and several voices floated from the room. As I passed, I noticed Theodora’s father alongside my father, several black-clad mercenaries, and several other finely dressed men who looked to be nobles.

Beyond their laughs and the clink of coins or metal, they spoke in whispers, shaking hands, and clinking glasses of wine together. What was my father up to this time? There was no telling with him.

The conversation battered within my mind as I continued toward Cerion’s office, but I decided that it was better to forget about it. I’d never know my father’s ambitions, and if I asked, I’d just risk further punishment. He was clearly enjoying the power, wealth, and influence that came along with our union.