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I hadn’t had a chance to visit my old chamber after Segomo’s attack. I wanted to see if it still existed.
The wood and glass door slid open automatically at my magical signature. At least that hadn’t changed.
We entered the room.
My breath caught. It was just as I’d remembered—ivory white bed with blue quilt, fluffy chairs, polished floor with a rug of scarlet and blue mosaic, like the colors of my scales in a dragon form.
It was exactly the way it had been, as if I’d never left.
Someone had gone through a great deal of effort to keep it that way. Someone had wanted me home badly. A thin layer of dust on the chestnut vanity seemed recent, which meant the caretaker had only left after the king’s dragon fire had forced everyone to abandon the castle.
It meant the king, or someone, had clung to the hope that I would return one day, and that nearly brought tears to my eyes.
I let go of Iokul’s hand, moved to my bed, and climbed onto it.
As I lay on my back, the thick, soft quilt sank and reformed around my shape.
I stared at the high ceiling adorned with blue gemstones, and a tear escaped my eyes.
I was home. I was truly back, free from my curse.
Iokul lay beside me, his cool mouth tracing on the column of my neck, his ice magic caressing me. Shivers of pleasure ran down to my toes, and liquid fire pooled between my thighs.
Ice was Iokul’s element. It could cool or burn.
His one hand threaded into my hair; his other hand unbuttoned my shirt, slowly and sensually, until my breasts were fully exposed. He cupped my breast, and a deep moan rumbled in my throat. Maybe it was because of that small noise of mine that prompted Iokul, who usually preferred a slow burn, to fondle and knead my heavy breast in urgent need.
When his mouth crashed against mine, I unbuttoned his shirt and traced my palms over his cool, smooth, hard chest.
The tight muscles on his massive shoulders flexed as he shifted to press against me. His hand moved from my breast, trailing down to the apex between my thighs, leaving a shiver in its wake.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over my hard palate.
I whimpered in need as his large hand slipped into my pants, and palmed the tender flesh between my thighs, his deft fingers slipping between my folds and rubbing at the wet heat my sex produced.
My skin burned.
My blood heated.
He broke the kiss and stared down at me, lust dancing in his eyes. He always liked seeing my reactions when he played with me, and I liked to see his, too. Pure, male lust twisted his masked face. Fire and ice merged in him and I gasped against his lips as a fiery need coiled in my belly.
“Iokul,” I whispered his name, my breath rasping.
I needed him.
I wanted him.
His hand left my pussy. Before I could protest, he stripped me of my pants. When they hit on the floor, he’d undressed himself.
His large cock, silky and hard, shot upward as he stood beside the bed.
“I’d have savored you inch by inch and for hours if we were in the ship,” he said. “But here, I’ll have to fuck you fast and hard.”
My mind didn’t land on the fast but the hard part that my mate promised.
“Fuck me hard,” I breathed out. “I’m yours.”
He gripped my thighs and dragged me to the edge of the bed, his silver eyes flaring on my bare pussy. A groan—so erotic, so filled with need—rumbled in his chest. His dragon was more than excited.
