Zaydon
"Did that… actually happen, boy?" Shade's voice echoed in my head, thick with disbelief.
"It did?" I muttered, though doubt gnawed at me like a fucking parasite. Even with reality staring me in the face, in the form of a flushed, heavily breathing Azalea, and my own head and hair still wet, part of me still couldn't believe it.
Had it really happened?
And yet… the taste on my tongue said otherwise.
It was her that I could still taste, and I wouldn't be forgetting that taste any time soon.
Fuck.
From here on out, my restraint was going to be torn to pieces. Because right now? All I wanted was more.
But looking at her, trembling, flushed, struggling to catch her breath, I knew she hadn't come down yet. She wasn't ready.
Not yet.
But this was a start.
She was letting me in. And there wasn't hate in her eyes this time. No fury. No venom.
Just satisfaction.
And fuck me, I might've seen something worse. Something way more dangerous.
Longing. Affection.
Fuck. That cursed feeling was stirring in my chest. Hope. And that shit? That was far more lethal than any sword, fang or claw I ever faced in battle.
Then a sound ripped from her.
A laugh.
I nearly jumped.
It was raw. Real. A genuine laugh. Not bitter. Not mocking. Just her.
A sound I hadn't heard in more than seven fucking years.
And gods, I wanted to hear it again.
"Laughing after what we just did isn't a great sign, boy," Shade drawled, amused. "Maybe you're not as good as you thought. Perhaps next time, you should let me take over and restore our honor."
I scoffed and flipped him off in my head. "No fucking way. I tasted and swallowed the results of my effor."
I swallowed, then licked my bottom lip, chasing the last remnants of her—just to drive the point home.
Silence.
I grinned. Gotcha, lizard.
Turning back to her, I kept my voice casual. "What's so funny?"
She was still catching her breath from laughing, her face lit up with something I hadn't seen in years—pure fucking joy.
And I had to fight the intense urge to lean in and kiss her.
That smile was wide, radiant. The spark in her eyes, the one I thought I'd snuffed out, was back. Burning bright.
"Gods, she's beautiful," Shade and I said at once. The words echoed in my skull like a damn truth bomb.
She tilted her head. "You… you have a flower behind your ear."
My hand flew up, brushing against the soft petals. Jasmine. Warm from the bath and her touch.
It felt like her skin—silky against my rough hands.
I gave her my best grin.
"Well," I said, leaning back just a little, letting the moment breathe, "if it makes you laugh like that, I might just keep it there forever."
She burst out laughing again, harder this time. The sound bounced off the walls and straight into my fucking chest like a punch I didn't want to dodge.
Please, I thought, never stop laughing like that, Az.
A silent fucking plea—to her, to the gods, to whoever would listen.
Don't let me be the reason that laugh ever fades again.
"Forever?" she smirked, lifting an eyebrow. "Great. Now I'm stuck with a walking flower pot instead of a dragon."
She didn't even notice the damn blossoms tangled in her own hair from the bath—petals clinging to her like the world itself didn't want to let go of her.
Fuck, she was stunning.
And I laughed too.
Because for a fleeting, perfect moment… it felt like before.
Before I fucked it all up.
My eyes found hers again, and I saw it. Her smile faltered just slightly. That flicker of sadness, buried beneath the happiness from only moments ago.
And fuck, it gutted me.
I wondered if she missed this version of us as much as I did.
I wanted to ask. Wanted to bring it up, dig into everything we'd buried between us. But not now. She'd already been upset earlier, for reasons we hadn't even touched.
And I couldn't be the one to steal her smile away again. Not tonight.
Not when it had been so godsdamned long since I'd seen emotions in her that weren't soaked in venom or rage.
Like with the gryphon.
Her anger had melted away back then. And in its place, those eyes had been filled with that same pleading, playful want I'd missed more than I'd ever admit.
I'd been so fucking desperate to hold onto that happiness that I agreed to stay longer just so she could have the creature. So she could feel even a sliver of joy again.
But that had been the point of all this, hadn't it?
To give her a break. To let her breathe. To let her forget—just for a heartbeat—the crushing weight of her title, what the vampire prince did to her, the fury she clings to like armor, and the pain she buries so deep it bleeds into everything even when she tried to hide it. Even just for a moment.
If I was being honest with myself, I just wanted to let her be... my Az again. I missed her.
I stood and grabbed the towel from where I'd left it nearby.
"Come on, Princess," I said with a soft smile, opening it wide. "Time to get out of there before you turn into a raisin."
She didn't argue.
That surprised me. Again. She always fought me, always snapped back with a bite. But after I'd told her firmly to go take a bath earlier, something had shifted.
She'd listened.
And now, as she looked at me with no sass, no resistance, there was something different in her posture. In her eyes.
Something... compliant.
No. More than that.
She needed this. The care. The calm. The softness.
Fuck, I'd go as far as to say she was craving it.
I watched her when I could, subtle and careful, as I gently dried her.
I tried to keep it methodical. Respectful.
I needed to.
Because gods, I wanted to do this more for her. She'd never let me before. And now, with her letting me in, letting me touch her like this... I wanted to savor it. Indulge where I could.
But I couldn't let it show.
Couldn't look eager. Couldn't look desperate.
So, I kept my movements slow. Steady.
I ran the towel through her hair first, careful not to tug. Then down the delicate line of her neck, over the curve of her ear, and slowly—achingly slowly—over her mark. My fingers skimmed across her shoulder, the towel catching every bead of water clinging to her warm skin.
The fabric glided over her like a whisper, soft against the contrast of my rough hands. I moved lower, trailing the towel down her back, following the dip of her spine. Then I sank to one knee, my face level with her stomach.
I heard her audibly swallow.
"She wants us," Shade rumbled, his voice thick with satisfaction.
I hummed under my breath, agreeing.
But I wouldn't do anything she didn't ask for.
Not tonight. Not unless she gave me that permission.
I ran the towel over the curve of her ass and closed my eyes, forcing my hands lower—to her thighs, her calves. Anywhere else. Anywhere but the place I ached to be again.
Because all I wanted was to grip that perfect ass, spread her open, and have my mouth on her again. Devouring her. Tasting every inch of her until she came undone like she had earlier—beautiful, wild, fucking mine.
I opened my eyes and focused on her feet, grounding myself.
Bringing the towel around, I moved to her front.
"Lift your foot. Use my shoulder for balance if you need," I said, voice hoarse and close to cracking.
She lifted her right foot, and I dried it gently—careful between her toes, knowing they'd be sensitive. I placed it down, repeated the motion with the other.
Then I moved up the front of her legs, toward her inner thigh.
My throat tightened. My jaw clenched.
Fuck.
This time, I swallowed audibly. I could do this and stay in control…I think.
"You're a damn masochist, boy," Shade groaned, his own voice gravel-edged and strained.
And maybe he wasn't wrong.
I licked my bottom lip as I ran the towel between her legs, higher—closer—to the apex of her thighs. Right near her pussy.
She trembled.
And I had to swallow the groan crawling up my throat.
My hands started to shake from the sheer force of control it took not to give in. Not to grab her, drop to both my knees, and worship her again like I fucking needed to.
Instead, I closed my eyes, forced down the fire rolling through my blood, and rested my forehead against her soft, slightly rounded belly.
Gods, her skin was warm. Silken. Real.
I moved my hand carefully, gently, quickly—drying her as respectfully as I could. A whisper of a touch. Nothing more.
When it was done, I shifted the towel to her hips, letting the soft fabric glide over the dips of them. I followed the curves where bone met skin, then moved slowly upward across the smooth expanse of her stomach. My eyes were open again, locked on my hands. I forced my gaze to stay level. Focused.
Her skin was warm beneath the towel. Silken. Soft like moonlight over still water, but carrying a heat that bled into my palms like a slow burn.
"You got some kind of saint in you I don't know about, or was I right earlier?" Shade groaned in my head, voice gravelly and strained, like even he didn't know how I was holding back.
I didn't answer him. Didn't have the breath- not even in my own mind.
My hands slid up the beautiful curve of her waist, every inch of movement deliberate. Controlled. I guided the towel higher, tracing the soft valley beneath her breasts.
Her breath hitched.
I felt it—in the rise of her chest, in the tremble beneath my fingertips. The way her nipples tightened, reacting to the brush of air—or maybe to me.
I stood fully then, my head bowed, eyes locked on hers. My mouth hovered dangerously close to hers.
And still, I kept going.
I ran the towel over the swell of her breasts, slow and careful. Then, over her nipples, barely a whisper of contact. I had no doubt they were sensitive as hell right now.
So fucking beautiful.
My dick throbbed, hard and painfully in my pants, reminding me just how deep into this hell I was willingly dragging myself. Denying not one, but two releases just for the chance to keep touching her like this.
To care for her.
Not out of expectation. Never that.
What she gave me earlier was already more than enough. I'd turn my balls blue if it meant I could keep doing this—with her permission, on her terms.
She didn't look away.
Gods, she didn't fucking look away.
Her cheeks were flushed, that soft red creeping up the curve of her ears. Her full lips trembled, slightly parted, like she was considering something. Deciding something that I wanted to do so badly.
She knew. One word, one look, and I'd kiss her.
But not before.
Not until she wanted it. Not until she was ready for it.
I didn't move. Didn't break that fragile thread between us. Not even as I gently wrapped the towel around her shoulders and let her pinch it closed with those long, slender fingers.
She swallowed. Once. Then again.
And finally, she spoke.
"I should get dressed."
I nodded, a small thread of disappointment and acceptance tugging in my chest. "You should."
But she didn't step back. Not right away.
She stood there, caught in some silent war with herself. Her eyes flickered—uncertain, lingering—and then she let out a shaky breath and stepped away.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, trying to stay in control. A thin wisp of smoke curled from my mouth, proof of just how close I was to slipping.
I hadn't lost control of my demi-form since I was a teenager. But right now?
My dragon side was clawing just beneath the surface, just as desperate for her as the rest of me.
If she noticed, she didn't say a word.
I watched every step she took as she left the bathroom. Every flick of her damp hair. The way the warmth she'd left behind seemed to vanish from the air the moment she was gone.
I stood there for a moment, rooted in the absence of her.
Then I drained the tub and stepped into a cold bath of my own. Washed myself quick but thorough.
Gods, it sucked ass.
Without my dragon blood keeping me warm, that bath would've felt a hell of a lot more like hypothermia. Even now, the chill tried to crawl beneath my skin, battling the fire in my veins.
Once I was done, I pulled on a fresh pair of linen sleep pants and stepped back into the room.
She was curled up on one of the beds closest to the fireplace, she made herself appear small and still and wrapped in a blanket that looked too damn thin for the weather.
Outside, frost had already claimed the windowpanes.
It was definitely going to snow tonight.
I frowned, eyes moving to the blanket tucked around her.
Would it be enough?
"Princess?" I asked softly, brow furrowing. "Are you warm enough?"
She nodded—but her body trembled.
I sighed. Still stubborn. Even after everything we'd just shared. I bit down the sarcastic comment burning on my tongue and said nothing.
Instead, I walked over, lifted her blanket, and crawled into the bed beside her without asking.
The tiny squeak she let out? Fuck, it was so damn cute I almost laughed.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her tone all protest and no heat.
"Keeping you warm," I replied simply.
She turned to face me, and my breath hitched.
She looked… hesitant. A little uncertain. But not angry. Not annoyed. A soft smile tugged at her lips—amused and unguarded.
And gods, I had no fucking idea what I did to deserve that look, but I wasn't about to question it.
"You sure you want to keep me warm?" she asked, playful and teasing.
"Of course, Princess," I said, my voice dipping low, rough. "Like I said—it's a pleasure to serve you… in any capacity."
Her face flushed a deep red, but she ensured her revenge was swift.
She slapped her ice-cold hands right on my bare chest— and they felt like fucking ice blocks.
Both Shade and I hissed in unison.
"Woman, you're cold," I growled, my whole body locking up like I'd been smacked with a glacier.
And her smirk only grew to my horror.
Because next came the real assault—her cold-ass, frost-outside feet. She shifted with full intent to torment me further, folding her entire body just to make sure they were pressed flat against my abdomen.
"By all the old gods—why?!" I groaned, instinctively grabbing her ankles and yanking them down, dragging those frostbitten weapons away from my skin like my life depended on it.
I could still feel the shape of her damn feet stamped onto me. My body was practically steaming—like someone had tossed ice blocks onto a red-hot pan.
"You a secret winter nymph?" I grumbled as I flipped her around and pulled her into me, spooning her from behind.
My arm slid around the front of her body, pulling her tight and pinning her arms to her chest. Mostly to keep those damn ice blocks from touching me again.
"No," she murmured, a sly tilt in her voice, "but I'll be sure to file a request to join their ranks since I clearly meet the requirements."
She didn't resist. Not even a little.
If anything, she shifted closer. Melted deeper into the hold until her hips settled perfectly against mine. Her bare skin slid against me like silk warmed by flame. One leg slipped forward, bending just enough for me to nestle mine between hers.
I adjusted without thinking, letting her body find its place. Against me. With me.
My arm dropped lower, wrapping snug around her waist, letting her feel every inch of my chest pressed into her back. Letting her draw in the heat I knew she needed.
Her head lifted slightly, and I slid my other arm beneath it, tucking her in. Her breath ghosted across the underside of my forearm, warm and steady.
I couldn't resist it and dipped my head and inhaled.
Fuck.
She always smelled so damn good. Not just the jasmine and chamomile from her bath, though that clung to her skin in soft waves. But her. Earthy, wild, and elegant all at once. Like the moment before rainfall in the forest—clean, grounding, intoxicating.
She smelled like herself. Like my Azalea.
"You're not being creepy and sniffing me right now, are you?" she asked softly, amusement wrapped around every syllable.
I smirked, letting my nose press into her hair. The strands, still damp, clung to my skin like silk threads.
"Not my fault you're named after a flower, Az."
It slipped out before I could catch it.
Her nickname from then. That name that reminded her of it all.
Instantly, I felt her go still.
So did I.
Her back tensed against me, her body stiffening like she was about to snap.
Fuck.
I waited for it—for her to shove me off, close in, freeze me out. The same routine. The same invisible shut door in my face.
But this time… it didn't come.
"Zaydon…" she said, softly.
I shut my eyes, my name on her lips hitting me like a fucking blade, and my arm instinctively tightened around her stomach. Bracing for the push. For the rejection.
I shut my eyes—my name on her lips hit like a fucking blade, and the fragile hope already cracking in my chest shattered further.
My arm instinctively tightened around her waist, bracing for the push I knew was coming. For the rejection crawling like ice up my spine.
But instead… she moved her hand, stretching it out.
Her fingers, long and graceful and steady, slid down the length of my forearm where it rested beneath her head. Fingernails traced soft, rhythmic lines back and forth. Light as breath. Calming and grounding, like she wasn't pushing me away at all… but holding on.
"What is happening right now?" Shade asked in my head, quiet and almost stunned. For once, he beat me to the thought.
She kept tracing those light, steady lines down my forearm… until my breathing evened out. Until the tension slowly bled from my shoulders. Until I stopped bracing like she'd turn to fire in my arms.
Ironic, really—a dragon afraid of fire.
But hers was the only kind that could hurt me.
The only fire that could destroy me.
Only when I seemed less tense did she speak, soft and tentative. "Why, Zaydon?"
It wasn't much. Just two words. But I knew exactly what she meant.
Why did I do it?
Why take the Dragon's Bond?
Her voice didn't accuse. It didn't push. It just... asked.
And fuck me, I wanted to give her the whole truth.
But I couldn't. Not all of it. Not with the way the spell coiled around my ribs, ready to rip the truth from my throat the moment I tried.
Still, I owed her something. I had made her a promise. To be better for her. To do better by her. To be honest where I could. To give her what she deserved.
So I swallowed, cleared my throat, and gave her the only piece I was allowed.