Just one touch.
Then she’d finish him.
When Hadrian’s fingertips slid into the warm wet heat of her, Rania knew she’d never felt anything better. She arched her back and gasped. He stole a kiss and she parted her legs, unwilling to deny herself the pleasure he offered. His fingers were gentle and strong, just like him, and he caressed her with a surety that brought her blood to a boil.
Just a little bit more. Just a little indulgence...
“You have told me a lot,” he agreed in a whisper, his lips against her ear. Rania shivered with pleasure. “Maybe you need to confess your secrets.”
“Or maybe I’m beguiled.” The possibility was a reminder that made Rania pull away slightly.
Hadrian shook his head emphatically. “I’m not beguiling you.”
“As if I would believe you.”
“You should. It’s true. There would be flames in my eyes if I was beguiling.”
Rania looked. There were no flames. Was he telling the truth?
He nodded as if he’d guessed her thoughts. “I am. What if we make a deal?” he suggested, his gaze hot. “What if we satisfy the firestorm before you kill me? I’ll make it worth your while.”
Rania stared at him in astonishment. “You want me to have your son?”
Hadrian nodded, resolute. “You’re making thirteen assassinations to free your brothers. Although I don’t love your choice, I can respect your loyalty to your family. I think we have similar ideas about defending what’s important.”
“And what’s important to you is the firestorm?”
“Right.” He grinned at her. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to have a son. How could I turn my back on that? It’s a legacy.”
“Nothing says you have to fulfill it.”
“But I should. It’s an obligation and an opportunity.”
“It doesn’t sound like much of an opportunity to me.”
“But what if we made that deal? What if we surrendered to the firestorm, and then I made it easy for you to kill me?”
Rania couldn’t believe it but Hadrian was serious.
“You’d let your assassin have your son?”
He chuckled. “I’d let my destined mate have my son.”
Rania opened her mouth to argue but Hadrian captured her mouth with his, slowly and decisively, and she forgot whatever she was going to say. He was going to win his argument with sensation and she couldn’t think of a reason to protest. She already guessed that it would be great. There was something deeply satisfying about his obvious desire. It made her aware of every pleasure she’d denied herself during these centuries in Maeve’s service.
It made her consider his suggestion.
Even, potentially, at the price of bringing a Pyr son into the world.
“What do you know about the firestorm?” Hadrian whispered in her ear long moments later.
Rania was trying to catch her breath and gather her thoughts, without success on either front. “As much as I need to,” she replied. “I’m not going to have a Pyr son.”
Hadrian smiled with that dragon confidence that made her want to get naked with him. “I might convince you.”
“Good luck,” she replied, her heart leaping at the possibility.
“I like a challenge.” His lashes swept down and he smiled, the combination making him look mysterious and potent. “Maybe you’ll find me persuasive,” he said so softly that his words were a rumble she felt against her chest.
Maybe she would.
He bent and kissed her ear again, his fingers working their magic against her. His breath gave her shivers. His touch made her gasp. Rania didn’t know whether she’d be able to stop their embrace. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to. Her leg was already locking around his, as if her body had a will of its own, and she was breathless as she stared into his eyes. They were so green. His mouth was so firm. He was taking his time, tormenting her with temptation, willing her to agree.
Rania could have disappeared.
She could have shifted shape.
But being the woman Hadrian was determined to seduce suited her just fine.
What if she made love to him—or let him make love to her? It might be kind to let him satisfy the firestorm as his last living act.
Although kindness had never been on her agenda before.
She was hesitating again, doubting her path, which wasn’t like her at all. Maybe this firestorm was changing her somehow.
Maybe a certain dragon shifter was.
Hadrian brushed his mouth across hers again, a caress as gentle as the touch of butterfly wings, and Rania didn’t want to think about anything anymore.
Strategically, sex might lead to a weak moment, one in which she could easily overwhelm this powerful dragon shifter.
Nothing said they had to complete the act. She just needed to catch him by surprise.
When Hadrian leaned closer, eyes gleaming, she reached to meet him halfway. She sighed with satisfaction when he slanted his mouth over hers, claiming her with his touch, then speared her fingers into his hair, drawing him closer.
This might be his last hour. She should make sure it was worth dying for.
Hadrian didn’t trust his mate one bit—but he was enchanted by her. He was sure that she was welcoming his touch because she meant to trick him, but the insistent burn of the firestorm made it impossible to turn away from her. The firestorm fed his need for her and drove all coherent thought from his mind. When she welcomed him and kissed him back, there was nothing else in the world but his perfect destined mate.
Even though he didn’t know her name.
Even though she was an assassin for the Fae, obligated to kill him.
Hadrian chose to believe in the promise of the firestorm.
She was so sweet, her lips so soft, her enthusiasm so unexpected. She opened her mouth to him and touched her tongue to his, driving him wild. She was tentative, as if she was more accustomed to fighting than loving, but Hadrian was more than ready to guide her on this new path. Her hand was locked in his hair, drawing him closer in silent demand.
Okay, she was direct. That was best of all.
He heard a door close and knew that Alasdair and Balthasar had left the lair. He didn’t actually care whether they overheard, but his mate might prefer the privacy.
Her confession, that she served Maeve’s will to free her brothers, proved they had traits in common. Hadrian would have done anything for his fellow Pyr, and he had to admit that might include assassination if there was no other choice. He knew that when Maeve had compelled him to dance, he would have promised anything to end his own agony.
His mate was trapped in a bad situation. That didn’t make her a bad person.
She was wearing black, like a burglar, tights and a hoodie, boots and a long-sleeved T-shirt that hugged her curves. He could feel her lithe strength when he ran his hands over her and he liked how responsive she was to his touch. That was another sign that this partnership was destined to be, and that the firestorm had chosen correctly for him.
And she was beautiful. It was easy to remember the glorious shine of her feathers, the grace she possessed in flight, how alluring she was in either form.
He braced himself over her, kissing her thoroughly as he undid the zipper of her sweatshirt. He pushed it off, tugging her shirt and bra after it, then bent to take one rosy nipple in his mouth. There was an old healed scar on her midriff, but he didn’t want to talk about the past. She wore a ring on a chain around her neck, a ring big enough to have been a man’s. The stone glowed, the way some opals or moonstones did. Hadrian didn’t study it, since he had better things to do. He did wonder then whether she had another romantic commitment or a relationship that hadn’t worked out.