“It is right,” he declared. “Now I get to kiss the bride?” His voice dropped to a wicked whisper that made her pulse leap.
“More than that. Now, we mate,” she said. “We extinguish the firestorm’s light, so it can’t reveal us when we invade Fae.”
“That’s not the only reason to satisfy the firestorm,” Hadrian said with a smile.
“No. We need to create a son, then defend the future for him.”
“I like how you think.” Hadrian lowered his voice. “Not here, though, right?”
“Not here.” She lifted a brow in warning of what she was going to do.
Her dragon took the challenge.
Hadrian held tight, just in time, then he hooted in triumph as she cast them back to his lair.
In the blink of an eye, Hadrian and Rania landed on his bed, tangled around each other. The firestorm crackled and burned, sizzling at a fever pitch, urging Hadrian to fulfill its promise. Best of all, his mate was more than onboard with the plan, given the enthusiasm of her kiss. Rania had her arms around Hadrian’s neck and locked her lips over his, kissing him with a passion that echoed his own.
This was more like it.
Hadrian rolled Rania to her back. He ran his hands over her, liking that she arched her back to meet his touch. They were picking up where they’d left off days before and this time, the firestorm would be satisfied. It was the middle of the night, a time he should have been sleeping, but the firestorm’s heat drove all other concerns from his mind.
There was only Rania, soft and sweet. Rania with her sparkling blue eyes and long fair hair, Rania with hunger in her kiss. The firestorm crackled and snapped between them, burning white hot and flooding him with need. He was hard and ready, his thoughts filled with the memory of her around him, tight and sweet and hot. He both wanted to rush and yearned to make it last, but he suspected it would be quick this time.
Rania seemed to share his sense of urgency. She rolled him to his back and straddled him, pinning his wrists to the bed over his head as she kissed him. Her kiss was so hot and demanding that he wondered whether she’d eat him alive. She was feasting on his mouth, rubbing herself against him, making him crazy with desire. Hadrian didn’t care what she did. He was content to be with her however she wanted it to be.
She slid down the length of him, releasing his wrists and unfastening his jeans with quick fingers. Her hands were on his skin then, caressing him so that he groaned aloud. He closed his eyes as she took him into her mouth and speared his fingers into her hair, losing his hands in its silken softness. He loved that she wasn’t shy and appreciated that she was as committed to pleasure as he was.
Rania tormented him, driving him to the summit, then stopping just before he found his release. Hadrian was almost incoherent when she flicked her tongue against him and halfway thought he’d come in the air.
He growled and rolled her over, knowing that wasn’t good enough. She laughed when he grabbed her waist and he realized she was ticklish. Her laughter lifted his heart. She looked young and carefree, happy as he’d never seen her, and Hadrian couldn’t resist. He tickled her until she was breathless and managed to slip off her tights and T-shirt in the progress. He took her belt, with the holster holding the bichuwa, and put it on the nightstand, surprised to find mischief in her smile when he met her gaze again.
“I promise not to go for it,” she teased and he laughed, then kissed her again.
He paused, the weight of his hand on her waist, while he eyed her scar. He’d seen the scar before but studied it more closely now. The large wound had healed a long time before, but there was still a mark on her skin. This had come from that polar bear and Hadrian was amazed that she’d survived the injury. He bent and touched his lips reverently to the end of the scar, loving that she was so strong, wishing he could have been there to help her.
She pushed her fingers into his hair. “You would have kicked his butt,” she said, her tone light.
“Both of them,” he vowed, meeting her gaze so she could see his resolve. She swallowed as if surprised by the heat of his reaction and he kissed the scar again. He moved down the length of her, sliding his hands down her legs, then noticed something he hadn’t seen before. There was a mark on her ankle, as if it had been injured as well. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes.
“I was shackled as a swan,” she said, her voice husky. “The only way to get the key and use it was to shift.”
Hadrian understood though the truth made his chest tighten in sympathy. The shackle hadn’t changed size when she did. “The pain must have been excruciating,” he said, running a fingertip over the dent in her skin. “I’m surprised the bone didn’t break.”
“It did,” she admitted. “But I ran on it anyway until I could get out of there and take flight.”
Hadrian was awed by her resolve. She was so strong, so resilient, so fearless.
His mate.
He touched his lips to her ankle, then slid his hands up the inside of her thighs. The firestorm glimmered and shone, and he closed his eyes against its brilliance, closing his mouth over her. He was determined to bring her complete pleasure so he teased her until she was breathing raggedly, her hands locked in his hair. He already knew some moves she liked and he used them all, then tried some new ones. Rania twisted beneath him. Her legs were locked around him and she was writhing against the sheets when he finally pushed her over the edge. He smiled as she came and came and came.
She tackled him immediately and they rolled to the floor together as he wiped his mouth. Then she was kissing him again, demanding more, demanding all he had to give. If she vanished on him this time, Hadrian wasn’t sure he’d be survive it.
She lifted her head and looked down at him. “You’re overdressed,” she accused, her eyes sparkling and her hair tangled. She plucked at the hem of his T-shirt and he tugged it over his head, casting it aside. She ran her hands over his shoulders and chest, tracing the outline of his dragon tattoo as she had once before, her eyes darkening.
“Will he be a dragon shifter or a swan shifter?” she whispered.
“Or both?” Hadrian asked, then shrugged. “He’ll be one kick-ass warrior, either way.”
She smiled. “Yes,” she agreed. “We’ll teach him together.”
That sounded like a deal to Hadrian. The firestorm’s light was a radiant white, as if they were trapped in a snowstorm together, or lost in the halo of her feathers. He wasn’t cold, though—his blood was simmering and he burned with need.
Rania lowered herself over him again, her hair surrounding them like a golden veil. Once again, she took him in slow increments, their gazes locked as they drove each other to the pinnacle. She bent then and framed his face in her hands, bending to kiss first one corner of his mouth and then the other. Her caress was as gentle as the touch of a feather, though it sent a surge of need through him.
“I love you,” she whispered and Hadrian knew that she wasn’t going to vanish on him again.
He grinned at her. “I love you, too,” he confessed, losing himself in her eyes. They balanced on the cusp of release, enthralled with each other. The firestorm crackled and burned, the sparks danced between them, and when he felt their hearts synchronize, Hadrian closed his eyes in ecstasy.