control. He’d seen what the Heat had driven other dragons to do in their need to rut. He would not allow himself to become like that, would not subject Leyloni to it.
“The Crimson Comet is in the sky,” he said once he dared to breathe again. “The air is already thick with its power, and it is already exerting its will over me.”
“What?” she breathed, suddenly alert. She tilted her head back to look up. Wonder took over her features, and the moon’s reflection shone as a red gleam in each of her eyes—another image from his dream.
“It is real,” she said. “My people have told stories of it, but I never thought such a thing was real, much less that I would see it.” She smiled. “Though I never thought I would see a dragon, either.”
Her amazement granted Arysteon a brief respite from his discomfort and need, offering him a glimpse of how that comet—the very thing that may well have triggered the doom of dragons and humans alike—must have appeared to someone who’d never seen it before. There had to be some sort of beauty in it, that was plain enough in her expression, but he could not perceive that beauty himself. Not with the Heat having so thoroughly invaded his body.
His eyes remained fixed on her face. She was all the beauty he would ever need, all the beauty that mattered in the world. Those wide, green eyes, those soft, pink lips…
Arysteon’s stem strained in his grasp, and he shuddered.
She looked back down at Arysteon, her wonder reverting to concern. “What is it doing to you?”
“It is…making me need.”
Leyloni searched his eyes for a moment before glancing over her shoulder. Arysteon followed her gaze with his own, settling it on Serek, who was sleeping soundly in the little nest Leyloni had made for him earlier despite her exhaustion. When she faced Arysteon again, the corners of her lips were upturned.
“What do you need?” She slowly slid the hand on his chest down his abdomen.
His scales tingled beneath her touch, giving him another taste of sweet agony. He made no attempt to stifle his groan. “You, Leyloni, my heartsong. All of you.”
Smile widening, she pressed her lips to his shoulder. Her fingers circled his stem just above his own. Her hand was small, delicate, and soft compared to his, but her grip was firm and confident. Fire pooled in his loins, and Arysteon dropped his free hand to the ground, clutching the blanket beneath him. His shaft pulsed, leaking seed from its tip.
Leyloni used her thumb to swipe away the moisture before stroking downward, forcing Arysteon’s hand to fall away. “I am no longer bleeding, Arysteon. If you need me, I am yours to take.”
Arysteon gritted his teeth as another violent shudder, ignited by her touch and amplified by her words, wracked him.
She is mine.
He caught her wrist to halt the motion of her hand. The sensation in his stem pitched toward outright pain rather than a pleasurable blend, and his lips peeled back in a snarl. He needed her touch, yes, but he needed to be inside her more than anything. He needed to feel the soft, slick heat of her sex wrapped around him.
He needed to assuage the comet’s heat by taking freely of Leyloni’s.
Tugging her hand away from his shaft, he rolled over, forcing Leyloni onto her back and propping himself over her with his hips between her thighs. She spread them wide, and he settled into the cradle of her legs. His stem lay along her wet, welcoming heat.
Battling the inferno of his desire—which demanded he take her now, fast, hard, and without mercy—Arysteon took both of her hands in his and twined their fingers together. He guided her hands to either side of her head and stared down at her.
The crimson light remained in her eyes, enhancing the hunger he’d spied in her gaze so often as of late. He released a growl and lowered his head, nuzzling the spot between her neck and shoulder, breathing in her sweet scent, tasting her flesh with his tongue. Leyloni’s breath hitched, and she tilted her head to grant him more access.
Her taste and smell only further stoked the flames inside him. His heart constricted, and his ragged breaths came short. The comet’s power was primal, unforgiving, and single-minded. It cared not about Leyloni’s wellbeing, only about rutting.
“I do not want to harm you, Leyloni,” he rumbled against her skin.
“You will not.”
“You do not know that.”