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.
Rania moved, and the stars exploded, and there was nothing but his mate in Hadrian’s universe.
The firestorm was satisfied, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t do it again and again.
“You should have kept reading,” a man drawled as Hadrian left the bedroom at first light.
Hadrian shimmered on the cusp of change immediately, the brilliant shimmer of blue lighting the early morning air, and was glad Rania was behind him. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised that she was poised to fight, too. No doubt she’d already pulled her bichuwa.
She was going to be one fierce mother to their son.