Page 34 of Full Moon
I love you.The words slide through my mind, raw and vulnerable in a way Diaval never allows himself to be.I love you more than I have loved anything in nine centuries of existence. You are my heart. My home. My reason for continuing to drawbreath.Through tears of ecstasy streaming down my cheeks, I see my other mates arrive. They watch as Diaval finishes, locked deep within me, his face buried in my neck, his body trembling with the force of his release.
Every single pulse of his transformed length sends molten heat burning in my core. Even now, still locked together, small aftershocks ripple through us both, making us gasp and shudder. He pants, his lips pressed against my shoulder as he comes back to himself. Soft kisses pepper my skin—my shoulder, my neck, the sensitive spot behind my ear. Each kiss is a prayer, a promise, a declaration of devotion. "The secrets of dragons..." he whispers next to my ear, his voice rough and tender all at once. "We can knot our mates too."
His arms tighten around me, and I feel the slight tremor in his muscles—not from exertion, but from emotion barely contained. "I wish I could give you everything," he breathes, so quiet only I can hear. "I wish this world was safe enough for the family we both want."
I turn my head, pressing a kiss to his jaw.Someday,I promise him through the bond.When this is over. When I've claimed my throne and ended whoever hunts us. Then we'll fill a nursery.The sound he makes is somewhere between a laugh and a sob, muffled against my skin.
The others stand there, staring at us with wide eyes and slack jaws.
Diaval has become extremely possessive, his arms banded like steel around my body, his face still buried in my neck as if he can't bear to let even an inch of space exist between us. We are locked together, and I lose track of how long we stay that way, our breaths mingling in the cold air. His knotpulses occasionally, sending little sparks of pleasure through my oversensitive body, and each time he holds me tighter, whispers something soft in the ancient dragon tongue against my skin. Finally, his grip shifts as he prepares to carry me, still entwined, back into the house.
"Don't look at me like that," he growls at the others, though there's no real heat in it. "You'll understand when it's your turn to knot her."
"Dragons knot?" Khal asks, his voice strangled.
"Apparently so," Torben mutters, still staring.
Diaval ignores them, crossing the threshold and heading straight for the bathroom, his steps determined despite the awkward position. The tub is slowly filling with hot water, steam curling in the air. His touch is infinitely careful as he grips my thighs, guiding us into the tub. The hot water wraps around us, soothing muscles that were straining from our intense connection. Still locked together, he arranges us so I'm cradled against his chest, his back against the porcelain.
I close my eyes, exhaustion weighing heavily on me, and turn to lean on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
Easton arrives and shuts off the water. He grabs a washcloth, and together, they wash me. The sensation is gentle, almost reverent—Easton cleaning my arms and shoulders while Diaval's hands smooth soap over my stomach, my thighs, carefully avoiding where we're still joined.
These two, who I never thought would share me, now work in unison. They understand the fire within me better than anyone ever has.
Easton slips into the other side of the tub, his skin igniting to keep the water warm.
"Good job, Sparky," Diaval says weakly, his voice a mere whisper. One hand still traces absent patterns on my hip, as if he can't stop touching me.
"Her heat broke. The tonic worked," Easton says softly, still washing my shoulders.
I feel the subtle shift as Diaval's knot finally begins to deflate, and he makes a small sound of loss as he slips free of my body. His arms tighten around me immediately, compensating for the lost connection.
Torben and Khal bring food and drink into the bathroom, their faces etched with concern and fatigue.
Looking at my mates through clearer eyes, I realize they look like hell. All of them do—dark circles under their eyes, stubble on their jaws, a weariness in their posture that speaks to three days of constant vigilance. They did this for me. Endured this for me.
"Wow, how long was I... like that?" I ask weakly.
Torben huffs with weary relief. "Almost three full days. Diaval's Hail Mary play apparently broke it." He arches a brow at the smug ancient who still has me cradled against his chest like a treasure he refuses to relinquish.
"It worked, didn't it?" Diaval's voice hits that haughty tone, but his hand is still stroking my hip, his lips still pressed to my temple. The smugness is undercut by the way he's holding me like I'm made of glass.
I let out a soft sigh, my body finally beginning to relax.
"You need to eat. You refused food through the heat," Torben says, waving a raw steak in my face.
Without hesitation, I grab it, tearing into the flesh with ravenous hunger. The rich, metallic taste of blood floods my mouth, dribbling down my chin as I devour the meat. Behind me, Diaval makes a sound of approval, his dragon rumbling in satisfaction at watching his mate feed. I gorge myself on the different foods Torben and Khal offer, my stomach growling incessantly even as I eat. A different hunger gnaws at me, and I let out a soft laugh as I reach for the next small steak.
"What's so funny, Precious?" Khal asks, forcing a tired smile.
"I have another insatiable hunger to deal with." My stomach grumbles again.
The guys chuckle softly.
"This one is not as exhausting," Torben remarks, looking thinner, with dark circles under his eyes.
"True. Are sows like me when it's their time?" I tilt my head.
