Page 85 of Bonded To The Arena Master

I do. The fourth orgasm rolls through me in long, shaking waves. My walls clamp and pulse around him; clear fluid spills out in a sudden rush that soaks both of us. I keep moving through it, softer now, until the last spark fades and I collapse forward onto his chest.

He holds me there for several breaths, then sits up so we are chest to chest. The new angle lets him drive up into me while I am still sensitive. Two more deep strokes and he follows, burying himself to the hilt and flooding me with thick, hot pulses that mix with my own slick until everything between us is messy and wet and unmistakable. The heat of his release sits deep inside me. I feel every throb.

We stay locked together while our breathing slows. His forehead rests against mine. My fingers stay tangled in the hair that covers the broken horn. The only sound is the quiet crackle of the hearth crystals and the steady beat of his heart under my ear.

I do not move away. Neither does he. The residual wariness that once lived under my ribs has settled into something quieter and more certain. I press a kiss to the warm plate over his heart and feel his arms tighten around me in answer.

The night holds. We let it.

26

DRAXON

Beatrix stands beside me before the Council of Seven.

No black circle separates us this morning. The challenge remains active, and ancient law permits a second to share the marked floor. Her plain grey gown brushes the plates along my leg when storm wind enters through the high galleries.

The contact is slight.

Its certainty is not.

Nothing in the chamber acknowledges what we reaffirmed in private. The Council sees a stripped Volvath and a human carrying a ledger. Korgath sees two condemned obstacles waiting for a final ruling.

Let him.

He stands below the eastern thrones in black armor threaded with metallic gold. Silver caps cover his broken horns. Anger has sharpened every line of his ebony face, and his functioning red eye remains fixed on the thick book in Beatrix's hands.

The ledger did not exist when she entered the arena yesterday.

Miana's network assembled it during the temporary reprieve. Messengers crossed servant passages and lower bridges through the night. Merchants opened private tallies. Workers copied receiving marks. Vulmar added legal records from the sealed archive.

Beatrix bound the pages before dawn.

Zira lowers her dark metal staff toward her.

"The challenger's second requested leave to present material concerning the law's fitness and the accuser's standing," she says. "Proceed."

Beatrix places the ledger on a narrow stone stand.

She neither bows nor looks toward me for permission.

"Draxon argued that Royal Edict Seventeen measures strength poorly," she says. "I will show what the current measure rewards."

Her human voice cannot carry through the vast chamber unaided. Crimson light rises around the stand and repeats each word from the Council walls.

Beatrix opens the ledger.

The first page contains columns of dates, goods, house marks, and payments. Small slips of waxed paper have been fixed beside copied merchant seals.

"These entries were gathered from the eastern receiving platforms, private trader accounts, and duplicate delivery tallies kept by servants responsible for Korgath's stores," she says. "The originals were witnessed by two Council archivists before this hearing."

Korgath steps forward. "Servant scratches and merchant gossip."

Zira's staff cuts across his path.

"You demanded judgment through the account of a footman," she says. "You will permit the same class of witness to speak through records."

Korgath stops.