The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(61)

“I saw your arm. I saw the blood.”

“What of it?”

“It was gold.”

“Of course it would be, I had just killed a Dragon. Dragon blood is gold.” She took the tone of one speaking to a small child.

Cvareh didn’t even let the disrespect sway him from the truth he desired. “Dragon blood is gold. So why is yours?”

“You are confused.”

“I am not.” He didn’t remember crossing the room. He didn’t remember advancing on her. He didn’t remember her taking steps backward, allowing him to do so.

But there they were. There he was, holding her in place with a power he didn’t think he possessed. It filled the space behind his ribs, blowing out his chest. If he let it unfurl his sails large enough, it may just be enough to touch her.

“It was an illusion.” She stood straighter, trying to not to lose her ground. But she’d long lost the advantage in the encounter. Cvareh wasn’t going to give it back.

“That might work on others, Arianna—it likely has. But it will not work on me.” He grabbed for the arm in question, holding it up. “I know your blood. I know it like my own. I know it because its very scent torments my waking hours almost as much as your mere visage.”

“Then you should regain your head,” she snarled, baring her teeth. “For you may be drunk on magic if you think my blood was gold, if you cannot tell the difference between an illusion and—”

His claws jutted forward. They dug deep into her flesh for the first time. They tore through her gray skin to expose the meat beneath. Honeysuckle and cedar filled the room, more potent on his nose than the finest wine he’d ever drunk.

And, sure enough, gold flowed between his fingers.

“You bastard.” Arianna went to move but he was faster this time. He pushed her against the wall, grabbing for her other wrist.

“What are you?” he repeated, his voice deepening in resonance to an almost-growl. He had her pinned in place, but likely only due to shock. He’d healed too many bruises and seen her fight too many times to think she wasn’t about to throw him off and flay him like livestock. “Arianna, tell me: what are you?” Cvareh’s voice broke on the plea. He begged her. The scent of her blood was dizzying, and his entire body and mind desired her and her alone. “Close this gap between us. Let me help you as I want to.”

“And what do you want?” She curled her lips.

“I don’t know, not truly.” He used her breath as fuel for his words, tasting her. “All I know is that I want you.”

The snarl fell from her mouth and Arianna searched his face with her brilliantly lilac eyes. He had never held his breath with such anticipation of a woman’s judgment—of anyone’s judgment. But she held all he was in that moment. She formed his future with her tongue and lips and she was going to destroy him if what spilled from them wasn’t everything he needed—not wanted, needed—to be for her.

“How do you want me?” she raised her chin slightly, the woman was powerful even while prone.

“Ari…” He was losing momentum. He was losing his footing. The tides were shifting under him, pulling him deeper into her, and she had yet to show any inclination to save him from the swirling depths.

He would drown in her, if only she would let him.

“Tell me, Cvareh. Tell me and I will tell you.”

It was a deal too good to be true.

Cvareh leaned forward, slowly. Slow enough that she could fight back. That she could resist. That she had ample time to utter a word of protest. His hands didn’t restrain her; instead they caressed her ashen skin like he would the finest of silks in Napole. His fingertips sought out the calluses on the pads of her hands. All his lust, all the lust in the world, would be nothing if she didn’t burn for him in return.

His nose brushed along her jawline. Slowly. Tracing the strong curve to her ear. She smelled of dust, sweat, the remnants of Rok blood, sun, and his most favorite scent of all: the sultry notes of honeysuckle. It was a perfume sweeter than any he’d ever been exposed to. It was all he wanted to inhale.

“I want you for my lover, for my mate. I want to lay you down and take you to the pinnacles of delight. I want you… even while not knowing if you could ever grant me your favor.” Mentions of her former lover echoed in his mind. Cvareh didn’t actually know if Arianna even took a liking to men. He acted on hope, and her lack of refusal—physical or verbal.

“Will you want me still after I kill your King?”

He chuckled darkly. “I will want you all the more for it.”

“Will you want me if I refuse your sister?”

That demanded consideration. But desire and love and forever were all separate mistresses. And right now, all three were courting him as one combined. “I will want you even then.” His teeth graced the soft flesh of her neck as he spoke.

“Will you want me, even knowing I am a Perfect Chimera?”

The heat in his veins cooled by a small enough margin that he could straighten and look her in the eye, attempting to root out any forced boldness in the claim.

There was none.

The gold blood. Bones strong as steel, as strong as a Dragon’s. Her height. Her muscular structure. It made too much sense to be a lie. She had developed and grown with the strength of Dragon blood coursing through her veins.