Chapter 60 Setting Herself Free
Damien
The moment the mattress dips, I know I’ve made a mistake pretending to sleep. Her weight is light—barely a breath on the bed—but the bond ignites like a spark hitting oil. Every sense sharpens. My dragon goes very still, waiting.
I can feel her, he murmurs, his voice a low purr that slides down my spine. She’s cold again. Let me warm her.
Don’t you dare, I whisper in my head.
The mattress shifts again as she moves closer, until the scent of snow and honey fills the air and her magic hums against my skin. Then her back presses to my chest, small and perfect, and she guides my arm around her.
Oh, the dragon says, amused. She does it for us. Convenient.
I can’t breathe. Not properly. Every muscle in my body goes rigid while she sighs, nestling in, fitting against me as though this has always been her place. The cold fades, chased away by the slow, rhythmic heat of our breathing.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing, crawling into a dragon's bed. I mutter silently.
She knows exactly what she’s doing, my dragon counters. And so do you.
I can’t move. If I move, she’ll bolt.
Then don’t move.
I can’t not move. I mentally spiral.
Then tell her you’re awake.
No.
Then I’ll do it.
Before I can stop him, my lips move—his words, not mine—soft and rough against the shell of her ear. “You’re playing with fire, Snowflake.”
Her whole body jolts, a tiny gasp slipping past her lips. I expect her to leap away, but she doesn’t. She freezes instead, every breath sharp, then whispers, “It’s rude to pretend to be asleep for a second time.”
I can’t help the quiet laugh that rumbles from my chest. “And it’s considered creepy to break into a man’s room for a second time.”
She twists her head just enough that I catch the edge of her smile. “And climb into his bed?”
“That too.”
“Well, if it’s creepy,” she says softly, “I should probably leave.”
When she starts to move, my instincts override thought. My hand tightens around her waist, holding her in place. The sound that escapes me is more plea than command. “Don’t leave.”
She stills. Heart thundering in her chest, and then slowly, she turns in my arms until she’s facing me. The firelight paints her in gold and silver, snow still tangled in her hair. Her fingers come to rest against my bare chest, tentative but sure, tracing the heat there.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she says quietly. “I don’t usually crawl into strangers’ beds.”
I tilt my head, meeting her gaze. “I’m not a stranger. I’m your mate.”
Something flickers in her eyes that I can't decipher. “And you?” she asks. “You mean to tell me you’ve never had a woman randomly crawl into your bed in the middle of the night?”
A wry smile touches my mouth. “I’ve never had any woman in my bed. Day or night.”
She blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Ever?”
“Ever.”
The silence that follows feels thick enough to burn through. Her heartbeat thrums against mine, the bond pulsing in time with it. I can feel her thoughts racing, her power coiling beneath her skin, tasting the heat like it’s new to her.
The dragon murmurs in approval, a deep, rumbling satisfaction. She’s here because she trusts us.
I don’t want to hurt her, I whisper.
Then don’t. Hold her. Let her feel us.
Her fingers slide higher, resting against the curve of my neck. Her eyes search mine, and the frost at the corners of the room begins to melt again, dripping in slow rivulets down the carved wood.
And just before I lose the last of my restraint, I breathe her name. “Bella…”
She answers with a whisper of her own. “Damien.”
Her eyes flutter, a shy tilt of her head upward as if drawn by the same invisible thread that binds us. The space between us vanishes in a heartbeat—my hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing the soft curve of her jaw. Then she moves further, and our lips collide, tentative at first, a brush of warmth against frost. It's slow, like the first thaw of spring, soft as falling snow. Her mouth yields to mine, parting with a sigh that sends fire racing through my veins. I deepen the kiss, sensual and unhurried, tasting the chill of her magic mingled with the sweetness of honey. My tongue traces hers, and she responds with a quiet moan that vibrates against me. The bond flares, a golden pulse syncing our hearts, our breaths. She's new to this—hesitant fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer—and so am I, every sensation amplified by the raw novelty of it. No one has ever touched me like this, awakened the dragon so completely. My body reacts without permission, my cock twitching hard against her thigh, thickening with need. She gasps into my mouth, breaking the kiss for a fraction of a second, her eyes wide and darkened with surprise. "Damien..." she breathes, but there's no fear in it, only a spark of curiosity and want.
I pull back just enough to search her face, my forehead resting against hers. "We don't have to rush," I murmur, though my voice is rough and strained. My hand slides down her side, tracing the curve of her hip, and I feel her shiver from the heat building between us.
She shakes her head, a small, determined smile curving her lips. "I don't want to stop." Her fingers explore my chest, mapping scars and muscle, dipping lower to the edge of the blanket. "I've been caged for too long, Damien."
In the quiet of the room, with only the crackle of the fire as witness, she allows herself to be free, with me. My dragon hums in contentment, urging me to claim her gently, piece by piece. As her hand ventures lower, brushing against my arousal, I capture her lips again, the promise of intimacy hanging thick in the air.