Chapter 40 Post-Battle
Chapter 40 Post-Battle
Within minutes, what remained of the enemy camp had retreated into the caves for safety, and their own men began to scrounge through the carnage of the battle. Some were searching for usable supplies, others were ensuring the wounded pirates would not live to see the sunset.
Starlyght drifted on the wind around the island and came to land beside Aizurah, and Varynx followed. Being of no further use in the field, Aizurah gave her blood offering, mounted her dragon’s back, and lifted off, feeling pleased with the morning’s progress.
Adrenaline was still coursing through her when she landed back on Sunpointe. Starlyght wandered off to rest, and Aizurah spoke with one of the cooks about a hardy meal for all three dragons.
Her legs shook with anticipation as she waited at the edge of camp for her prince to return. Zeidan landed shortly after, and she watched with excitement as he made his way up the beach, helmet in his hands. Aizurah wrenched her own off and launched herself into his arms, her mouth clashing urgently with his, her legs wrapped around his waist. She was burning with excitement, aching with need.
“I need you…” she whined against his lips. The moment Zeidan released her waist, she gripped his hand and pulled him through the camp, ignoring the jeers and whistles of the men around them.
No sooner had the flaps of the tent closed behind them than she was ripping his sheath from his hips and unclipping each piece of armor with fervor. As she worked, Zeidan began to do the same, until they were both in their undershirts and trousers. And then Aizurah pounced on him again, scratching her nails through his hair and whining against his mouth.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” she begged, grinding her core against him. Through their clothes, she could feel his erection, stiff and hot, between her legs.
Aizurah was already wet, the excitement of the morning putting her entire body on edge. Neither wanted to bother with the process of undressing. Zeidan spun her about and bent her over the table, yanking her trousers and small clothes down in a single motion. His cock slid between her folds, immediately growing slick, and he sank into her with a smooth, deep thrust. Aizurah groaned, her nails digging into the wood of the table.
Zeidan took her hard and fast, thrusting into her at an agonizing pace. His hand slid into her braids and tugged her head back, the pain heightening the pleasure of their coupling. Her body was ablaze with heat, every inch of her alive with overwhelming sensation.
“Gods, you feel amazing love,” Zeidan groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “Did the fire and blood excite you, my fierce little dragon?”
Aizurah whined, shifting back to meet his thrusts. Her body was singing; every touch pushed her closer to the edge of oblivion.
“Yes, gods yes,” she cried. “Zeidan, I’m so close, fuck!” He tugged on her hair again, forcing her back against his chest, and bit the side of her neck. A gasp pulled sharply through her lips, and her eyelids fluttered closed. Zeidan could feel her body beginning to tremble against his.
“Come for me, my love,” he commanded, his free hand sliding beneath her shirt. His touch lingered on her belly before continuing upward, thumb grazing over her hardened nipple.
Despite the lingering metallic scent of blood on their armor and the fact that their skin was caked with sand, Aizurah wanted to linger in that moment, on the precipice, for eternity.
“Oh, fuck! Zeidan!” she cried out, her head falling back against his shoulder as white-hot fire burned behind her eyelids and her orgasm crashed over her at last.
“Fuck, Aizurah…” Zeidan groaned through clenched teeth, his forehead pressed to her shoulder as he spilled himself inside her. They each leaned on one another, breathing heavily…
When they emerged from the tent a short time later and made their way to the war table, the pair received a wave of cheers and whistles. Aizurah laughed and flushed, but was less embarrassed than she had been only two days before.
Sir Stonewell nodded at her in acknowledgment as she passed, looking worn but unharmed. The Cyrrant men were waiting for them when they arrived at the table, and Maerus raised an eyebrow at her.
“Fighting and fucking, right, cousin?” she whispered with a sly grin that he returned.
Lord Brendyn stood silent, looking unreasonably clean and completely unharmed.
Aizurah wondered, bitterly, if he had even witnessed the battle, let alone been involved. What is he doing here if he isn’t going to be of use?
“How would you consider today’s skirmish, Lord Taevar?” Zeidan asked, looking pleased.
“By all notes, it was a success. Still, many retreated into the caverns of the hills. They already know it offers some safety from the dragons’ elements.”
“How difficult is it to follow them and attack inside?” Aizurah asked. “We damaged a large amount of their supplies, didn’t we?”
“It’s a risk, to be sure. They likely know the caves better than us. We can’t judge how many men retreated, nor their conditions. If we launched a blind assault on the caves, we could be facing a slaughter.”
“But surely, if we launched a full assault into the caves, torches and blades, we could eradicate the entirety of the camp on Jewelpointe?” she asked with a sigh. “Do you think they will resupply overnight?” She glanced at Zeidan, and he nodded. “Perhaps we should regularly patrol by flight to ensure that doesn’t happen?”
“It’s almost guaranteed they will attempt to resupply in the dark. They have another camp on Starstone. Removing their capability to resupply would keep us at an advantage,” Taevar told them.
“And ensure the enemy doesn’t have time to rest,” Aizurah added with a smile. Kyrus nodded his agreement. “We should also hit Starpointe when they’re not expecting it—”
“Princess,” Sir Stonewell interrupted, “I need to see that wound treated.” Zeidan’s eyes almost bulged out of his head at the word.