Chapter 74 The Ridge Ahead
Serafina
The sun was still shining brightly when I fell asleep after Azerath and I made love in my bed. This time he had lain on his back while I moved atop him, my hands braced against the hard planes of his chest, his strong fingers gripping my hips to guide me. My breasts bounced with every roll of my body, heavy and sensitive, the cool air of the room teasing my nipples into tight peaks. My long red hair cascaded down the length of my back, swaying like a fiery curtain with each thrust I took.
I moaned loudly as I gyrated my hips, closing my eyes and tipping my head back in wild abandon. The thick, relentless feel of him stretching and filling me so completely made me lose every shred of control. All I wanted was to chase that rising tension, to ride the building wave until it shattered me. My breath came in sharp, desperate gasps, my inner walls clenching around him as I moved faster, harder, chasing release.
And finally I did. It crashed over me like little fireworks exploding behind my closed eyelids—bright, sharp pulses of pleasure that rippled through every nerve. My body shuddered violently, a raw cry tearing from my throat as I came undone. When the last tremor faded, I collapsed onto the bed beside him, panting hard, skin slick with sweat and utterly spent. All I wanted was sleep.
And I did.
When I woke, the room had shifted into dusk.
The lanterns and candles bathed everything in a soft, flickering orange glow that danced across the wooden beams and stone walls. I stretched languidly, a low wince escaping me at the deep ache in my lower back and between my thighs. It hurt, yes, but it was a delicious, well-earned soreness that brought a lazy smile to my lips.
Worth every moment.
I reached out instinctively, expecting to find Azerath’s warm body beside me, but the sheets were cool and empty. Frowning, I sat up, my long red hair tumbling over my bare shoulders in a wild tangle. I slipped into a thin silk robe, the fabric whispering against my still-sensitive skin, and padded out barefoot into the main room of the safehouse.
Azerath sat fully dressed in the wooden chair by the lower table, his broad shoulders hunched forward, face serious and focused as he studied something spread before him. The firelight caught the sharp angles of his jaw and the dark intensity in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice still husky from sleep and earlier exertions.
He looked up, startled for a fraction of a second, then his expression softened into that devastating smile that always made my stomach flutter. “Ah, there’s my wife.” He leaned back slightly. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just looking at this map the little girl gave you last night.”
I crossed the room without hesitation and slid onto his lap, letting my robe part naturally to reveal the smooth skin of my thighs. His hand moved with possessive speed, slipping between them, the rough pads of his fingertips brushing lightly over the lips of my pussy. A shiver ran through me at the contact.
“And?” I prompted, my voice already breathier than I intended.
His fingers began to play with my slick folds, teasing, exploring, circling my clit with maddening lightness. I could feel his erection straining hard beneath me, pressing insistently against my ass through his clothes.
“I’m trying to remember what was there at that symbol,” he murmured, his gaze flicking back to the map and the glowing symbol of the flame. Then he leaned in and kissed the side of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “And you aren’t helping.”
I laughed softly, a low, throaty sound, and untied the belt of my robe completely, letting the silk fall open. My hand slid down between us, finding the hard length of his cock and wrapping my fingers around it. He was already bare—hot, velvet-smooth skin over steel. Azerath had made both his clothes and my robe vanish with a casual flick of his will.
Cheater.
“Then let me help properly,” I whispered, spreading my legs further apart in invitation.
He didn’t need more encouragement. With effortless strength, he lifted me as though I weighed nothing and positioned me straddling him in the chair. The broad head of his cock nudged against my entrance, slick and ready from his teasing, before he brought me down firmly, sliding deep inside me in one smooth stroke.
I gasped at the sudden fullness, my hands flying to his shoulders for balance. He licked and sucked at my nipples, drawing each sensitive peak into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks straight to my core as he began bouncing me up and down on his thick cock. The chair creaked beneath us with every powerful thrust. Pleasure coiled tight and fast in my belly again, my moans filling the quiet room.
Then I remembered Blink.
“Oh my,” I breathed, half-laughing, half-moaning. “Blink might see us.”
“No, she won’t,” Azerath growled against my breast, his voice rough with lust. “She’s outside. Now, fuck me.”
I obeyed without hesitation. Leaning forward, I captured his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss while my fingers teased and pinched his nipples, rolling them between my fingertips the way I knew drove him wild. Our bodies moved together in a frantic rhythm—skin slapping against skin, my hips grinding down to take him as deep as possible. The tension built rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped. We came together this time, his groan muffled against my lips as I clenched around him, waves of pleasure washing over us both.
Afterward, we stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
“Bath now,” Azerath said finally, his voice low and satisfied, “then supper.”
He lifted me effortlessly into his arms, carrying me to the bathing chamber as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The long, luxurious bath we shared was slow and indulgent—warm water scented with herbs, his hands gently washing every inch of me while I returned the favor, stealing kisses between suds and laughter. By the time we were done, the ache in my body had eased into a pleasant warmth.
I wore the same attire as last night—white shirt and black trousers. Azerath was in his usual black.
I gathered my hair and braided it tight, pulling each section firm until it sat flat against my scalp. When I tied it off, not a single strand slipped loose.
Azerath let Blink inside for supper. The black wolf padded in silently, then huffed in a series of short breaths, as if delivering a detailed status report only he could fully understand.
“Whoever was out there is gone,” Azerath translated, his expression turning serious once more. “But she is familiar with the smell. Rebel. They have a new encampment at the lake not too far from here. We must leave as soon as we are finished eating.”
With a wave of his hand, a simple meal of warm bread, cheese, roasted chicken, and wine appeared on the long table. We ate quickly, our focus fixed on what lay ahead, yet every bite tasted unexpectedly good after the day we’d had.
After supper, I donned my bag, fastened my cloak around my shoulders, and strapped my sword across my back. The map the little girl had given me went safely into the bag.
We stepped out of the hut and were met with rain. I pulled my hood up, the fabric dampening almost instantly as it shielded my face.
“The crescent-shaped bend of the river lies just beyond that ridge,” Azerath said, pointing ahead through the rain. “We need to fly.”
“Can’t we use the travel orb?” I asked. It would be easier.
He shook his head. “Travel orbs are monitored. I kept it only for emergencies.”
I nodded. “Alright. We fly.” I turned to the wolf. “Blink, rabbit form.”
Blink obeyed at once, her body shrinking and reshaping into a small black rabbit.
I placed her carefully into my bag and secured the flap, then looked up at Azerath, waiting for him to shift.
It started with his spine. A sharp crack split the air as his back arched, each vertebra shifting and lengthening. His shoulders widened, muscles expanding as his clothes broke apart and vanished. Dark scales spread across his skin, hard and smooth.
His arms lengthened, fingers fusing into thick claws. His legs bent backward, joints snapping into place as talons dug into the wet ground.
Wings burst from his back with a loud crack, spreading wide. His neck extended, horns pushing through. His face followed—jaw forming a muzzle, teeth sharpening, eyes narrowing into slits.
A spiked tail lashed behind him.
In seconds, he was no longer human. Where my husband had stood moments ago now loomed a dragon—magnificent, ancient, and utterly breathtaking.
I didn’t hesitate. With his help—his massive foreclaw carefully boosting me—I scrambled up the natural ridges and hollows of his shoulder until I settled into a secure spot just behind the joint of his wings, in between his spines. My thighs pressed firmly against the warm scales, and I gripped the ridged plates in front of me with both hands.
“Ready, wife?” he murmured, that wicked edge still lingering in his voice.
“Always,” I answered, pressing closer to his dragon form, trusting him completely.