The afternoon sun was golden, casting long shadows across the royal library. I was sitting at a large oak table, trying to focus on the reports from the southern farms. But my heart was not in the paperwork.
The Dragon Heart Stone against my chest was pulsing with a steady, warm glow. It felt like a tiny sun resting against my skin.
Ever since Alaric gave me the necklace, I was never truly alone. Even when he was across the castle in a meeting with his generals, I could feel him. Usually, the stone felt calm, like a soft breeze. But today, the stone was humming. It was a deep, rhythmic vibration that made my skin tingle.
'Seraphina...'
I gasped, dropping my pen. The voice in my head wasn't a whisper; it was a growl. It was dark, hungry, and full of a "spicy" heat that made my face turn red.
'I can hear your heart racing from here,' Alaric's voice rumbled in my mind. 'Are you thinking of me? Because my dragon can smell your scent through the stone. It's making me lose my focus.'
My breath hitched. Through the Soul-Link, I felt a wave of his desire. it wasn't just a thought; it was a physical sensation of heat. It felt like his hands were already on my waist, pulling me close. The stone turned a deep, burning crimson.
I tried to send a thought back. 'Alaric, you are in a meeting. You should be listening to your generals.'
'The generals are boring,' he replied. I could almost see his predatory smirk. 'And my wife is far too tempting. I am coming to find you.'
A few minutes later, the heavy library doors creaked open. The temperature in the room spiked by twenty degrees. I didn't even have to look up to know he was there.
Alaric strode toward me. He had discarded his royal cape. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, showing the shimmering scales on his chest that pulsed in time with my necklace. His eyes were not gold anymore—they were a molten orange, the color of a furnace.
"You're a dangerous woman, Seraphina," he said, his voice low and husky.
He didn't stop until he was standing right behind my chair. He leaned down, his chest brushing against my back. I felt a "shiver" so strong my legs felt weak. He tucked my hair behind my ear, his breath hot against my neck.
"The stone is screaming," he whispered into my ear. "Every time you think of that night in the garden, I feel it. Every time you want me to touch you, the Dragon wakes up."
He reached around and placed his large, scarred hand over the stone on my chest. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through my body. Because of the Soul-Link, I could feel his hunger as if it were my own. It was an intimate, heavy feeling that made the air in the room feel too thick to breathe.
"Alaric," I breathed, turning in my chair to face him. "Someone might come in."
"Let them," he rasped. He gripped the edges of the table and leaned over me, trapping me between his arms. "I am the King. And right now, the King wants his Queen."
He didn't kiss me immediately. He just looked at me, his gaze traveling from my eyes to my lips. The silence was "spicy," filled with the sound of our shared, heavy breathing. Through the stone, I felt his need for me—it was a fierce, obsessive pull that felt like a physical weight.
He reached out and traced the line of my collarbone with his thumb. His touch was scorching, leaving a trail of heat on my skin.
"I used to think the Dragon was a curse," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "But if the Dragon is what brought you to me... if the Dragon is why I can feel the way your skin shivers when I touch you like this... then I am glad for the beast."
He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a ghost of a kiss. It was a tease, a slow torture that made me want to pull him closer. I reached up and tangled my fingers in his silver-white hair, pulling him down.
When he finally kissed me, it wasn't gentle. It was a deep, possessive claim. It tasted of smoke and obsession. The stone on my chest glowed so brightly it lit up the dark corners of the library. Through the link, I felt his soul tangling with mine, a wild and beautiful mix of man and beast.
He pulled back just a little, his eyes dark and blown wide. "You are my anchor, Seraphina. But you are also my fire."
He picked me up effortlessly, sitting me on the edge of the library table. His hands slid up my thighs, his touch leaving "shivers" everywhere he moved. For a moment, we weren't a King and a Queen. We were just two people who were addicted to each other.
"Tell me," he hissed, his lips against the pulse point of my neck. "Do you still want your freedom? Do you still want to leave the Dragon when the war is over?"
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him back into a kiss. "I think you know the answer to that, Alaric. I'm never leaving."
The stone turned a soft, happy pink, and in my head, I heard the Dragon let out a low, satisfied purr. We were no longer characters in a sad book. We were writing a story of our own—one filled with heat, hearts, and a love that was stronger than any curse.