Then she was sliding down to the floor, boneless as a fish into his waiting arms. He caught her quickly and framed his hips with her thighs. The heat of him, pulsing thick and rigid against her core, nudged her still sensitive clit.
“Now you’re ready for me.”
Ready didn’t begin to describe it.
The broad crown met her entrance, and in a stroke, he joined with her for the perfect fit she’d fantasized about since the moment he appeared in her alley. Arthur groaned a low and deep sound of satisfaction. Her pussy clenched tightly on the next stroke and sent ripples of pleasure vibrating through her clit, as if every nerve were alight—electrified.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to be inside you again.”
“A century?” she asked, earning a husky laugh from him.
“Mmhmm. Trust me when I say I plan to fuck you hard enough to make up for every day.”
Oh, sweet stars.
A smooth and slow rhythm carried them through the first motions. All along, Nimue had thought the first coupling would be fast and frenetic, desperate plunges inside her, the slap of wet skin pounding skin. His control surprised her as much as it pleased.
Everything about the impetuous king had changed.
One intense stroke wrenched a groan from her. She gripped his shoulders, then her head fell back as he lavished attention on her breasts and teased each rosy tip. He left no part of her neglected, worshipping her neck and the pulse point in her throat before their lips met again.
“Arthur, I—”
“You are everything to me.”
Nimue’s breath caught despite his pace picking up speed. “What?”
“I love you with all of my heart, and I’ve waited a hundred years to tell you.”
Whatever words she had on the tip of her tongue no longer mattered.
Then he was fucking her as fiercely as she’d expected of a dragon, curving one of his strong arms around her body and then shifting them both into another position in a wild turn that took her by surprise. If his cock hadn’t already taken her breath away, his athleticism would have.
He trapped her beneath him and framed her face with his hands, tangling his fingers in her ruby curls and kissing her as if he had a hundred years to make up for.
He did.
“Be mine.”
In what way? her mind asked. “Yes,” her lips replied without hesitation.
Arthur emanated heat and raw magic, a sensation she’d never experienced before from him despite years of witnessing his summoning of Excalibur and his celestial armor.
In the back of her mind and depths of her subconscious, she knew what to expect long before his teeth closed over her throat.
During those final moments when she could have rescinded her consent and changed her mind, stopped him cold—she surrendered instead and tilted her head back, baring her neck to him.
I want him to be mine.
Nimue had never tried in earnest to bind Arthur to her heart or to her will. Once, as a much younger fae, they’d played that game. When she tried to trick him, Arthur saw through her ploy and playfully declined. Then, after the first two lifetimes passed, it ceased to be a game to her, and the amusement withered.
All she had wanted was for Arthur to declare himself as her in heart and soul, with binding words that her fae magic could latch on to with an alligator grip.
Again, her heart told her Arthur would agree to anything she asked at that moment and that chasing orgasm would take precedence over self-preservation to elude fae tricks.
However, it was not a fae scheme. It had not been a trick for many centuries, and it wouldn’t be a trick this time if only he’d entrust himself to her the way she trusted him not to rip her throat out in what became an increasingly feral state.
“I want you to be mine forevermore,” she moaned as he struck the perfect depth.
“I am, Nim. I am.”
The sounds he made while nearing climax set her ablaze with passion, and in the next second, within a breath of his uttered words, her magic took hold and twined with his soul. His teeth closed over her skin, and the heat of his draconic magic scorched her spirit at the precise moment her winter essence burned his soul, mutual and dazzling. She gasped from the shock of it as orgasm hit her with the force of a freight train. She spiraled out of control again, bucking against him and crying his name.
Nothing could ever beat the guttural, low groan that spilled from his lips as he thrust deep and emptied inside her.
For a while, they laid together, tangled limbs and sweaty skin cooling. Their heartbeats synced, the sensation foreign but not unwelcome.
“Did you mean it?” she asked quietly.
“Mean what?”
“What you said.”
“I said many things. You’ll have to be more specific. Are you asking if I meant it when I said I want to spend the night in your pussy, or are you asking if I truly can’t wait to see you take every inch of my dick down your thro—”
Nimue swatted him. “You know what I’m asking. The acceptance, Arthur. Did you…”
“You’re asking if I was too lost in the moment to realize you’d bind me?”
She nodded, biting her lower lip.
“No. I wasn’t that far gone. I knew what you’d do. Did you think after so many years together that I wouldn’t?”
Nimue said nothing.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know you after nine centuries?”
“Shut up.”
He grinned and rolled her beneath him again. “Perhaps it’s this new body, but I’m finished with denying the things I want most. I want to appreciate every second of this life.”
“Because of the impending state of the world ending?”
“Because I’ve wasted enough time without being happy.”
“You’ll have to actually survive, you know. I know the lot of you have fallen back on suicide runs in the past and relying on Merlin’s connection. Please. Not this time.”
Arthur laced his fingers through hers. “I won’t fall in battle, Nim. I have far too much to live for to let a Titan take me out now.” His lips brushed the top of her head. “Rest, love.”
“But—”
“Anything else can wait until tomorrow.”
Bonded. It was wild to him that such a thing had even been possible.
The icy touch of Nimue’s fae magic still reverberated within his soul, cold but familiar. Arthur wondered if Galahad had felt the same way when his mother marked him or if the draconic bond was so much different.
It shouldn’t have been possible.
He remembered the Astrid and Nate of the future discussing it one night after all hell broke loose across the world, wondering if they’d survive to see the end of the war—if he’d be happy one day or able to even take a mate, the two of them chatting around their campfire under the belief that their son was asleep.
Arthur popped into the fae’s rooftop laboratory and garden to find her shuffling through the cabinets and peering at the labels of glass jars lining sleek marble countertops. Half of the space had been encased by stone, brick, and glass. The rest of it remained open to the sky, separated by a sliding glass door.
“Nim? Are you ready to meet with the others?”
“Not quite. Almost, I just need—Shit.”
“Shit, what?”
Nimue smiled tightly over her shoulder at him. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something if you’ve begun rummaging through your cabinets this way. What is it?”
“I’ve run out of sylphium.”
“What is that?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Whatever worries you, worries me as well. What is that?” he repeated.
“My contraceptive.”
So long had passed since their first trysts together that it never occurred to Arthur that Nimue should have been pregnant dozens of times over. “Oh.”
Then something burned within him, hot and wild wi
th rage. “Why would you need a contraceptive?”
“To prevent pregnancy.”
“I know that,” Arthur gritted between his teeth. “But why would you need it when we’ve been apart?” The wild beast of jealousy howled inside him, monstrous and green-eyed, thirsty for the blood of a man he’d never met.
At last, Nimue turned to face him. Her eyes went wide with dawning understanding. “You jealous fool,” she whispered. “I keep it on hand for Saoirse and others.”
“Oh.” Embarrassed warmth surged to his face hotter than the surface of the sun.
“Not that you had a right to demand I remain chaste for you. None simply interested me.”
“Right.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Sorry. Sorry. You’re right. It’s silly to think you may have been chaste. I had no claim to you.”
“I haven’t known a man in over a century—not since you last touched me. I haven’t wanted anyone else. At any rate, it’s also useful for stomach aches and monthly cycle bloating.” She glided from the row of cabinets to the raised garden lined with thick dark stones shot through with silver veins.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ll ask Aengus to bring me a bit. He grows it in his garden as well.”
“Ah.” Arthur wrapped his arms around her and watched her rapidly tap in a text message to her fae friend. “Would it be so bad?”
“During a war? Yes.”
“The war will be over tomorrow. We’d be sipping wine—well, I’d be sipping celebratory wine, long before you even began to show.”
Nimue couldn’t help the laughter that shook her shoulders. “While I’m thrilled with your confidence, let’s not count our pixies before they’re hatched. We have work to do.”
“And Titan ass to kick this evening.”
Fifteen
The timing meant everything.
To satisfy the many allies joining them in battle, Arthur and Ares broke them all into groups with assigned leaders. Ares led the dragons in action while their friend Ian awaited their instruction from a fighter jet miles away. Under his command, dozens more waited for their chance to show the Titans what science and technology could do when humankind prepared for war against magic.
“There he is,” Merlin muttered as he stared down the length of a golden spyglass. Arthur looked at the projected image the wizard had enchanted onto a nearby mirror, allowing them all to share in his reconnaissance.
Cronus, the mad king of the Titans, emerged from the cold waters of Lake Michigan fifty miles northeast of Milwaukee. Thanks to help from the National Guard, they’d managed to evacuate a good portion of the surrounding area, including the city.
Arthur pressed the PTT button with the tip of a talon. Ian’s people had outfitted the dragons with radios designed to fit their necks as flame retardant collars. “Are all teams in place?”
“Alpha squad is ready,” Ares replied.
“Bravo team awaits your orders,” Ian said. His aid would be the turning point. In the future, the military had put up a brief yet futile fight against Gaia, wounding her greatly with their explosives until Pazuzu arrived on the scene. With that knowledge, Arthur planned differently.
His entire body hummed with nervous energy and excitement. The thrill of imminent battle sang in his ears.
“Charlie is prepared,” Belenos said.
“And so is Delta team,” Styx said, though she was the sole unit in Delta and lurked in a human form out of sight. Other resistance fighters needed Hyperion elsewhere.
“Echo team is ready on the ground,” Warren reported. The mages, shifters, and vampires who had answered the call were scattered in various groups throughout the city, lying in wait to handle the mortal agents of the Titans. If they came across anyone who had ignored the evacuation mandate, they were responsible for getting them to safety. His knights remained with them, ready to be magically transported wherever they were needed by Nimue. As much as Arthur would have liked having her close, he knew her magic would be better used supporting Lancelot and the others.
As the plan fell into place, nothing remained but the charge.
“Alpha, go!” Arthur shouted.
At that moment, portals opened across the sky above the bloodthirsty Titan’s head. More than two dozen dragons rocketed from them as falling meteors of teeth, claws, and scales, Arthur among them. There was something terrible and beautiful about the sight of so many dragons together.
They all struck Cronus as one, attacking with fire, lightning, acid, and sonic blasts. The enraged Titan roared and swung his enormous hands to snatch them from the air. For one terrifying second, Arthur watched as his mother came within inches of being grabbed. She spun away, agile and fleet as their enemy manifested his scythe. The terrible weapon’s blade spanned the length of a football field.
Without fear of it, they bit at him and tore away flesh. He couldn’t overcome them, regardless of how he tried to shake them free or how many he squashed.
The portal opened, and dozens of dragons flooded from it. Cronus swung upward with his scythe as the jetstream of teeth and claws fell toward him. The single dragon in its immediate path--one of the last blues in the whole world--became two scarlet-smeared pieces that flopped to the ground below. His death did not deter the remaining dragons. If anything, they became all the more ferocious. They shrieked in rage and grief and rapidly tore pieces of him apart.
Once again, the Titan focused his next effort on Astrid with the unwavering interest of a man with a plan.
He’d found Arthur’s weak spot.
How he knew, Arthur did not know, but it did not surprise him in the least that the solitary Titan with command of time itself and the founder of their species could see the bond between mother and son. And if he recognized Arthur, somehow, perhaps with that same gift, as the leader of their resistance, it made sense to remove him from the equation.
It was what Arthur and his allies planned to do, after all.
His grandfather collided with Cronus’s face, a direct collision course with the Titan’s eye. Impact sent out a splashing wave of blood and sent the dragons into a frenzy as Arthur prepared to launch himself into the battle.
The portal opened, issuing a stream of snarling dragons. The scythe swung up and felled three in one mighty blow, severing the wing of one of the last remaining blues in the world and bisecting one white wyrm down its middle. The scythe handle caught Arthur’s grandfather in the spine, and he spiraled out of control.
Astrid hesitated,
No!
No. Not now. Not ever. Arthur couldn’t watch his mother die again. He couldn’t witness the loss of his parents one more time, not when his younger self needed them and deserved the childhood he had been denied.
When the massive blade swept toward his mother, Arthur dove into its path. The titan king’s enormous sickle should have dealt Arthur a severe blow, if not a fatal injury. Instead, the world turned to white around them and filled his vision with shimmering gold and ivory. He couldn’t see, and from the startled cries all around, surmised he wasn’t alone.
“What is this?” Cronus demanded in a rumbling voice that could have split the heavens.
I’m not dead.
When the light faded, the first thing Arthur saw was that the sickle augmenting their opponent’s gift had shattered into a hundred pieces all around them, leaving only a jagged shard on the hilt. Then he realized the dazzling light was coming from his own body.
The armor he’d struggled throughout his entire new life to summon covered his draconic form in ethereal white metal, shaped to fit over his gilded hide and feathered wings without hindrance. Mithril capped the tip of every claw as snugly as the gauntlets he’d worn on his human hands and the same blessed metal molded to his tail with flexible joints. Excalibur was no longer a blade. He felt her. How the wizards had done it, he did not know, but the longest pair of fangs in his mouth resonated with her power.
“Impossible.” Fear trembled in Cronus’s voice. “T
his cannot be.”
“Obviously, it can.” He didn’t know how, thanking his lucky stars for the unexpected—and desperately needed—boon. “Turn back time now.”
Then Arthur ripped out the disgraced Titan’s throat with his jaws, already aware of the rumbling of more arriving, as well as the quaking of the ground beneath them that indicated Gaia hurtled through the earth at astounding speeds.
Her scream, anguished and infuriated by the loss of her husband, echoed through the soil.
“Stand ready! Remove the injured!” Arthur cried as he let Cronus’s corpse fall limp into the water. Whenever the future resistance nearly won a battle against Cronus, the fiend used his gift to manipulate the outcome in his favor.
Arthur caught a glimpse of Eostre and Belenos dragging Saul away. His feeble movement provided all the hope Arthur needed that the bronze dragon could be healed. “Gramps will be fine, Mom.”
“I know. Get ready.”
Gaia raced toward them faster than a torpedo, each tremor picked up by Arthur’s heightened senses. He figured out her trajectory within seconds and repositioned himself. “Bravo team, fire on my location in three.”
“Roger that,” Ian said.
Arthur counted as Gaia burst from the sandy shoreline, her fury a living manifestation of earth and plant life. Arthur and Ares unleashed a blazing inferno to keep Gaia exactly where he wanted her in the path of five incoming missiles. Forewarned and ready for their approach, he and the other dragons dove through a portal opened by Merlin as they had practiced, passing through seconds before the first rocket struck. They emerged a mile above her with equal momentum directed downward. As they fell toward the flaming Titan, they unleashed their breath weapons.
The smell of cooking vegetation and burning wood filled Arthur’s nostrils. She twisted in flames and writhed, desperate to reach them.
One of the pilots announced his next missile launch. Another followed. The dragons herded her and again vanished into a portal produced by Loki. The black dragon guided their way with surprising agility, opening and closing portals with snap precision.
King of Avalon: a Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance (Rise of the Elder Gods Book 2) Page 14
