physician slipped a massive dose of the same itching powder into the king's loincloth. And the king immediately summoned the dragon.'
Darius threw back his head and barked with laughter. The sound boomed raw and new, and she fell deeper in love with him at that moment. She'd never heard anything so precious because she knew how rare such amusement was for him. She hoped he found such joy every day they spent together.
When his laughter subsided, a sensual light glowed in his eyes. His features were so relaxed, so open. 'I'm intrigued by this breast feasting,' he whispered, rubbing his nose against hers.
'I am, too,' she admitted. 'I have an itch.'
'Allow me to help you.' He pressed his lips to hers in a lazy, delicious kiss. His fiery flavor, his heat, his masculinity, still managed to enthrall her. Need and desperation wrapped around every inch of her body, and she threaded her wet hands around his neck.
His palms caressed a slippery path down her spine and stopped at the small indention at the base. When those scorching fingers dipped lower, cupped and pulled her tightly against him, she sucked in an eager breath. She pressed her lower half into him, cradling his erection. Her nerve endings were alive with the memories of making love, and longed to repeat the experience.
'I'm going to have you again,' he said.
'Yes, yes.'
'Tell me you want me.'
'I do. I want you.'
'Tell me you need me.'
'So much I'll die without you.'
'Tell me you love me.'
'I do. I love you.'
She was living passion in his arms, Darius thought, and she was all his.
'Kiss me. And don't ever stop kissing me,' she said.
He did more than kiss her. He gifted her with sweet nips and erotic licks, then proceeded to suck every drop of water from her body. He invaded her senses until all she could see, all she could feel, all she could taste was him. She shivered when the tip of his tongue swirled along the edge of her ear.
Suddenly he paused. A slow, suspended moment dragged by. 'Help me forget the past,' he whispered brokenly.
She nuzzled his neck and dipped her hand over his ridged abdomen. When she clasped his thick erection, he hissed in a breath. She didn't hold him long, just long enough to stroke him up and down. Then she released him, granting him one last fleeting, teasing caress before cupping the heavy sac of his testicles.
While her fingers gently tugged, she swirled her tongue around his nipples. They felt like little spikes in her mouth, and she lapped at the masculine taste of him mingled with the water.
'How am I doing so far?'
'I need more time to decide,' he said roughly, raggedly. His fingers tangled in her hair, then massaged her neck… her breasts.
The sight of his strong, bronze hands on her soft, white flesh proved the most erotic thing she'd ever seen. Once more she curled her fingers around his length. He was so hot and big, so hard. Up and down, she tormented him. She wanted so badly to fill his days with happiness, to help him 'forget' his pain, as he'd said. No, not forget, but heal. She would do whatever was necessary to give him the peace he craved.
'What's your naughtiest fantasy?' she murmured against his collarbone. She bit down, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to leave her mark. 'Perhaps I can make it come true.'
'You are my fantasy, Grace.' His hands cupped her jaw, and he forced her to look up at him. 'Only you.'
If she hadn't already loved him, she would have fallen just then. 'I have a fantasy,' she whispered. She licked the seam of his lips. 'Want to hear?'
He trailed his hands down her back, making her shiver, then cupped her bottom and jerked her into him for deeper contact. 'Tell me.'
'Well, I like to read books about big, strong warriors who love as fiercely as they fight, and I've always wanted one for my very own.'
His lips twitched. 'Now you have one.'
'Oh, yes.' The warm water made their skin slick and she rubbed against him, letting the peaks of her nipples abrade his chest, letting the plump head of his penis catch between her legs. 'What I fantasize about is my big, strong warrior lifting me up, pressing my back into the shower tile and filling me.'
He pressed her back against the cool tile and shoved inside her, deep and hard and scorching. Steam billowed around them, but it was the spicy scent of dragon and soap that filled her nostrils. He felt so good inside her, more exciting than climbing a mountain or bungee jumping from a bridge.
He pumped in and out of her, and she wound her arms around him. His strength beneath her palms filled her with heady power. He bit her neck, making her shiver. He spread her knees wider and pounded harder. She panted his name. Moaned his name. Gasped his name.
'Grace,' he growled. 'Mine.'
And she was. Completely.
Darius held a sleeping Grace in the tight clasp of his arms.
She possessed inner strength, a giving heart and a deep capacity for love. Her smile gleamed brighter than the sun. Her laughter healed him. Actually healed him.
As he lay in the stillness of the night, with hazy moonlight enveloping him, he remained weak and sated from their loving. Long forgotten memories finally resurfaced, bits and pieces of his past, pieces he'd thought buried so deeply they'd remain lost forever. He didn't fight them, but closed his eyes, saw his mother laugh down at him, her smile as gentle and beautiful as the pristine waters that surrounded their city. Her golden eyes flashed merrily.
She had caught him with his father's sword, brandishing the weapon through the air with a dramatic flourish, trying to mimic the warrior strength his father possessed.
'One day,' she said in that sweet, lyrical voice of hers, 'your strength will far surpass that of your father.' She claimed the sword from him and leaned the gleaming silver against the nearest wall. 'You will fight beside him and protect each other from harm.'
That day never came.
He saw his father, strong and proud and loyal, striding up the cliff that led to their home. He'd just come from a battle with the Formorians, had washed away the blood on his skin, but his clothing still bore traces. When he spied him, his father smiled and opened his arms. Seven-year-old Darius ran to him and threw himself into the waiting embrace.
'I've been gone only three weeks, but look how you've grown,' his father said, squeezing him tightly. 'Gods, I missed you.'
'I missed you, too.' He fought back a tear.
His strong, warrior father wiped the moisture from his own eyes. 'Come on, son. Let's go greet your mother and sisters.'
Together, they walked side by side into the small house. His three sisters danced around a fire, laughing and chanting, their long dark hair bouncing about their shoulders. They each possessed identical features, plump cheeks and such innocence it hurt to gaze at them.
'Darius,' they called when they saw him, running to him first, though they'd seen him only a few hours ago. They shared a special bond with him that he could not explain. It had always been there, and would always remain.
He hugged them close, drawing in the sweetness of their scents. 'Father has returned. Give him a proper greeting.'
Their faces lit with their grins and they propelled themselves at the warrior.
'My precious hatchlings,' he said, laughing through more tears.
Their mother heard their mingled joy and rushed inside the chamber. They spent the rest of the day together, not a single member of the family straying far.
How happy they'd been.
Here, in the present, a lone tear slid from the corner of Darius's eye. He did not wipe it away, but allowed it
