"I don't want to be your prisoner" she had whispered, voice filled with longing, her voice a warm whisper against his lips.
Maltherion's gaze didn't waver, molten gold burning with an intensity that pierced through her. "You're not," he said, his tone low and commanding. "You are my wife. You're my Queen."
Their lips collided again, and the kiss was nothing like the others - fueled by something ancient, something primal. Fire surged between them, each movement igniting a hunger none of them could deny. Xandria's heart raced, her breath ragged as he pulled her closer, the heat of his body seeping into hers, their souls drawn together by an undeniable force. The world around them seemed to fall away, leaving only the burning need that consumed them both.
His hands gripped her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the library table, sending books toppling to the floor, a candle flickering too close to the parchment. She didn't care. It was as if time itself had stopped, narrowing the world down to just him - his taste, his touch, the weight of his body against hers. She felt the steady thrum of his heart beneath her palm, it's rhythm matching her own.
But then, her fingers slid beneath his coat, pushing it off his shoulders, and something caught her breath - a hidden mark beneath his skin, something she hadn't noticed before.
There, etched across the hard plane of his chest, was a dragon. Not inked like an ordinary marking, but glowing faintly beneath his skin - it's form shimmering like flame trapped beneath flesh. It's wings curled protectively around his heart. Its head dipped low, fierce and regal. The tail spiraled down towards his ribs, as if it were alive, breathing with the rhythm of his pulse.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
Xandria's breath hitched as her fingers reached out, drawn to the intricate design.
She traced the edge of one scaled wing, her heart pounding as she felt the heat radiating from it. "Maltherion..." She whispered, her voice thick with confusion and awe.
His chest rose sharply beneath her touch, his muscles taut as if the mark itself was a forbidden secret. "Don't," he said, his voice tight, warning her with a note of something almost desperate.
"But ..." Xandria's hand stilled, hovering over the dragon. "What is this?" Her voice was barely a whisper, the question barely escaping her lips. "Why does it glow?"
"It's nothing," he said quickly, bending to kiss her collarbone, his lips brushing her skin as his voice came out in a low murmur.
"Don't ask me that now."
Her heart beat faster, confusion and curiosity swirling together. "Why not?" She whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Is it tied to the fire I felt?" The fire in me?"
Maltherion pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes. The molten fire within them flickered, replaced for a bit moment with something darker - a shadow of pain. "Some truths ," he said softly, brushing her hair behind her ear, "will burn us both before they set us free."
" Then burn me, my king." Her lips parted to ask more - but before she could, his hands slid down her back, pulling the fabric of her dress from her shoulders. His mouth was on her neck, trailing lower, tasting her skin like it was a lifeline. The rest of the world faded as he kissed her, his touch like fire itself, and she felt the questions about the tattoo disolve, swept away by the storm of sensation he was awakening in her.
She arched towards him, breath catching in her throat, as he pulled her closer with a quiet growl, his mouth leaving a trail of heat behind. She could still feel the burn of the dragon's presence on his chest, lingering beneath her fingertips like a memory she couldn't grasp.
"You are trembling," he whispered against her skin, his voice thick with desire.
"You are distracting me," she breathed, fingers gripping his arms, anchoring herself to him, as though afraid she might lose herself completely.
"Exactly," he murmured, his lips now moving against her jawline, his hands sliding under her thighs, lifting them to encircle her waist.
The air between them was thick, heavy with the scent of parchment, wax, and the undeniable heat of their desire. Xandria's thoughts scatters as he pressed her back against the table, lips moving down her chest, his mouth tasting her like a man starved. Every brush of his lips, every press of his body against hers, intensified the pull between them, as though the fire inside them had a life of its own.
She could still feel the dragon - its presence, the weight of its power - lingering on his skin like a whispered promise, an echo of the past neither of them fully understood. And yet, Xandria couldn't bring herself to care about the mystery any longer. All she knew was the way he made her feel - alive, consumed, burning.
The table groaned beneath them as he moved closer, his body pressing her into the wood. His mouth was on her again, lower, deeper, and her moan filled the high arched ceiling like a prayer, reverberating in the vast silence of the library. In that moment, she forgot everything else.
Forgot the tattoo.
Forgot the danger.
Forgot her name.
All she knew was fire.
Her fire.
His fire.
The fire between them.
His hands gripped the back of her thighs with almost inhuman strength, spreading them just enough to step between them. Xandria's pulse raced as his body came down over hers, their hearts beating as one, the heat between them a force too powerful to deny. His lips found herself again, more urgent this time, as if the world itself was rushing to catch up with the intensity between them.
Xandria felt the fire again, surging through her veins, igniting every nerve in her body. The same fire she had felt the same time they had kissed. But this time, it was different. Stronger. More consuming. She could feel the dragon's power - the legacy it represented - whispering in the back of her mind. She could almost hear it, the ancient call of the flame, and she knew deep down, her connection to him, to this fire, was more than just physical. It was bound by something older. Something more dangerous.
But just as the world around them began to dissolve into the haze of passion, a thought flashed her mind - a fear she couldn't quite shake.
Was the fire they shared a blessing?
Or a curse?
She wanted to ask him, needed to know the truth. But before she could form the words, Maltherion's mouth was on hers again, silencing all questions. And Xandria, surrendered, lost in the flames that were both theirs and yet entirely their own.