Hidden Flame: Bound to the Triplet Dragon Kings

Draven**

After confessing to Rory in the living room in front of everyone, I took her hand and led her to my room. As we entered,

the air crackled with anticipation. Once inside, I turned to Rory with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, Rory,” I

began, my voice low and husky, “I’ve always known that you were meant to be mine since I first saw you.” I felt Rory’s

heart skip a beat as she looked into my intense gaze, feeling a rush of desire neither of us had ever experienced before.

With a sly grin, I pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “You are mine, Rory. And tonight, I’m going to show you just

how much you belong to me.” And with that, I sealed our fate with a passionate kiss that left them both breathless and

hungry for more. From that moment on, there was no turning back – we were destined to be together, our connection

growing stronger with each passing second. “Let’s go somewhere you will be more at home,” I said as I made a portal

and we walked through into a forest in the Inbetween where I liked to go to escape Blackbriar. If only this place truly

existed, instead it is just an extension of my magic.

Upon exiting the portal, the air in the clearing was thick with anticipation, a heady mix of pine and something wilder,

something primal. It clung to my skin like a second cloak, heightening every sense. I could feel the hum of magic in the

earth beneath my boots, a familiar pulse that mirrored the frantic beat of my heart. Rory stood before me, her slender

frame bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Her wolfish eyes, a deep amber, held a mixture of fear and longing, a

virgin’s trepidation warring with the undeniable pull of our bond.

My fingers itched to trace the delicate lines of her face, to feel the softness of her skin against my calloused palms. But I

held back, savoring the tension, the electric charge that crackled between us. This wasn’t just about desire, though it

burned hot and fierce within me. This was about claiming, about marking her as mine, about forging a connection that would transcend the physical. Our kind, the supernatural beings who walked unseen amongst humans, understood the

gravity of this moment. Mating wasn’t merely a union of bodies; it was a merging of souls, a binding of destinies.

“Rory,” I whispered, my voice rough with emotion. The sound of her name on my lips felt like a spell, a potent incantation

that drew her closer. She took a hesitant step forward, her bare feet silent on the forest floor. The scent of her, a heady

mix of wildflowers and something uniquely her, enveloped me, clouding my thoughts.

a whisper, a fragile thread of sound that sent

the ground, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. I could see the

her mate. I found this game quite erotic. I like

My hand reached out,

from her skin, a palpable warmth that drew me in. Slowly, gently, I brushed a strand of her golden

her earlobe. A shiver ran through her, a visible tremor that spoke volumes.

My thumb traced

of her skin, the faint stubble of her werewolf

looked up then, her amber eyes meeting mine, a silent plea for reassurance shining in their depths.

desire, a flame flickering to life, ready to be fanned into a

her voice barely

of my lips that held a world of understanding. “It’s

I can feel it in my bones.” My words seemed to ease

gaze. I took another step closer, our bodies almost touching,

hand cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing her

eyes widening as she realized the weight of my words.

was about claiming, about marking her as my mate, about forging a

brushing hers in a feather-light touch. A spark ignited, a jolt of electricity that coursed

slightly, came up to clutch at

a slow, exploratory dance of tongues and lips. I tasted her fear, her

yearning. My hand moved down, tracing

feel her pulse, a rapid

pressed closer, a silent plea for more. My hand slid down, cupping her breast, feeling the softness through

her dress. A moan escaped her lips, a sound that sent

kisses along her jawline, her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. “You’re mine, Rory,” I

her skin, my voice a gravelly growl.

fell back, exposing the long, graceful line of her neck. I kissed my way down,

the contours of her body, memorizing every curve, every dip. Her

only in a thin scrap of lace. My breath caught at

body a work of art, a testament to the beauty of the supernatural. Her skin glowed with a soft, ethereal

before her, my hands tracing the curves of her hips, my

my lips brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She gasped, her

in my hair, holding

she whispered, her voice a desperate

burning

with unshed tears. “I’m sure. I

urge to claim her, to mark her as

around my waist, her

the soft moss-covered ground, laying her down gently.

the very air