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Forced Bonds

A thick plume of black smoke billows skywards, and vibrations rock the earth. It’s the fortification charms I had used to reinforce the protection shield projectors. I had infused those charms for months, imbuing them daily, and now? Something’s happened, and Axel, Hugo and Linden are still there.

“I don’t know the extent of your intentions,” I snarl at Eagan, “But I’ve got better things to do that don’t include you, like saving our squadron members. I don’t know if you’ve ever truly cared about the squadron- “

Eagan pins me with a look so dark I feel my bones shiver in retreat.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” he shouts, his voice splitting the air.

I swallow back my emotion, staring out towards the plume of smoke.

“You’re right. I don’t.”

I nudge Shienon to move forwards, and we begin our fast march towards the chaos. I give Bamer a long look as we move off, but I know better than to expect a mated dragon now bonded to be away from each other. It pulls on their hearts. Makes them ill. It’s a slow death to keep them separately.

Instead, I give Bamer a nod, hoping to convey the depth of my feelings on my face.

Eagan is shouting something, his voice loud, and no sooner had I glanced his way than a hand unexpectedly curls around my throat, crushing my windpipe. Thrown from Shienon’s back, I barely have time to register a floating form gliding above me. It’s a woman with long ebony hair, but I can’t make out much more as my sight starts to blur.

Unable to move, my body flares with pain at my abrupt crash landing. There’s chaos around me.

There’s a chorus of growls and snarls as I slowly inch myself into a sitting position, but my mind is foggy. Hands grasp me, hauling me backwards and away from the commotion. Hot breath breathes into my ear, and I catch the familiar scent of pheromones permeating the air.

“I have a lot to explain,” Eagan growls in my ear, and I stir at the panic in his voice, “And though you don’t trust me, I beg you to try.”

I open my mouth to argue, but my words still as his hands flutter over my scalp, cursing. My head does hurt. It’s sore and it feels wet. There’s a blur of red hands as Eagan wraps his arms around me, scurrying me backwards further until his back hits a tree. I gaze dazedly at the green canopy, warm tucked against the hard strength of his body. It should disgust me, I realise dimly, but laying there, all I can really focus on through the pain and laboured breathing is his warmth.

“I could really use your magic right now, Margo,” he whispers.

I’m struck by how long it’s been since he’s spoken my name.

He must be talking about healing magic. Mine is faint, nowhere near useful compared to my practical magic. I’m dimly amused by how he could be thinking such things when suddenly I feel and hear the slithering of tree roots. Closing my eyes, I’m aware when the roots climb up my body. I’m aware when Eagan shouts at the roots for trying to take me, and I’m aware when abruptly, I’m immersed in white light.

I wake later in a room that’s dark and dank. It smells of smoke and rancid things, and there’s a chill in the air but a scorching heat at my back.

“Keep still.”

Eagan.

Alert, I make a move to dart forward, but he holds fast, grunting when I fling an elbow into his ribs. His grip doesn’t let up, and when I pause for breath, I look around, seeing nothing but darkness and shadows.

“They caught us,” Eagan tells me, oddly composed, “You’re in dragon morph territory. Your dragons are safe for now. I’ve got you.”

I feel anything but safe.

My body no longer hurts, oddly enough. Despite the disgusting man at my back, I feel pretty good. Refreshed. You know, even though I got flung to the ground by a flying crazy bitch.

“Who the fuck was that?” I croak, throat dry.

He knows exactly who I’m talking about. He shifts, hands gentle as he sweeps my hair back. My veins slither in repulsion, and I grasp the knife at my hip, flipping the tip until it points up between his ribs.

“They say the way to a man’s heart is his stomach,” I growl in warning, “But I prefer between the ribs. Much more efficient.”

Eagan doesn’t react. Doesn’t flinch.

“That flying crazy bitch is my mother,” he admits softly, albeit reluctantly.

I inch the knife higher, and this time he grasps the hilt in warning, his lips at my ear.

“She is hateful,” he tells me, forcing the knife out my hand, “She knows who you are to me and that you refuse the cause taking flight because you deny us the dragons.”

I try to elbow him again, but he grasps both arms down and tight to my sides.

“Then I am equally as hateful,” I tell him.

He laughs.

“You could never.”

We sit in silence for a bit. Now my eyes have adjusted, I can make out the bars holding us captive. We’re sat on a flat stone bed made up of thin sheets, and that’s hopefully the only reason he refuses to let go of me.

“The tree roots?” I ask finally, my body stiff from nervous tension.

Eagan makes a move to touch my hair again, but then seems to think better of it.

“Healed you. It seems you have a natural affinity for wood magic, or they just really like you,” he answers simply.

“Axel, Hugo and Linden?”

My voice breaks, because I might very well break if they’re gone. They’re the brothers and family I’ve never had before joining squadron thirteen, and I have no strength left in me to handle their deaths.

“Over here.”

I jolt, hearing Hugo’s unimpressed voice from the far corner of the cell we’re stuck in.

He doesn’t look good. All three of them are battered, bruised and look about as lively as rocks. They all three look uncomfortable with how Eagan is sitting with me, and my cheeks flood with colour.

Linden holds up a hand, his fair features marred with dirt.

“We’re heard plenty about the heat and dragon mating,” he imparts flatly, “His mother is religious about it. Wants him to do it under ceremony in celebration.”

I try to lunge forward, and this time Eagan lets go of me, sighing heavily. He gives Linden a frustrated look, but Linden glares back, his stubborn jaw set. Axel strides over to me and holds me to him, casting a dark look at Eagan before ushering me to their corner, standing protectively at my back to shield me from view.

“I don’t want to do anything under ceremony,” Eagan argues, his gaze wary, “I would never do anything like that to Margo.”

Axel and Hugo stand in front of me, arms crossed, and Linden, short as he is, stands further in front, his poise undeterred and unmoving. Axel and Hugo may be the big muscle-bound warriors, but Linden has a hard edge to him that comes from being an older brother used to protecting his sisters.

“But you do want her,” Linden counters, and I peer between Axel and Hugo at Eagan’s face.

His eyes find mine, and I look away, unnerved.

“Yes. She is my mate.”

Axel makes an impatient sound, disgusted.

“She’s not your fucking anything after this. She has a say in what she wants. She has control over this, and that means that if she does not want you near her, you don’t fucking touch her,” he thunders, and I’m appreciative of his fierce protection and support.

I feel so wary and far stretched that I’m wavering on my feet, unable to get my bearings. They’re still arguing, so I grasp at a thin blanket and haul it over my shoulders, trying to calm myself. Hugo puts a hand on my shoulder, his eyes full of compassion and understanding.

"This is a difficult time," he says, wrapping another blanket around me, "but we will keep you safe, “If anything, I’m more frightened of his mother.”

I nod, remembering the horrifying moment my windpipe had been crushed, and I had been flung from Shienon’s back. Memory of the pain makes my body ache. I swallow to push the memories away, to focus on the now, and turn my gaze up to him.

“She was in here?” I ask, shivering.

Hugo nods, though his face clouds.

“Unfortunately. There’s a lot I wish she hadn’t told us, that needed to be said. Yet, she’s unhinged. Impulsive. She threatens us regularly and tells Eagan to complete his mating. I have to say, I’m glad he had you in his arms. She wouldn’t risk harming you when you were in his arms.”

He informed me about the situation. The dormitory had been reduced to rubble and dust. She had easily breached the protection shield projectors and my fortifications, and after searching for me and Eagan, she left, only to return shortly with me unconscious and injured, and Eagan carrying me. Apparently, the protection shields projectors served a secondary purpose that I had not realised. They were old travel posts for teleportation, and she moved them to dragon morph territory effortlessly, placing them in the cell and explaining why we were there and what she expected from us.

It's been days, and they’re kept as separate from Eagan as possible, unsure what to make of his part in all this, and why his mother was so intent on us fulfilling the mating process.

I shiver again.

“I thought she only wanted my dragons?” I whisper to Hugo, grateful that he’s keeping me informed.

“She does. Your dragons are the strength she needs, or so she says. But she…” He frowns, throwing a cautious look towards Eagan, “I think they look alike. She looks high status.”

Puzzled, I try to remember what she had looked like. Ebony hair. Could fly. Is Eagan’s mother.

Glancing at Eagan, I jolt with unease when I find his eyes are already on me.

“Who is she? Apart from just being your mother?” I ask.

The four of us stare at him expectantly, but he looks away.

“What are you hiding?” Linden demands, scowling, “We deserve to know what’s going on. Margo got thrown off her dragon and nearly died. We deserve to know.”

I glance at Hugo, not realising how close to death I had been, but he just shakes his head mutely, his gaze intent on Eagan.

“You do deserve to know,” Eagan agrees, his face dark, “I don’t know how to say it. I don’t want to say it. It’s bad enough as it is, and I’m reluctant to worsen the situation further. What we need to do is find a way out.”

Axel storms forward.

“We? What part of this means we’ll be escaping with you?”

Eagan stands, meeting Axel in the middle of the cell, gripping the front of his shirt and lifting him off the ground.

“The part where I’m not leaving Margo here,” Eagan snarls, and then freezes, his face a mask of panic, “Margo, you need to get behind me.”

There’s the sound of a door opening, and the clicking of heels. Eagan sets Axel down, his eyes finding mine with an imploring look. He motions me to come to him, but in what world would I trust him now? I weigh my options as the steps edge closer. Hugo and Axel step in front of me, and Linden warns Eagan to keep away from us. I feel safe with my squadron around me, or as safe as I can in dragon morph territory with Eagan’s crazy mother.

When she comes into view I’m peering between Axel and Hugo, and I’m caught off guard by the similarity between them. She’s all ebony black hair, tanned unblemished skin and burgundy eyes. She’s beautiful and otherworldly, but there’s a hard glint to her face despite her smile.

“And how are my guests?” she asks somewhat sweetly, peering between Axel and Hugo to see me, “I don’t smell consummation in the air, Eagan. Why delay the inevitable?”

Her gaze sweeps to Eagan, the expression hardening.

“Must I separate the bonded dragons?” she enquires, her gaze finding me again, “Or should I start removing fingers and toes?”

Pushing forward before I can think better of it, I feel Axel and Hugo try to hold me back, but I’ve already slipped through.

“You mean to torture the very dragons you wish to use?”

Her laughter resonates in the air, resembling the clear, melodious sound of bells.

“Oh, it’s his dragon too, which is why I’m flummoxed over why he hasn’t mounted you yet, little sweet,” she replies, striding to stand before me, “If he just deposits the required means in you, we can move on to the real plan.”

I blink, pretty flummoxed myself as I understand what ‘required means’ entails. My cheeks colour at her bold demands. She talks as if it’s expected and normal. As if in the time we’ve been locked in a cell we would have thrown caution to the wind, mounting each other like crazed rabbits with an audience.

“You won’t get any cooperation from my dragons. Not without my say so,” I tell her firmly, choosing to ignore her previous statement.

She laughs again, sounding unhinged.

“You can’t deny me. This is all what fate has decided. I am the queen of the dragon morph kingdom, and that there is my bastard son Eagan. If he needs his heat fulfilling, you better spread those skinny white legs and do it, or I will start taking fingers and toes.”

As if on command, the shadows within the cell swarm into figures, grasping at Hugo, Axel and Linden, blades flashing as suddenly, they all have a knife at their throat. A shadow captures my wrists, and a flash of pain erupts down my hand as my little finger gets cleanly sliced off. It was so sudden and abrupt that at first the pain felt as though I had simply caught it against something, or trapped it in a door, but upon seeing the digit fall limp and bloodied on the ground my pain seems to intensify all at once, as though confronted with the reality awakened my pain receptors tenfold.

Eagan is at my side, his face flushed with anger as he grips the bleeding digit and proceeds to wrap it to stem the bleeding. No sound leaves me, apart from heavy breathing. I glare at her. At her deeply bejewelled gown shimmering with elaborate embroidery and golden threads. At her sick amusement as she stares at my reaction.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“You want me to fuck him that bad?” I ask her, my voice thick with pain, “Fine. I’ll fuck him. You leave my friends alone, and you leave my dragons alone.”

Eagan stills at my side before dragging a hand down his face. The shadows retreat, and Linden reaches for Axel, swearing at the line of blood beading there. My own anger ebbs and flows in time with the agony of having a finger sliced off, but the queen is no longer smiling.

“Of course you are. It is the way it will be. And then I’ll have my dragons,” she tells me, her eyes narrowed on Eagan, “I think I’ll plan the ceremony for tonight, so that we may all witness the royal mounting of the future queen. Perhaps a babe will be inside you before the human kingdom is taken, yes? You better eat well then. You have breeding to do.”

Eagan fixes her with a dark glare, standing up abruptly.

“We will not have the ceremony. I will not have a fucking circus witness something that’s supposed to be sacred. She’s scared. She’s bleeding. She does not want me,” he roars, shaking the bars, “I will not make this worse for her than it already is. We will succeed, but by our means, not yours.”

His mother smiles again, a broad smile full of teeth, before reaching out and pinching his cheek.

“See to it that you do,” she says smugly, pursing her lips in mock pity, “By the end of the week. I’ll transfer the two of you to a lovely chamber built for newlyweds, though…you’re not yet married by dragon morph standards. Still time for that too.”

My skin crawls, but the adrenaline must have kicked in, as now the pain is dulled. Instead, I’m overwhelmed with the need for her to get as far away from me as possible. My eyes stare at the bloodied cloth wrapped around the stump where my little finger had been, and I peer up at Hugo, Axel and Linden, seeing the line of blood on Axel’s neck with a new wave of rage. I shudder, using my right hand to cast a glow to warm myself, and with a quick twist and flick of my good wrist I draw a thick brick wall down, shuttering her out from our cell, and it lands with a ground rumbling slam, wafting dust into the air.

Panting, I magic up torchlight and a fire, a basic toilet with a wall for privacy, and an array of food with bowls for each one of us.

“Everyone eat,” I murmur, fatigued, “Whatever we have to deal with, we should be well fed enough to be ready.”

Hugo throws a blanket across my shoulders again, muttering as he turns my left hand over carefully to inspect the damage, and Axel and Linden hurry to the food, ladling out a hot bowl of soup for me. Eagan stands motionless by the wall I’ve erected and doesn’t stir until I start to stand. When he comes to my side I slap him away.

“You keep away from me until we have to do it,” I snap at him, using my good hand to shove him, “This is all your fault. If you weren’t at Everlette Academy, if I had never been on this squadron…I’m plain and ugly and this shit should not be happening. I was meant to marry someone humble and kind. I was meant to be loved, at least a little, but all my experiences will be with you, and it kills me. It kills me and I don’t want it to be you.”

My voice breaks, and my shoulders heave as tears overwhelm me. Eagan’s face loses all emotion, becoming a hard mask.

Linden ushers me to the corner to eat, pressing the bowl gently between my hands.

“When you’re ready, focus some healing into that finger,” he tells me, “For now, just eat and sleep when you can.”

It’s easier said than done, but I do as he says.

The soup is hot, a steaming bowl of beefy potatoes, vegetables and strips of meat. It’s my go to magic meal; the easiest to conjure up. It’s what I lived on growing up, and it’s what I would make when there was no food left at Everlette Academy dining hall. Only the elite would eat first, and they ate more than their fair share.

This soup is my comfort, and as I shovel it in my face I will the comfort to wash over me, but it never comes.

“Why is she so focused on your heat being fulfilled,” Linden asks Eagan, breaking the tense silence, “She is obsessed by it.”

I glance up.

Eagan is at the far wall on his own again, his back to us, arms crossed.

“My father fulfilled their heat, but he then denied her and consequently, myself. She has no patience for refusal to fulfil the heat. She knows how it feels to go without.”

His words are matter of fact, but there’s a hollowness to them that I find unnerving.

“But it’s...rape,” Axel interjects, his face a hard mixture of worry and revulsion.

Eagan turns, barely enough to acknowledge the statement, but his eyes manage to find mine across the room.

“Margo has full control over how it will go,” He says aloud, but it feels like he’s talking to me and me only, “She decides everything.”

My traitor of a body flutters, and I shake off the fleeting moment of arousal, turning away and focusing on my soup with absolute concentration.

However, I can never be quiet with my loathing.

“If I’m in full control, it wouldn’t be you,” I mutter darkly.

“But it is me,” He answers quietly, “As much as you hate me, you’re stuck with me.”

I grimace, accidentally nudging my stump against the bowl.

Axel makes a sound of distress, Linden having to take him aside. Hugo simply stares at Eagan, his gaze calculating and sharp.

“You don’t like this either,” Hugo states.

Eagan stares at him for a long moment.

“I don’t like the circumstances, no,” he clarifies, and then sighs, “I don’t like how my mother is behaving. Nor the fact we’re all here. Or that Margo looks at me with disgust. I don’t like any of this.”

I flinch, looking away, my cheeks heating with the accusation. It’s true though. I’ve not looked at him with a appalled expression since Radon appeared.

“Do you care for her?” Hugo asks, splitting the uneasy silence once again, “Not just because of the heat? In general.”

Remaining composed, I distance myself from the discussion. There is no romantic involvement between us. While I find him attractive, there are no feelings of love, liking, or genuine care. It is simply a one-sided attraction based on physical appeal. Unfortunately, his heat is a bitch and wants to mate him to me forever.

Unfortunately, for the safety of us all and the dragons, I must do it.

“Does it matter?”

I close my eyes.

Eagan’s answer is barely audible, but I hear it in the silence in the cell. He sounds defeated, and it’s exactly how I feel. His response settles in my bones like a chill, confirming once again that I, Margo Earthen, is never going to charm the likes of Eagan Maverick. Not that I’d want to, but it would be nice if there was some softness to him. Some kind of gentle side where it wouldn’t feel so wrong to be forced into an intimate act with him.

How am I going to go about it?

Finishing my soup grimly, I ponder the best way to fulfil his heat with the least amount of vulnerability, embarrassment and coercion. My stump throbs again, raw in the cold air as my gaze lingers ahead at the wall I had erected. I could always tie him up and blind fold him so he can’t touch me as he likes or make me look at him? I would think about from behind, but after last time it was far too intense and was the reason why we had to change positions.

My eyes feel heavy after a time of contemplating, and it feels like it takes eons to blink, and then abruptly, I’m in a bed.

Frozen, I peer above me at the new ceiling of startling white mouldings of dragons, before realising that there’s sunlight streaming through a large window. Sitting up, I eye the clean luscious blankets and the new nightdress hugging my figure with trepidation.

Teleportation? While I was sleeping?

I feel as though I was only just awake.

There’s a dressing table with an intricate white mirror embellished with silver and rubies, and I catch my reflection with stunned horror. Next to me, his obsidian black hair rumpled, is Eagan. He’s not moving, and when I swing my gaze down to study him, he’s breathing soundly, his chest rising and falling steadily.

The fawning girl inside me is weak, wide-eyed over his softened features.

The betrayed bitch in me, however, smacks him across the head to wake him up, before bolting out of bed and creating distance between us.

“That hurt,” Eagan deadpans, his eyes settling on me through his drowsiness.

I glare at him, annoyed that my body still insists on reacting to him. He’s sexy. His hair is everywhere, and whoever put us here, made sure to leave him bare chested and glorious.

“Your mother did this?” I guess, crossing my arms as he sits up.

The blankets pool down to his hips, which for whatever reason, look suspiciously bare. Eagan catches my gaze, realising his state of undress, before thankfully covering himself.

“Probably,” he grunts, his gaze lowered, “The clothing too, I’m guessing.”

I look down at the nightdress, and then grip a heavy velvet curtain, wrapping it around myself for coverage. It’s barely a dress. It’s white sheer lace, looking like nothing more than spiderweb thin threads. It frames my non-existent cleavage, and barely covers the tops of my thighs. He must have gotten an eyeball of pink areola.

“Gods,” I swear heatedly, wrapping the curtain tighter, “What kind of magic does she have?”

He stands, dragging the blankets with him in a makeshift robe.

“It’s not all her. She has various people doing the work for her. She can fly. She is strong. She influences the shadows. She can teleport easily herself, but I’ve never known her to teleport people to a new location and then change their clothing, not without the use of travel posts. Someone is working with her.”

I stare at him.

We both know why she’s put us here, but we needn’t be surprised. It’s exactly what she said she would do, and now? We must hold up our end of the deal before the week is over.

I try to manage my breathing, but the draft from the window warns me I’m without underwear and my arse is bare. Completely bare. Not only must he had seen the pink of my areola’s, but he must have seen the thicket of hair between my legs too.

“Well,” I try to say, my voice faint, “Shall we?”

Eagan gives me a bewildered stare, before his brows lower into a frown.

“Not when you’re gripping the curtain like you’re a pure maiden scared for her virginity,” he states tartly, and moves away, “I said you’re in control. I’m not going to touch you.”

He sits on the edge of the bed facing me, letting the blanket slip from his shoulder and pool at his waist. His gaze holds challenge, but I’m too chicken to take the bait. I remember every second of the last time he touched me. Of how he tasted between my legs. Parted me to see how he fit inside me. How he wanted me to look at him.

It did feel good.

But it was intense.

And it’s Eagan.

My fingers fidget along the curtain, my mind making war.

He’s seen it all before. Literally. While there’s nothing especially wrong with my body, there’s nothing especially right with it either. Not that it stopped his tongue doing things to me that I never imagined a man would do to me.

“It’s too bright in here.”

He blinks at me, and I reach carefully for the other curtain, drawing it closed. With a deep breath, I let the material fall away, stepping out from the curtain and adjusting it closed properly behind me, keeping the light out.

I can still make him out in the dark, as it’s bright outside and it’s turned the room into a dark shade of grey rather than my much-preferred pitch black.

Eagan is motionless as I carefully make my way forward. My hands wring together anxiously, and for all my bravado and hatred, I’m still shy and awkward about sex. I almost jolt back when his hand comes out to soothe over my hands, his skin meltingly warm over my frozen digits.

“Your finger,” he murmurs, and I realise that the stump is cleanly healed.

Not even a bruise or a scab.

“It would get in the way if it still hurt,” I answer lamely, imagining what the queen would plan for things to go smoothly, “She thought of everything.”

I flinch when his fingers ghost over my wrists. His fingers drop away.

“Am I supposed to call you by your title?” I ask abruptly, “Prince Eagan? Your Highness? Your royal…?”

“Just Eagan.”

Nodding, I eye his hands. I don’t want him to touch me. If he touches me, I’ll get all breathless and anxious and I need to get this done. Closing my eyes, I untie the ribbon from my waist, my cheeks flooding with colour when I realise it’s not a nightdress, but a robe. It hangs open, draping over my breasts, and Eagan’s eyes fixate on the strip of flesh exposed.

“Close your eyes,” I say quickly, fumbling to tie his hands, “Keep them closed.”

He obeys, mute, but I hear his intake of breath as I tie his hands. My eyes narrow, but I don’t comment, instead scanning the room for something to cover his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Shush,” I hiss, opening a drawer and finding a long white stocking, “Just sit there and don’t move.”

Quietly and quickly, I wrap the stocking over his eyes, and it must be my imagination, but the tips of his ears are red.

“You’re not going to…”

His words trail off, and I’m hesitating, eyeing him with a mixture of arousal and unease. Nerves are making my hands shake.

“Margo? Talk to me.”

I clamp my hand over his mouth impulsively and regret it instantly. I can feel the heat and size of him this close. The scent of pheromones hits me strong, heady and demanding, making my thighs slick with moisture.

Eagan holds so still when I mount him that I remove my hand just to hear him breathe. My robe trails down his chest, and his chest heaves and then shudders as my skin brushes against his. He feels amazing. I could stab him right now, but it won’t be as pleasing as just enjoying how he feels.

“If it’s alright with you,” I say quietly, moving my knees either side of him for better leverage, “I’m going to just…do it. You okay being-“

“Used?” he interrupts, though his voice is rough, “No problem. Use me however you’d like. I’m loaded with stabilisers, so I can control myself. But are you…ready?”

Frowning, it takes a moment to understand what he’s referring to, and I reach between my legs, feeling the slickness of my cunt with shock.

“Not a problem,” I say, rushing my words, and Eagan cocks his head.

It looks like he’s waiting for something, his head tilted to mine. I eye his lips, the fullness of them, but kissing isn’t needed for this. I don’t want to kiss him. It’s too much to ask on top of what we’re already being forced to do, and I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. Kissing is far too personal and loving. This isn’t love.

This is giving in to a crazed bitch threatening my dragons.

Instead, I balance myself, lifting on my knees while my hand seeks under the blankets for his cock. Momentary concern envelops me over whether he’ll be hard or not, because I have no idea how to make a man hard, but thankfully I find the hot flesh of his cock easily, and it’s practically throbbing. Precum glazes the tip, and I pause. Last time I didn’t have a chance to look at it, or even appreciate it for more than how big it felt inside me.

Now I’m looking at it, and it’s perfect.

There’s a thickness and heftiness to it that entrances me. The heat of it baffles me, and as I grasp it for inspection, more precum seeps out the slit at the top. Eagan inhales deeply, waiting, so I take advantage of how he can’t see what I’m doing, and swipe the precum with my thumb, before giving it a quick taste.

He moans.

“Did you just taste me?”

I push my hand against his mouth again.

“You weren’t supposed to know that,” I hiss, my skin feeling blistering hot as my embarrassment courses over me, “I was just curious.”

He nods, slowly, and I lower myself, reaching for his cock. Fumbling, I find my entrance, hesitating over how huge he feels. I can’t bring myself to look at him when I finally slide down, but I hear him. I feel him. He tenses all over, before giving a shuddering breath, and he leans forward, his head lowered as I inch him inside.

It’s big.

Despite how wet I was, it doesn’t stop his size being something to overcome, per say. My thighs tremble with the effort to pace myself slowly, before I grit my teeth and bare down on him all at once, feeling myself stretch to accommodate.

“Easy,” he tells me, one of his bound hands patting my thigh, “Easy. It’s just us here. Do what you want to me.”

That shouldn’t arouse me as much as it does, but it dulls the throbbing sensation in my pussy. The heat of him inside me overwhelms, but I grind down, moving instinctively to get my balance for movement, before gasping as his cock nudges a particular sweet spot inside me. I pause, daring myself to look at his face as I grind my hips down again. His face is strained, his brow furrowed. When my hips roll again his hands flex.

A small seed of confidence blooms over how I can see exactly what I can do to him, how it can affect him, so I chase my own pleasure, grinding and rolling my hips on his cock as I please. I reach behind me, bracing my hands on his knees for support, moaning as I work harder and faster, I hear him swear under his breath. It’s a risky move with our position on the edge of the bed, but his legs are long and strong with muscle, so I throw caution to the wind as I pick up the pace and do as he had instructed me: to use him as I want.

“Margo, you’ll be the death of me,” he hisses, his words hurried, “Slow down, my cherished star, please.”

The shock of the pet name has me lurch forwards, my pace thrown off, and the movement has me roll hard and fast, making me grimace, before Eagan shudders. Something hot bursts inside me, and I stare at him as his seed spills out of me. His face looks tight, and I get the sense he’s embarrassed.

I move off him quickly, stumbling awkwardly as I regain my footing.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, unsure how to talk to him, “I’ll untie you now.”

He’s eerily silent as I remove the ribbon, his jaw tense. I hesitate before moving the blindfold. He turns his head away from me.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

I keep hearing what he had called me in my head. My cherished star. Never in a million years would I have guessed he would call me something like that.

“I’m fine,” he snaps, awakening me from my puzzled awe, “Just give me a moment.”

Hurt, I retreat, silently moving to the dresser to change.

However evil his mother appears to be, she doesn’t hold back with fashion. I try and distract myself from Eagan by pondering through the gowns, dismayed that they’re all intricately ornate and embellished or heavily embroidered. I’m gazing at a pale dusky rose-pink gown with cornflower blue accents. I finger the delicate material, my cheeks flushing at the stars embroidered into the fabric.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Eagan finally says from behind me, “After last time I wanted it to go better, and then I ruined it again. I’m sorry.”

I look at him, holding the gown in my hands, before remembering my nakedness and using the gown to hide myself. His arms are crossed, and he’s stood with the blankets wrapped around him again, but his eyes are fixed on the gown in a strange wary way, gazing over it multiple times.

“Where did you find that?”

I look down at it, baffled at the astonished look on his face. It can’t be because I’m holding it. Or that it looks beautiful against me. His surprise must be over how thoroughly his mother thought to prepare this room. Nothing more.

“The dresser,” I answer carefully, “I know it won’t suit me, don’t worry. I’m not trying to dress above my station, I assure you.”

He frowns at me, looking distressed.

“Do you like it?”

Looking down at the material again, I nod. It is gorgeous. I recognise it too. It’s the very gown that was applauded in my first year, made by a talented student who loved to sew magic into her projects. This one is made from protection spells, the threads humming with enchantment. My fingers run over the embroidered stars again, and a new spell flares, more potent and alarmingly obvious.

“This spell wasn’t here before,” I mutter, frowning as my fingertips trace the spell, “It’s more than the protection spell. It’s almost like a shielding spell? Defence magic?”

“But do you like it?” He asks again, urgently.

My eyes meet his.

“This was at Everlette Academy. The original spell has been boosted by a powerful defence spell, and your mother has no qualms about harming me, so she wouldn’t have knowingly left this here for me? Which means the dresses were here before. From someone else.”

Eagan flinches, his head turning away again, but he nods.

“Yes. They were here before, just not in this room.”

“Then what room?”

“Mine.”

Carefully observing him again, I note how he fidgets. Eagan Maverick, fidgeting.

“Why do you have dresses in your room, Eagan?” I ask quietly, unsure where this is going.

He drags a hand down his face.

"You were never part of the original plan, Margo," he states, with a tone of exhaustion. "My dragon, along with the eggs, were intended for us to utilize the hatchlings as we deemed appropriate since she was my dragon. However, as you are aware, your involvement changed the circumstances."

I’m about to speak, confused, but he raises a hand.

“It got difficult, because I knew as soon as I saw you. Initial orders were to kill anyone who discovered the nest, but I knew that you were mine that night. I just didn’t know what to do about it. You were obviously good. You were hiding them out of the goodness of your own heart, and my intentions were never good. Then the hatchlings imprinted on you, and I was forced to observe until enfolding you into the squadron.”

He swallows, lowering his hand and finally looking at me.

"I've been buying gowns since your first day at Everlette Academy, hoping you'd be mine. I keep messing up. After the first time, I was too worried to approach you, but I wanted to. I don't know how to talk to you or navigate this, and you hate me, but I want to do right by you. I'm not good at this."

I blink at him, holding the gown up again, seeing the stars and feeling the realisation creep in. I don’t quite believe it, mind you, because it doesn’t feel real. No way has Eagan being buying me gowns because he knew he was mated to me since before I enrolled at Everlette Academy.

“I do like it,” I say quietly, “But why gowns?”

He looks at me as if it’s clear.

“Because you would look beautiful in them.”

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