The Dragon Queen Selection Chapter 109

LIRA

I should have stopped him.

Instead, my hands fisted in his tunic and pulled him closer, and the sound he made, low and desperate, sent fire straight through me.

This wasn’t like before.

This was a breaking.

His hands were everywhere, my waist, my back, gripping my thighs as he lifted me. My legs wrapped around him instinctively, and I felt him groan against my mouth as I pressed into him.

“You feel that?” he rasped, carrying me toward the bed. “You feel what you do to me?”

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because his mouth was on my throat now, teeth grazing that spot that made my mind go blank, and my fingers were pulling at his tunic, needing skin, needing more.

He laid me back on the bed and I pulled him down with me, desperate to keep him close.

“Cassian…” 

“I know.”

His hands were shaking.

I realized that as his fingers worked the laces of my dress, shaking. Like he was holding himself back by the thinnest thread.

“I know,” he said again, and there was something raw in his voice. Something almost broken.

I reached for him.

Pulled his face back to mine.

Kissed him like I could silence whatever he was about to say.

He let me. For a moment.

But when my dress finally came loose and his hands found bare skin, he pulled back just enough to look at me.

His chest was heaving. His hair had come undone from its tie, dark strands falling across his forehead. He looked wrecked already, and we’d barely started.

“Tell me this means nothing,” he breathed.

I stared up at him.

“Tell me,” he pressed, his voice cracking on the word. “Look me in the eyes and tell me this means nothing.”

I couldn’t.

The truth was a living thing in my chest, clawing to get out.

So I pulled him down instead.

“Please stop talking,” I whispered against his lips.

He made a sound, half laugh, half something far more desperate, and then his control shattered.

What followed was frantic. Urgent. The kind of fevered claiming that left no room for words.

His hands mapped me like he was memorizing. His mouth followed the same path it had taken before, but faster, rougher, like he was trying to erase something.

Evander’s name. Whatever careful distance I’d tried to build between us.

I let him.

God help me, I let him.

Because when he was inside me, when his forehead pressed against mine and his breath mixed with my breath and his hands held my face like I was something precious, there was no lie I could tell that either of us would believe.

“Lira,” he said my name like a prayer.

Like a plea.

I clung to him.

Let the world narrow to this room. To his skin against mine. To the way he said my name over and over, softer each time, until I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began.

When it was over, when the frantic rhythm slowed, when our breathing evened, when the fire in my veins settled to something quieter, we didn’t move.

He stayed above me, arms braced on either side of my head, his face buried in my hair.

The silence stretched.

Then he spoke.

“Don’t marry him.”

The words were barely a whisper.

My chest tightened.

“Cassian…” 

“Please don’t.” He lifted his head, and the look in his eyes stole my breath. Raw. Undone. Nothing like the cold commander who had intercepted my letter an hour ago. “Don’t marry Evander.”

I closed my eyes.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is exactly that simple.” His hand came up to my face again, gentle now, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. “Say yes. Tell me you won’t do it. Tell me you’ll stay.”

My throat burned.

“And what?” I asked, my voice cracking despite myself. “Run away with you? Live in some faraway cottage while your family tears itself apart?”

“Yes.”

The word came without hesitation.

I stared at him.

“I would burn it all down for you, Lira,” he said quietly. “Every wall. Every title. Every expectation. Just tell me you want me more than you want him and whatever he’s offering.”

My heart splintered.

Because I did.

God help me, I did.

But wanting wasn’t the same as choosing.

I reached up, my fingers brushing the hair back from his face. He leaned into the touch like a starving man.

“You would regret it,” I said softly.

“No.”

“You would.” I swallowed. “And then you would hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

I let my hand fall.

“You don’t know that.”

He caught my wrist before I could pull away completely, pressing my palm flat against his chest. His heart was still racing.

“Feel that?” he asked. “That’s what you do to me. That’s what you’ve always done.”

My eyes burned.

“I am trying to protect my family.”

“And I am trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From yourself.” His voice broke slightly. “From making a choice you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting.”

I shook my head, tears slipping free despite my best efforts to stop them.

“There is no future for us.”

“There is if you choose it.”

“Cassian…” 

“Choose me. Please Lira.” 

He said it like it was simple.

Like the weight of kingdoms and bloodlines and duty meant nothing.

Like I was worth the fire that would follow.

And for one terrible, beautiful moment, I almost said yes.

I opened my mouth.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Because I saw it. The ruin. The trouble that would follow. Evander’s pride, shattered. The court’s whispers. My revenge abandoned, the palace in disarray, everything crumbled. 

I saw all of it.

And I saw Cassian standing in the middle of the flames, asking me to let them burn.

I couldn’t.

I pulled my hand free.

“You should go,” I whispered.

He didn’t move.

“Lira.”

“Please leave.”

The word cracked.

Something in his expression shifted, hope dying, replaced by something far more painful. Acceptance.

He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to mine one last time.

“I will wait,” he said quietly. “However long it takes. I will wait.”

“Don’t.”

“Too late.”

He kissed me then. Soft. Almost reverent.

And then he was gone.

I lay in the tangle of sheets, the ghost of him still warm beside me, and listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway.

The letter from my brother lay crumpled on the floor.

I stared at the ceiling and let the tears come.

Because I had meant what I said.

That night, both nights, meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

The lie settled in my chest like a stone.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I would carry it for the rest of my life.