Chapter 8: Taming the Beast.

Heat pressed against Seraphina's skin like a suffocating blanket. A prelude to the storm.

It wasn't just the room; it was Orin's very essence, a furnace threatening to burst. The air crackled with a primal energy, thick and heavy, a scent of ozone and something akin to scorched earth clinging to her nostrils.

The growl, when it came, resonated in her bones, a low, guttural rumble that seemed to emanate from the very bedrock beneath them. It was the sound of something ancient, something untamed, a beast straining against its chains.

Orin's golden eyes, usually a warm, molten hue, darkened, becoming pools of raw, predatory intensity. The scales along his arms, normally a subtle shimmer, pulsed with an internal fire, shifting and writhing like living embers. A dangerous beauty, a promise of both exquisite pleasure and devastating pain.

Seraphina, instead of retreating, felt a surge of exhilaration. A thrill that danced along her spine, a dangerous game she was more than willing to play.

"Something wrong, Dragon Lord?" Her voice was low, taunting, teasing. She let her gaze drag over him, deliberately slow, watching the way his nostrils flared. "You seem… a little hot under the collar."

He moved with a speed that belied his size, a blur of motion that slammed her against the cold, rough stone wall. The impact stole her breath, a sharp, involuntary gasp, but it wasn't fear that made her heart pound. It was the raw, undeniable thrill of being so close to the edge.

His massive frame loomed over her, a wall of heat and muscle, trapping her against the stone. His breath, ragged and hot, fanned across her face, carrying the scent of something wild and untamed. His hands slammed against the wall on either side of her head, effectively caging her in, the tips of his fingers already morphing into sharp, obsidian claws.

Seraphina's pulse skipped, but she held her smirk.

"Did I strike a nerve?" she murmured, deliberately slow, tilting her chin up so they were nearly nose to nose.

Orin's breath came ragged, hot against her lips.

"Say it again," he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble, his nose brushing against hers. "Tell me how tense I am."

Seraphina lifted her chin, her lips curving into a slow, deliberate smirk. "Tense?" she repeated, her voice laced with playful mockery. "Darling, you're positively coiled."

A low, guttural growl ripped from Orin's throat, a sound that wasn't human, but something far more primal, a raw, possessive claim. He wasn't playing anymore.

Before she could deliver another taunt, his hand shot out, gripping her jaw, tilting her head back, exposing the delicate curve of her throat. The gesture wasn't violent, but it was undeniably dominant, a clear display of power.

A shiver rolled through her spine, but she didn't back down. Didn't fight. She didn't need to. Because she knew exactly what she was doing, what she was provoking.

His lips hovered just above her skin, his breath scalding her sensitive flesh, the heat of his body radiating against hers. He shouldn't. He couldn't. But gods, the way she looked at him, like she wanted to be devoured, undone—how the hell was he supposed to resist?

"I should ruin you," he rasped, his voice thick with barely restrained desire. "Mark you so deep, you'll never forget who you belong to."

Seraphina's pulse hammered against his grip, a frantic rhythm against the heat of his skin. But she grinned, her lashes lowering, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.

"Then do it," she whispered, her voice a silken challenge. "Show me."

Something snapped within Orin, a fragile thread of control breaking under the weight of his desire. His teeth grazed her throat, a sharp, tantalizing scrape, his tongue flicking out to taste the frantic pulse beating beneath her skin. He savored the taste, the scent of her, like a starving man offered a feast.

She bit her lip, heat curling deep in her belly.

He wanted her.Not with pretty words. Not with whispered promises. With instinct. With possession. And gods, she thrived on it.

His free hand found her hip, gripping her hard, yanking her flush against him. The friction sent a bolt of heat between her legs. He was all fire—scorching, consuming, impossible to escape.

"You don't know what you're tempting, little queen," he growled, his voice hoarse, rough, the last vestiges of his restraint crumbling.

She arched against him, pressing her lips close to his ear, her breath hot against his skin. "Oh, but I do," she whispered, her voice laced with a dangerous promise. "I'm counting on it."

That was it. The final provocation. A guttural snarl ripped from his throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated desire. His hands moved, gripping her thighs, lifting her against the cold stone, her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, his hips pinning her firmly against the wall. His nose trailed down the column of her throat, inhaling her scent like a man possessed, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.

Seraphina felt the sharp scrape of his fangs, a tantalizing brush against her skin, the way his breath hitched, a silent battle against his own overwhelming desires. A shiver shot through her, a mix of fear and exhilaration.

She wanted him. Not with pretty words. Not with whispered promises. With instinct. With possession.

She shifted slightly, rolling her hips just enough to make him curse, his claws digging into her skin, a sharp, stinging reminder of his power.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, voice nothing but a gravelly growl.

Seraphina smirked, dragging a slow fingertip down the side of his jaw. "What's the matter, Dragon Lord? Afraid I'll win?"

"Careful," he warned, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

Seraphina grinned against his jaw, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Make me," she whispered, her voice a challenge. "Show me how careful I should be."

Another growl, deeper, more threatening this time.

His lips finally crashed against hers, a brutal, possessive kiss that stole her breath and ignited a fire in her veins. He kissed like he fought, with a raw, untamed ferocity, a dominant, consuming hunger that left her breathless and aching.

His tongue invaded her mouth, claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt, no room for resistance. He tasted of fire and raw power, a potent mix that sent her senses reeling. His grip tightened on her thighs, grinding her against the growing heat between them, the friction sending waves of pleasure radiating through her body.

She gasped into his mouth, a soft, involuntary sound of surrender, and he swallowed it whole, his body pressing her deeper into the cold stone, his heat melting through her defenses, turning them both into something reckless, something feral.

His hands roamed, fingers dragging up her thighs, his claws leaving the lightest scrape. Just enough to tease. Just enough to make her body arch against him, seeking more.

Orin's lips trailed down her throat, his teeth grazing, nipping, his breath scalding against her sensitive skin. "Tell me to stop."

Seraphina exhaled a breathless laugh, fingers tangling in his hair. She tugged, forcing his gaze back to hers.

"Not a chance in hell." Something dark flashed in his golden eyes. Something wicked.

Then—

Something flickered in the air—a pressure, heavy and watchful. Seraphina barely noticed it, too focused on the fire burning between them. But Orin did. A shudder ran down his spine, something other coiling in the shadows.

The ground shook, a low, violent tremor that rattled the chamber walls, sending cracks splintering through the ancient stone. The air vibrated with an unseen energy, a palpable shift in the atmosphere.

Orin froze, his body still pressed against hers, his lips still locked on hers. Seraphina's nails dug into his shoulders, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

The very air changed, a deep, ancient pulse of energy surging through the room, coiling around them, pressing between them, a silent, unseen observer.

Orin bared his fangs, a low, menacing snarl escaping his lips. His body still caged hers, but his gaze flicked to the ceiling, his eyes narrowed, his expression dark.

"The Underworld is watching," he growled, his voice strained, furious. "They don't like this."

Seraphina licked her lips, still breathless, her eyes locking with his. "Let it watch," she whispered, her voice laced with defiance. "They can watch all they want."

But another tremor rippled through the stone, stronger this time, an unseen force prying them apart, forcing them to break their heated embrace. The unseen energy was pushing them away from each other.

Orin took a sharp, ragged breath, his fists clenching at his sides, the muscles in his arms twitching with restrained power. His golden eyes burned as they met hers, a silent promise of unfinished business.

"This isn't over," he promised, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Not by a long shot."

Seraphina smirked, her pulse still hammering in her ears, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his touch. "I'd be disappointed if it was," she purred, her eyes gleaming with a predatory light.

THE END OF CHAPTER 8