The tension in the air was thick enough to taste.
Max did not speak. He simply turned, one arm sliding possessively around Rosalia's waist, the other curling around Agnia's, and began walking. The two dragon-hybrid women stayed pressed against him, their steps perfectly matched to his. Neither tried to pull away. The walk through the upper corridors of the citadel was silent except for the soft rustle of robes and the faint, hungry sound of their breathing.
He led them up a short flight of stairs that curved inward. At the top stood a pair of tall crystal doors, black as midnight but threaded with veins of deep purple and gold that pulsed faintly at his approach.
The chamber beyond was circular, wide, and private in a way the rest of the citadel was not. Soft light glowed from the walls and ceiling.
And in the exact center, raised on a low platform of the same black crystal, sat the bed.
