The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

He looked down at her for a long moment.

Between her legs, he could see the glittering traces of his cum mixed with her own.

She really was magic. In every way.

He gently lifted her and arranged her properly on the bed, careful not to wake her.

Her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of deep sleep.

She looked peaceful. She looked beautiful. She looked completely his.

He moved to the bathroom and found a basin, filled it with water from the pitcher, and grabbed soft cloths.

When he returned to her, he began to gently clean her body.

He wiped her skin with gentle hands, with reverent hands, with hands that worshipped even in this simple task.

Between her legs, he was extra careful, whispering apologies to her sleeping form for any discomfort she might feel when she woke.

"Forgive me, my witch," he whispered, his lips brushing against her inner thigh. "You’ll get used to it. Soon, you’ll come to crave it. We’ll make sure of it"

He washed her breasts, her stomach, her neck, every inch of her skin.

Every touch was tender, worshipful, possessive in a way that was completely different from the intensity of before.

When he finished, he discarded the cloth and the water and returned to bed.

He gathered her into his arms, positioning her against his chest, her head on his shoulder.

And then he simply held her.

***

He looked around the chamber.

And realized it was in complete disarray.

Objects were scattered across the floor where they had fallen from floating in the air. The curtains were torn to shreds. The windows were completely shattered, cold night air rushing in through the broken glass, carrying the scent of her magic with it.

There were marks on the walls where her magic had surged. The bedside table had been knocked over. Books were scattered everywhere.

The fire in the hearth had burned so hot that ash was everywhere, coating the stone, creating a fine dust that hung in the air.

And it made him smile.

A deep, satisfied smile that held absolute amusement and possession.

"Well," he said softly to himself, careful not to wake her, "if this is what happens every time we have sex, I’m going to need to move everything breakable out of this chamber."

The thought made him chuckle softly, a low sound that resonated in his chest.

But then his expression grew more serious.

If she had this much magic, why did she enter the palace?

Knowing fully well what the royal family forbids from her kind.

The only logical explanation would be that....She didn’t know. She had no idea. No idea what she was.

No idea that her magic had just exploded through the palace, no idea that objects were probably still falling outside, no idea that the broken windows were a testament to the power she contained.

His realization deepened.

She’s a witch. A powerful witch. And she doesn’t even seam to understand her own magic.

But he knows. And he would teach her. He would show her. He would help her understand exactly what she was.

Every time she reached climax, her magic responded. Every time she lost control, the magic broke free.

He is going to explore this. He is going to learn every way her magic responded. He is going to map out every inch of her power and claim every bit of it as his.

His smile returned, broader this time, more satisfied, more absolutely certain.

"My little witch," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "My powerful, beautiful, absolutely incredible little witch. And you’re all mine."

He looked at the chaos around them with complete satisfaction.

This was what happened when his witch lost control.

And he was absolutely obsessed with the idea of making her lose control again and again and again with the help of his brothers....of cause.

He held her against him, listening to her breathe, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

The candles burned down slowly as the hours passed. The fire in the hearth reduced to embers as the night deepened.

***

Through the shattered windows, cold night air rushed in, carrying the scent of her magic....honeysuckle and something ancient, something primal, something that smelled like power.

But sleep didn’t come easily for Kaelen.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her magic. Felt her power. Remembered the way she came, the way she screamed, the way she gave herself completely to him.

So he simply held her and waited for dawn.

He spent the hours planning. Thinking about what came next. Thinking about how to protect her once the world knew what she was.

Because the world WOULD know. It was only a matter of time.

She was too powerful to hide. Her magic was too bright, too evident, too absolutely incredible to conceal.

And he would be damned if he let anyone take her from him.

He pressed a kiss to her hair and held her tighter.

***

The sky beyond the shattered windows began to lighten.

Gray light crept into the chamber, revealing the full extent of the chaos they had created. Revealing objects scattered across the floor, the torn curtains, the shattered windows, the marks on the walls where magic had surged and danced.

He had held her through the entire night, unwilling to let her go, unable to imagine ever letting her go.

And as the sky lightened toward dawn, he was still holding her, still watching her sleep, still planning everything he would do to her when she woke.

But just as he was about to allow himself a moment of rest, just as his eyes were beginning to close....

A knock came at the door.

Kaelen’s entire body went rigid.

He had not wanted this. Had not wanted the world to intrude on this moment, on this perfect, incredible, absolutely magical moment that he had just experienced with her.

But duty was duty.

"Enter," he called out, his voice sharp with the irritation of being interrupted.

The door opened, and Lysander stepped inside.

The servant’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the state of the chamber....the shattered windows, the scattered objects, the torn curtains, the absolute chaos that surrounded the bed where his king lay holding the ward.

Lysander bowed immediately, his expression remaining professional even as his eyes registered shock.

"My King," Lysander said formally, "His Majesty King Draeven requests your presence in his office. He says it is urgent."