Velmora's whisper still hung in the salt air when her tail tightened around him again. It wasn't just an embrace anymore. It was a slow, teasing rhythm—like a wave sliding over stone, pulling back only to return. Her red scales dragged along Nathan's thigh, up to his waist, then down again, leaving a cold trail that somehow made his skin prickle with heat.
Nathan drew a deep breath. Velmora's mouth stayed on his neck, unhurried. Her tongue traced the vein standing out there, then she bit down softly—not to hurt him, only to mark him. One smooth hand crept across his chest, fingers pressing into muscle still tight with exhaustion.
"You're still warm," she murmured, her voice low, almost a sigh. "Even though the night wind cuts."
Nathan gave a small, hoarse laugh. "That's because you're pressed against me."
