Page 77 of Firebird
“Then we are bound together, as you said before.”
“I suppose we are,” she admitted in a whisper, her mouth muffled against my chest.
After a moment of indulging in her affection, I pulled back, sliding my palm around her nape beneath her hair and tipping her chin up with my thumb.
“I am sorry, Malina. For the plight of your people, for the death of your family, for all those who suffer beneath the yoke of Rome.” I coasted my thumb up the silken line of her jaw. “But know this. We are not all the same. There are many dragons who do not agree with my uncle and how he rules. How so many before him have ruled.”
She wrapped her small fingers around my wrist. “Then they’d better come out of hiding and stand beside you.”
“They will. They all will. When it’s time to strike.” I coasted my free hand up and down her back soothingly, keeping her body close to mine.
She smiled.
“What is it?” I asked.
“This soft Julian. I don’t recognize him. Or see him often.”
“It’s dangerous for me to be anything but the Conqueror outside this tent. Outside my home. Only for you can I be this Julian,” I whispered, bending and lowering my mouth to hers.
She tilted her mouth up, lifted onto her toes, and met me partway, our lips brushing in a soft exploration, different than our first kiss. I wanted her to know that I could be tender for her—soft. I touched my tongue lightly to hers, brushing with slow, exploring strokes. While my heart hammered in my chest, my desire yearning for more, I kept my hold gentle. I kissed her with the reverence and deep affection that I felt, wanting her to know she could trust me.
I wasn’t the brute she thought all dragons were. There were many others like me. And she was right. There would be a time—soon—when we’d all need to come out of hiding.
For now, we simply had to return to Rome, and I had to face my uncle.
After a moment, I went back to simply holding her. She pressed her cheek to my sternum, panting softly.
“Before you came, all of this was easier,” I admitted.
“What do you mean?”
“I never cared about losing my life.”
“But now you do?”
“No.” I hugged her close. “I care about losing yours.”
XXII
JULIAN
Upon arriving home, I’d let Malina suture my wound yet again while she glared and muttered curses about stubborn men. Shifting had pulled all of them loose, of course. I knew that it would, but I wouldn’t let anyone take her back but me. I’d waited until all but Trajan had left the encampment to be sure we weren’t seen.
After she’d stitched me up, I bathed and changed into a regal toga in deepest red, then set off on Volkan to the imperial palace. It was dark when Volkan trotted up the winding path bordered by tall cypress trees.
I slowed Volkan to a walk near the stables, hardening every part of myself, locking my emotions for Malina into the chamber where my dragon slept. I wore the mask of the Coldhearted Conqueror by the time the stable boy Jovan stepped forward. This was the only version of me that my uncle could ever see.
My wound smarted as I dismounted and handed Jovan the reins, but I kept all of the discomfort off my face. There could be no sign of weakness.
Walking briskly up the marble steps, I marched past the praetorians at the door and stopped at another guard standing outside my uncle’s parlor, where he usually met with his generals and politicians.
The guard saluted, then said, “He is not in his parlor, Legatus.”
“Where is he?”
His expression remained stoic when he replied, “At the pit.”
I dipped a nod and walked on, cursing to all the gods in my mind. Seeing my aunt in her current state tore a piece of my heart away every time.
