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I relish the subtle heat that always emanates from her skin when her emotions run high, the precursor to her magic flaring. In response, the coolness of my own nature rises to meet it, creating that perfect balance of fire and ice between us, with neither overwhelming the other.

“It’s the other way around, Duchess.” My lips dance across hers. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. But I’m going to spend the rest of my life striving to be worthy of your love. Worshipping you. Showing you just how perfect every inch of you really is.”

“Mmm,” her eyes flutter shut, “every inch of me, huh? I can’t wait to learn what that entails.”

“It involves tasting, sucking, kissing, pleasuring. Making you come so hard the only thing you can remember is my name as you scream it.” My hands slide down her back, tracing the ridges where her wings emerge when she calls them forth. “But don’t let me bore you with my pretty words.”

“Smartass.” She shivers at my touch, arches closer, and opens those beautiful eyes.

The desire in them—no, the need—is undeniable. It mirrors my own.

“Careful.” I guide her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and we sink together onto the plush surface. “Wouldn’t want to have to punish you instead of worship you for that sassy mouth of yours.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Keep smarting off, and you’ll find out.” I bite the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to startle a yelp out of her.

Her silky dress rustles beneath my palms as I explore the familiar curves of her body. Every time, each touch feels like a revelation. I plant kisses along her jaw, down the elegant column of her throat, and linger at the pulse point where I can feel her heart racing.

“I need you just as you are. Not as some court-crafted version of a queen.”

“Need me, hmm?” Her fingers tangle in my hair, guiding my mouth back to hers. “So you’ve said. Why don’t you stop talking and show me?”

I smile against her lips. This is my Lark. Commanding even in vulnerability, fierce even in surrender. “Take my clothes off, and I will.”

We quickly undress each other until we’re once again nestled in the bed, my body covering hers.

“Look at me.” When her eyes meet mine, I capture her gaze. “This is who you are. The woman I love. A warrior who loves without reservation, who fights despite fear, and who never backs down, even in the face of the gods. This is who Tirene needs. Not some practiced performer.” Swiveling my hips, I tease her. I trail against her opening, holding back when she arches and tries to capture me.

“Sterling…” The desperate yearning in her raspy voice is all I could ever hope for.

“The way you just said my name,” I stop teasing and bury myself in her, “that’s how much I always need you.

She answers with a moan, and the sweet sound fuels my burning desire for her. The world narrows to just the two of us as we settle into a rhythm, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

Time loses meaning in the charged atmosphere of our bedchamber. Each caress is both familiar and new, an affirmation that transcends words. I watch her every motion, every gasp, every time she bites her lip or twists her head and tangles her hair against the pillows.

My love. My queen. My warrior.

This woman is everything to me.

I feel the moment she lets go, surrendering not just to pleasure but to trust. Her fire magic flares, warming the air around us as she cries out my name. Skin hot against mine, she runs her nails down my shoulder to my back.

Her body trembles underneath me, moving with my thrusts. And as always, she doesn’t back down. Instead, she urges me on. Her knees clamp at my sides, body dancing upward to meet me as I follow her over the edge.

Limbs entwined, I keep her tucked to my chest while our breathing slows.

Her fingers trace idle patterns on my skin, following the lines of old battle scars. “Do you really think they’ll respect me more if I’m authentic?”

I press a kiss to her forehead. “I think they’ll fear you more. And in diplomacy, that’s often more valuable than respect.”

As Lark nudges closer to me, I make a silent vow.

I will never let her forget the incredible woman she truly is, even when the weight of the crown threatens to reshape her.

Chapter Eleven

After flying through half of the night, the dragons we’re riding bank right beneath us, their massive wings cutting through the air as we near Tír Ríoga. My knuckles whiten against the ridges of Ryu’s neck, not from fear of flying—that’s become as natural to me as breathing—but from the knowledge that I’ll soon have to speak.