Naomi Lucas

Everything about him is a weapon, a used weapon. One that has proven itself again and again in the heat of war and has come out triumphant. His body shows the brutality of battle, of war, dinged with old wounds, old markings, honed to a comforting yet frighteningly terrifying perfection.

"Vagan," Shelby gasps, her hands gripping my shoulders, nails biting into my scales. "What are you doing?"
I clasps her chin, sliding my free hand over her front and cupping one of her breasts. "I am reminding you who is the alpha here. And that I have caught you. That you are mine."

A touch.
A simple touch.
Has given me life.