Semua Bab Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire : Bab 101 - Bab 110

The workshop smelled of hot metal and burnt wood. Sparks flew with every strike of the hammer, hitting the bloodhound fang just right. My arms ached, but I didn’t care. Every tap shaped it closer to what I wanted. Lachlan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. Watching. I didn’t look up. Didn’t want him seeing how wired I was just from hammering a piece of fang. “You get lost in it every time, don’t you?” I grunted, hammering harder. “Yeah, so what?” He stepped closer, brushing against my shoulder. Heat that had nothing to do with fire pressed into me. “You feel that, don’t you? The pull?” “Yeah… I feel it,” I said, keeping my voice rough, trying not to sound… like I was feeling it too much. His hands slid over mine, adjusting the fang. “Let me. Let me be part of it. Don’t fight it. You’re calling me, Zenthos. I can feel it.” I swallowed. Couldn’t stop my chest from pounding. Every hammer strike felt

The dungeon floor was slick with blood and sweat, not just from the fight, but from us. Lachlan’s hands were on me again, but this time, not holding me back, guiding, claiming, pressing every inch. My cock throbbed, hard, slick, aching to be filled, to be taken, to take.“You think you can handle me now?” he growled, voice low, heavy, brushing teeth against my neck. “After all you’ve done, all you’ve swung… you’re still mine, Zenthos.”I shoved him back just enough to meet his gaze. “Not just yours.” My voice was rough, low, desperate, matching the heat in my chest. “I’m claiming you too.”And we crashed together, hips pressing, bodies slick, sweat and heat mingling. I shoved him against the wall, teeth scraping, hands gripping, cock slamming into him, hard, raw, unrelenting. Lachlan didn’t fight back,.he met me, pressed, pulled, groaned, and I felt it, his own hunger, his own obsession feeding off me, as I fed off him.I yanked his pants down, th

The dungeon rumbled. Dust fell from the ceiling, the heat from molten rock and sulfur thick in the air. A dragon’s roar shook the walls, wings slicing through the smoke like knives. I gritted my teeth, gripping Lachlan’s hilt, feeling the familiar pull of his hunger vibrating through me.“Shit…” I muttered, adjusting my stance. “This thing’s… massive.”Lachlan hummed low, almost a growl. “…Massive, but slow. We’ll work together. Focus, Zenthos.”I didn’t have time to argue. The dragon’s tail smashed into the stone floor, sending shards flying. I dove, narrowly avoiding the swipe, and swung Lachlan in a wide arc. The blade bit deep, screaming as it drank from the air, channeling every ounce of my strength.The dragon roared again, fire spitting from its jaws. I rolled, feeling the heat brush my arm, and kept swinging. Each cut I made with Lachlan was precise, each strike feeding his hunger, each thrust of power leaving my own muscles screaming.

The dragon’s core burned where the old crystal used to sit, pulsing faintly, stubborn, demanding. I gripped Lachlan’s hilt, feeling the edge hum against my palm. Half of him was still a sword, but I knew, he wasn’t done. Not until the core was full, not until I had him back in human form.I tightened my grip. “Come on… work with me,” I muttered. Every word was half prayer, half growl. I didn’t care if anyone heard. Didn’t care if I sounded insane. All that mattered was him. My obsession, my fire, everything funneled into getting him back.The first quest was low-level, goblins again, but that didn’t matter. Every strike, every swing of the blade against their skulls, every blood spray, it all pulsed into the core. I felt Lachlan shiver, faint hum of him answering my hands, faint pull in my chest. It wasn’t lust this time. Not really.I crouched, watching the last goblin crumple under Lachlan’s edge. “You feel that, don’t you?”

Geoff sobbed quietly over the final chapter of his favorite story. Sir Keenan, the fearless knight he’d adored for months, had fallen. His chest ached, throat raw. “I… I just wanted more,” he whispered into the empty room.Then a shift, a shimmer of light in his bedroom, and suddenly, the air felt different, charged. The warmth of a presence pressed near his bed. Geoff froze.Keenan stood there, tall and armored as he had in the story, except now his surroundings were strange, soft bed under his boots, strange glowing rectangles on the walls. His dark eyes narrowed. He drew his sword instinctively, slicing at the TV. “Sorcery!” he shouted. “This world is cursed!”The phone rang. Keenan flinched. “Artifact! What devilry is this?!” He swung the sword again, narrowly missing the corner of Geoff’s desk.Geoff leapt forward, heart hammering. He grabbed Keenan’s arm, holding him back. “No! Don’t… please, don’t destroy anything!”Keena