Freedom
1640 Words
Elle POV
He was far kinder than the stories claimed.
The Dragon Prince — the monster said to tear men apart with a careless swipe — had held me, fed me, spoken to me gently.
Could this really be the same creature feared across kingdoms?
Sleep swallowed me whole, deep and unnaturally warm, until the scent of fresh bread drifted toward me. A tray slid through a small slot in the cage, the metal scraping softly against stone. I sat up slowly, skin prickling against the cold floor.
My gaze swept the dim room.
Restraints gleamed from every wall — cuffs, steel bars, anchored chains. Each one a reminder of what I had agreed to.
The attached washroom was small and sterile, no mirrors, smelling faintly of antiseptic and something sharp, almost magical.
Then the collar buzzed.
My stomach dropped. Despite his earlier kindness, instinct urged me to fear what would come next. I slipped the blindfold over my eyes, breaths coming shallow and quick.
The heavy door creaked open. Shut.
His presence filled the room like heat rolling off embers.
“Stand, little wolf.”
His voice was colder than last night — controlled, strained.
I obeyed. My body trembled, but I obeyed.
His hands brushed my shirt — his shirt — and pulled it off my body. The faint scrape of fabric falling to the floor made my skin prickle.
“You tremble,” he murmured, breath close enough to ghost along my collarbone, “yet you agreed to this.”
A warm, calloused hand slid along my arm, guiding rather than forcing, but still firm.
My breath hitched as he removed the last of my clothing — not roughly, but with a kind of deliberate ownership that made heat pulse low in my belly.
“When you’re with me,” he breathed, “clothing won’t be needed.”
The air crackled around us, thick with something I couldn’t name — danger, desire, fear.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
He lifted me effortlessly, his body radiating heat. I felt the chair beneath me before I even heard the metal groan under his adjustments. Steel circled my wrists above my head; the scrape of chains made my heartbeat thunder.
The chair shifted, tilting slightly, placing me on my back.
His fingers traced the shape of my breast — slow, testing — making my breath stutter.
He secured me with quiet, practiced movements.
Cold cuffs held my ankles.
Leather straps tightened across my thighs.
I was spread open, restrained, exposed in ways that made fear and anticipation twist together inside me.
Silence settled, heavy and suffocating.
“Now,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “tell me why you signed yourself to me.”
“Freedom,” I whispered. The word felt fragile. Small.
“You chose this — a stranger, a cursed man — over a life of safety in this kingdom?”
There was disbelief in his tone, almost… hurt.
“Rogues don’t get a life,” I breathed.
A deep growl rolled from him, vibrating through the metal beneath me.
Something pressed against my lips — cold metal — a gag.
He slid it into place with slow finality, stealing my ability to speak.
And then—
A shift in the air.
A presence between my thighs.
Heat.
His breath.
The faintest brush of fingers along sensitive skin.
A sound escaped me, muffled by the gag—fear, yes, but something else too.
He paused.
“Good girl,” he whispered, voice shivering with restraint. “If this alone excites you…”
His breath touched my stomach, my hip.
“…then what comes next will give me what I need.”
A wave of heat crashed through me — too intense, too fast — and I arched against the restraints. The chair creaked loudly. My breath broke into frantic gasps as sensation built, deep and overwhelming.
His voice ghosted over me, velvet and wicked:
“Are you fighting the restraints, little wolf?”
I whimpered — desperately — the answer torn from my lungs in a muffled cry.
“I didn’t want to punish you tonight,” he murmured, regret threading through his hunger. “But you’re making this… difficult.”
Something clicked.
A device hummed alive near my skin.
Pleasure and heat and pressure collided — too much — too fast.
“Shh,” he whispered, voice trembling with the effort to hold himself back. “Just let go.”
The world blurred into sensation.
Then—
His voice, rough and ragged:
“I need more.”
Hands moved quickly. Chains loosened. Strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me from the chair. My body felt boneless, trembling, as he carried me to the bed.
“I’ve never wanted anyone,” he breathed against my ear. “Never wanted to touch a Doll. Never wanted anything… until you.”
The bed cradled me as he secured my wrists in front of me with softer restraints this time. His fingers brushed between my thighs — gentle, exploratory — making my breath catch.
A finger slick with my own warmth pressed lightly to my lips.
His mouth followed — hot, commanding — stealing the breath from my lungs.
“No,” I whimpered against him when something large, unbearably warm pressed low between my thighs.
He froze.
“I won’t enter you,” he whispered, voice thick with need. “Not unless you ask me to, little wolf.”
He exhaled shakily, his body trembling with restraint as he held himself above me.
“It’s just… this,” he murmured. “Just enough to stop the madness.”
Heat pressed against me, heavy and intimate, but not breaching — a torment of want and denial.
The world faded as his breathing turned desperate, ragged—
And then everything went still.
---
Blake POV
The air was thick with her scent — sweet, warm, devastating.
It wrapped around me like smoke, sinking into my bones, feeding the curse clawing beneath my skin.
She trembled beneath me, her body slick with heat and fear and something far more dangerous.
Her small whimper almost undid me.
Gods.
I had never come apart from mere touch, mere closeness — but she wasn’t mere anything.
She was fire.
She was softness.
She was mine.
When release hit, a shudder tore through me — violent, punishing — leaving me gripping the bedframe to keep from collapsing on top of her.
“I’m taking you to the bath,” I rasped, the words scraping from my throat.
Her breath trembled. “Wash me,” she whispered, small and breakable.
My chest tightened.
The cool porcelain of the tub kissed her skin as I lowered her into warm, fragrant water. She stiffened at first, then softened when my hands brushed her shoulders.
“Relax, little wolf,” I whispered. “This is how you’ll be washed… from now on.”
“Why?”
Her voice shook — fear and curiosity woven together.
“Why what?”
“Why are you gentle?”
A low laugh escaped me.
“Should I not be? You’re my doll… and fragile. You should not break.”
Her breath hitched.
“I-I was told you were a monster.”
“Many call me that,” I murmured, running my thumb along her jaw. “And perhaps I am. Keeping you like this… perhaps it proves them right.”
“A monster wouldn’t treat me like this,” she whispered. “You do this because you’re cursed. I… I feel bad for you.”
Her compassion hit me harder than any blow.
“You feel bad for the one holding you prisoner?” I growled softly.
“No one ever wanted me,” she whispered. “But you do. And if I can help you… even a little… then I’m glad.”
I paused, hand hovering above her bruised wrist. A growl tore from my chest.
I unlocked her cuffs. Freed her wrists.
Removed the collar.
“Just keep the blindfold on,” I said roughly. “For now.”
She flinched slightly when metal clicked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Her lie tasted like pain.
I lifted her hand into mine.
Her skin was soft.
Her pulse jittery.
Too many bruises.
Too small.
My fury simmered.
“I will never hurt you,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her damp hair. “Not ever.”
Heated silence enveloped us.
I dried her slowly, carefully, like she might vanish if I rushed.
When I carried her to my bed, she froze. “This is different.”
“It’s my bed,” I said. “You’ll sleep here tonight.”
“Is that… okay?” she whispered.
“Yes, little wolf. Stay close to me and your strength will return.”
“I thought only mates could heal each other,” she murmured.
“I’m a dragon,” I said softly, drawing her against my chest. “Different rules.”
Her small body fit perfectly against mine.
Her breath warmed my skin.
My heart, long dormant, thudded painfully.
“Why can’t I see you?” she asked.
“If you did…” I swallowed. “You’d never rest in my arms again.”
Silence.
Then—
“Why were you cursed?”
I told her.
About the war.
About the attack.
About the innocent blood.
About the witch’s dying curse — the madness that devoured me every nightfall.
And she listened.
When I finished, she whispered, “I’m sorry. For what you went through.”
A rogue wolf.
Apologizing for my sins.
Gods.
I held her closer.
“Sleep, little one,” I murmured. “I’m here.”
Her breath evened.
Her body relaxed.
And for the first time in decades…
…the night passed quietly.
- Writer
