Chapter 30: _ Cocky Vaela

Vaela Bertram [Step-daughter of the Dragon King]

Walking through the Dragon Royals’ compound with two maids dragging my trunk behind me was exhausting work... mostly because my sister was screaming at me from across the courtyard.

"Where the hell do you think you’re going?" Veyra barked.

She stomped over with a face that was completely slathered in pearl-clay mask that cracked around her mouth every time she opened it.

I rolled my eyes. "To dress up for the ball."

"Our quarters are that way, you idiot," she snapped, pointing aggressively toward the south wing. "Why are you heading toward the master suite?"

"Because I’m getting ready in Remus’s room."

Veyra gasped, her clay mask flaking off onto her robe. "Are you serious? Sometimes you act like he’s your damn twin and not me! How could you go dress in his room when you know I need you to cross-check every single piece of jewelry I put on? Who is going to make sure my gown doesn’t clash with my core aura?"

"Wardmother Olda is in your room," I offered with a sweet smile. "She can help you."

Veyra stared at me like I’d just told her to go dress in a pigsty. "Olda?! She’s ancient! That woman was born before fashion was invented! She has zero taste, Vaela!"

Olda had followed us all the way from the Dragon Realm to this dreary academy, acting like our second mother, but her idea of formalwear involved heavy furs and wool.

"Good luck!" I laughed, stepping past her.

"You wicked bitch!" Veyra shrieked after me. "I hope your corset rips!"

I ignored her bickering and kept walking. Tonight was going to be the night, and no amount of Veyra’s screeching was going to ruin it.

Yesterday, I had snuck into Remus’s private study and caught him painting. I knew Remus better than anyone in the world. He was a man of absolute discipline, principle, and an overwhelming sense of duty.

He had painted over a hundred canvases in his life, but he had never painted a woman. He had never even looked at one.

So when I saw the canvas resting on his easel—the most breathtaking silhouette of a girl—I knew instantly.

It was me.

He was probably just too reserved to admit how much he cared, but I knew the truth. I knew the quiet struggles behind his cold exterior. Remus was the best man I had ever met in my life, and I would do whatever it took to keep him.

I took the small jewelry chest from my maids, dismissed them with a wave of my hand, and marched up to his door.

I gave a brief knock and pushed the door open without waiting for an answer.

And I was so glad I did.

Remus had just stepped out of his adjoining bath chamber. His long silver hair was dripping wet, droplets of water tracing down the broad expanse of his chest, his cut abdomen, and the sharp line of his hips. The only thing covering him was a ridiculously small washcloth wrapped low around his waist.

The sight froze the breath in my throat. There wasn’t a man in any realm who could rival his physique or his godlike face.

Remus stopped dead, his brow furrowing. "Vaela? Do you two ever give me an hour of privacy?"

His voice jolted me back to reality. I forced my usual playful smile back onto my face before I could get caught staring.

"I’m here to dress up," I said casually, setting my trunk down by his wardrobe.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. "Why can’t you dress in your own room with Veyra?"

"Because you need me here to help you dress up, obviously."

Remus grabbed a fresh tunic from his shelf. "I really don’t."

"You do," I insisted, taking a step toward him... and that’s when my eyes caught the easel tucked into the corner of the room.

My heart skipped a beat. It was another unfinished painting.

This one showed the back of a little girl. Her posture was small, fragile, and utterly distinct.

A flood of absolute certainty rushed through me. Only I held his soft spot this much. Only I occupied his mind enough for him to spend hours painting me from memory.

Smiles breaking across my face, I strutted over to him, reaching out to catch his arm. "I have to braid your hair like I always do. Come here–"

I tugged his arm a little too fast.

Remus shifted to dodge me, but my fingers accidentally caught the edge of the tiny washcloth wrapped around his waist.

With one yank, the cloth slipped completely free and hit the floor. My gaze dropped before he could even realize it, catching the full, uninhibited sight of his raw, powerful length in all its unclad glory.

Sweet, good old flame god...was it long?

I knew he was breathtaking, powerful, and impeccably built, but I had no idea he was packed like that down there. He really was an all-around masterpiece of a man.

Remus moved instantly, lunging down to snatch the cloth off the floor, but the momentum of his sudden shift sent his heavy length brushing directly against the side of my flushed cheek.

The heat of his skin sent a jolt straight to my core. I froze, paralyzed, feeling like I had just inhaled some kind of potent contraband that locked me in a total trance.

A slick warmth started pooling between my thighs as desire hit me in drugging waves.

Before he could pull away, I snatched the washcloth right out of his fingers.

"Oh! I—let me help you!" I squeaked, faking an embarrassed panic to cover my true motive.

I leaned in, using the flimsy excuse to wrap the cloth back around his waist... only to deliberately let my bare fingers trail along the thick, throbbing length of his cock.

Remus let out a sharp gasp.

"Vaela—what the!"

He grabbed my wrists and shoved me back, hard enough that I stumbled two steps into the easel.