Outcast

Chapter 33

---Jethro's POV---

Fingers tangling into Lane's hair, amusement sparked through my body as he arched into the slight touch. Purring like a sweet, content kitten that was begging for more attention, more affection.

It was entertaining to see the slightest reaction to a fragment of attention. How his pupils expanded whenever my nails scraped over his scalp, how his throat vibrated with a soft purr whenever I deepened the touch.

A purr that never seemed to end, continuing by simply sitting in my lap. Providing a welcomed and tantalizing distraction that diverted my attention from this boring meeting towards my lovely gem of a mate.

This meeting with the Council was slowly growing too long. Too easy to grow frustrated at the lack of progress, at the revelations of what's happening within the Pride lands.

Of course, Lady Morona had only just sent out her eight-legged spies. It would take a bit before they would report back to her.

Because this investigation would need careful planning and a detailed execution, in order to avoid the Pride Elders from covering up any evidence.

My dragon snarled deeply, pacing as it started to grow more irritated. Each little motion that Lane made, even if it was something as simple as bunting his cheek against my jaw, released his tantalizing scent.

A scent that was growing more alluring, spicier with each tick of the clock. With every second that passed and approached Lane's soon to be Heat cycle.

Even the slight wiggling as he tried to find a more comfortable position in my lap, was more than a simple distraction.

Lane was temptation incarnate.

The continuous barrage of his pheromones in small but tempting doses was slowly putting me on edge. Because I had to constantly wrestle my inner beast back down, had to tell it to not pounce on our delectable little mate.

Because my dragon had no qualms with the idea of throwing Lane on the massive table. To make our little mate squirm and beg so sweetly, shivering and quaking as I gave him pleasure to the point where he didn't know whether to beg for mercy or beg for more.

Logically, I knew this was the Breeding frenzy speaking. Brought on by Lane's fast approaching heat, judging by how he was hyperreactive to the smallest touch.

How he too was obsessed with my scent. Analyzing it delicately, nostrils flaring as he took in whiffs of the air. Even letting his mouth open slightly to detect more of my own pheromones and scent.

Even now, with multiple eyes on us, Lane seemed pleasantly oblivious, arching into the slight scratching of my nails over his scalp.

The small puffs of pheromones that released in the air as he rubbed his jaw and cheeks against my body. Scent marking me, boldly laying claim on me in front of the entire Council.

It only reaffirmed the fact that Lane was my true mate. Because if anyone else had tried to lay claim on me, be it physically or by scent, they would've been painfully and brutally be put in their place.

That is, if my dragon didn't decide to grace them with a slow and drawn out, agonizing death.

It had happened before. Several individuals on separate occasions actually, be it male or female, who were either too confident or too stupid to realize to mortal mistake they were committing.

You didn't claim a dragon. That would be the same as stating that you held ownership over such a powerful being, that you thought a dragon was beneath you.