As Hot as Fire, As Cold as Ice: CH 6- The Other Man
Summary: Jon bursts into Dany's room, and she finally confronts the other man. Later, she meets her step-sister Cersei knowing her family had set a trap for her. But she is prepared to turn the tables. Will she succeed and finally cut ties with the Targaryens?
Preview: The door banged open, startling Dany awake. Jon rushed in, looking determined and wild.
“Jon?” Dany rasped, her heart still racing as the storm outside continued to rage and light the dark room in sporadic bursts.
He stopped at the side of her bed, staring at her, his eyes rimmed in red and exhaustion.
“It’s so late. Why are you here?” she asked, clutching the blanket to her chest.
“I want you,” he stated in his rough northern brogue.
He looked like a wolf ready to pounce upon his prey. Dany would be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on. A moment later, Jon was climbing on top of her and pinning her to the bed. His lips crashed against hers.
Somehow, it felt different from before, less gentle and playful, more aggressive and needy. If she didn’t know better, she would think they were two different men. One hand tangled in her hair, the other wound around her neck.
Dany pushed him away, confused by the sudden intrusion and the shift in his personality.
“What’s wrong?” Jon asked. “Don’t you want to be my woman?” After a moment, and noticing her hesitation, he accused, “Or am I not as good as him?”
“You’re right. You’re not,” Dany replied honestly, not used to the cold and rigid mask he wore being the one to come to her bed. “He kisses me better than you do, and you're not as gentle.”
He didn’t like that for reasons she didn’t understand. The hand around her neck tightened as he bent down and kissed her again despite her resistance. He nibbled on her jawline and bit her neck. When he pulled away, he stared at the hickey he left earlier that day, panting and angry.
Was it really two different men? The way he spoke, his anger, and the actions she had seen pointed to yes. And now their styles in kissing were so vastly different.
“Jon. I have to ask you. Did you meet me at the bottom of the steps this morning? Before I went to have tea with your grandmother?”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her up, moving away from her and giving her and himself some space, clearly agitated.
“What are you talking about? I never came downstairs this morning. I was in the study.”
If the man in front of her was Jon, then who was the man who called her his queen? Who was the man who came to sleep in her bed with her each night? Had she truly cheated on her husband?
She remembered the events of this morning, of who she believed was Jon leaving a hickey on her neck, and her returning the favor. Quickly, she sat up, grabbing the side of Jon’s shirt and ripping it open. A red mark of her teeth, bruising around it as she feasted, contrasted brightly against his pale skin.
“It was you. So why would you deny it?”
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