Page 16 of Dragons' Future

Hauck’s tongue strokes mine one final time before he gives Quinton a crude gesture and yields me to Cyril.

Instead of pulling me into an embrace, Cyril grips my shoulders, his deep blue eyes intense on mine. “You are far too brave and too giving, nymph. Promise me that no matter what happens in that arena, you’ll put yourself first?”

“My job is literally to stay low and hidden until you call for me.” I smile for his sake. “Not exactly a dangerous assignment.”

Cyril’s brows narrow, his clamping scales betraying that he doesn’t buy my nonchalance for a second. “I mean it, Kit. You are the future of the dragons. You are my mate. No heroics. Not today. Please.”

“I’ll be careful,” I promise.

My mate looks at me for a moment longer then lets out a long breath and envelopes me in his arms. I feel Cyril’s heart beating steadily against mine, anchoring us together. When he draws back, Tavias is there to take his place.

I feel his mind brush against mine before his fingers touch my skin.

Can you hear me? I think toward him.

“You are ready for this,” Tavias says. “We all are.”

Well, that answers my question. Not that I should be surprised. Mind speaking hadn’t worked for me again since the bear’s den.

“You tried mind speaking?” Tavias guesses.

“No.”

He gives me a knowing look, then kisses my forehead. “These things take time.”

“Luckily we have that in abundance.” The frustrating thing is that mind speech came so naturally and easily when we lay together, and yet the minute I actually need the skill it’s nowhere to be found. "If I could just?—"

"Don't," Tavias orders sharply. He takes my chin into his hand, his grip as unyielding as his amethyst eyes. Despite the familiar scent of evening fire, of pine and hickory, the Tavias standing before me now is the Massa’eve general. "You are what you are. And you are enough. Understood?"

I nod hesitantly and Tavias squeezes my shoulder in approval, his face softening. “In truth, wildcat, you are more than enough. You are glorious. And soon all of Massa’eve will know it.”

I nod bravely.

“Stay safe,” Tavias commands.

“You too.”

“Always.”

“Let’s go.” Quinton says, impatient as he shoulders between Tavias and me. He is to escort Lee’s pack and me to the citadel, and looks ready to shove us bodily into the cold if we linger another moment.

Darren gives Lee a final kiss and exaggerates a bow in Quinton’s direction. “At your leisure, my prince.”

Quinton’s lips pull back, showing his canines.

Hauck snorts.

Right. “Let’s go.” I step outside, and suddenly all four males surround me in a protective circle. “I’m?—”

“You are our queen,” Darren says. All hints of amusement are gone from his voice now. “You will not come to harm on our watch.”

For the next two hours we trek a winding path that loops around the citadel. The worst of the storm has settled and one of the males nudges a small wind to cover our tracks in the snow. When a pungent scent hits me hard enough to make me gag, Quinton quickens his pace. For a moment, I think he wants to get past the dead rotten thing as swiftly as I do, but I soon realize he is leading us directly toward the stench.

"It's an abandoned sewer system," Quinton says curtly. "When the plague swept through here a few centuries back, the priests used it to remove the less savory waste from the citadel."

I hold my sleeve up to cover my nose and mouth. “You didn’t mention this part.”

Quinton moves a slab of stone aside, uncovering an entrance to the underground sewer and unleashing even more stench into the air. Stars. I didn’t think I’d ever long for my human senses, but being less aware of my surroundings would have been nice just now. Trying not to breathe, I follow the descent down to the uneven floor of the sewer.

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