Page 15 of Power of Draken

She leans back slightly, strands of arousal weaving in with her fear and apprehension. She is at my mercy. So why does it feel like it’s me who is at her mercy?

My voice drops, becoming gravely. “You left without leave. Without asking my permission.”

“Would you have given it?” There goes that terrible mouth of hers, not backing down even when a wiser being would.

“No.” I put my knees between Rowan’s, pushing her thighs apart. She resists,her cheeks blushing furiously when her flesh opens with a wet pop and heat pours from her, mixing with my own.

My cock pulses painfully inside my britches.

“Please,” Rowan whispers. Her plea is breathless.

“Please what?” I question, enjoying as her color rises again. Her mind and body are begging for very different outcomes. “Please don’t punish you?”

Another small delicious gasp.

“Too late for that.” I reach beneath her shirt- my shirt—and growl in approval as I find her bare beneath. With a rough pull, I yank Rowan’s backside to the edge of the table, and grip the inside of each thigh with my hands. The intoxicating scent of her arousal makes my heart pound. I lower my mouth to her slick folds, right atop the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex for her sex and -

The flap of draken wings yanks my mind back to where it belongs. I step back, giving Kyrian and Arianda more space to land in the clearing. Arianda’s dark green scales blend easily into the night forest, but still, Kyrian shouldn’t have taken the risk of riding without a good reason—and I don’t know of any right now. Eryndor’s forests and cliffs are as hospitable to draken as flame is to fish. It’s not just the thin high-altitude air, the murderous air tunnels, or the damn weather that goes from clear to thunder to fog within an hour. It’s the wards themselves. Not only do they strip the draken of basic magic to defend themselves, they mess with the ley lines, disrupting the draken’s sense of direction and balance.

It’s dangerous. Too dangerous. Not that a lecture would stop him.

“There ye are.” Kyrian dismounts with his usual grace. “Have ye been waiting long?”

Long enough to stop thinking with your brain, Ulyssus’s mental voice chuffs in my mind. So, yes.

I shift my weight, trying to discreetly ease the pressure from the bulge pressing against my britches. Fortunately, draken can only mind speak with their bonded riders, so even Kyrian—who has an empathic gift with the creatures—gets none of Ulyssus’s overt commentary. “It’s fine.”

Ulyssus chuffs again, and I tighten my mental shields to keep the nosy draken out.

“Logan here yet?” Kyrian asks, giving Ulyssus a wide berth as he moves around the clearing. If Arianda blends with the forest, Ulyssus is the night sky—black scales soaking up the darkness. Ulyssus tolerates Kyrian and Logan, but it’s never wise to push his goodwill. Especially since his wing was damaged getting into Eryndor two years ago. It healed fine, but his disposition soured. Not that he was gracious to begin with.

“He’ll show,” I say. Logan always does, even when it seems unlikely. “Probably found a way to slip into the Gloom.” The wards around Eryndor make contact with the Gloom—the shadow version of the world—nearly impossible. But Logan has unique talents. Ones he doesn’t always use wisely. “Why the unplanned flight?”

Not being able to soar through the sky together has been one of the mission’s harshest sacrifices. Not that I don’t deserve to suffer for what I’ve done. But the distance hurts Ulyssus too. That’s just part of being close to me—I hurt everyone who gets in my orbit.

I touch the pendant around my neck, Lilith’s smooth iridescent scales reminding me of the stakes. She was the first dragonling to hatch in centuries, and she soars no more because she trusted me. She is why I’m here. I have to fix things. For Lilith, I have to.

“Arianda thought she saw a draken get taken down near the Raven Raveen,” Kyrian explains. “Northeast quadrant.”

My jaw tenses. The auric alloy Eryndor put on their arrows doesn’t kill draken—it paralyzes them. Permanently if the arrowhead isn’t removed in time. Worse yet, the Spires have been sending covert contingents of soldiers to retrieve the downed draken. Retrieve them alive. I’ve seen the orders. We’ve not been able to work out where they bring them. Or to what end.

We’ve been doing what we can, when we can. Especially Kyrian and Arianda.

“Find anything?” I ask.

“False alarm. But there is movement at the wards. Flurry looks like it’s gathering another host.”

I run a hand through my hair. I can’t fault any draken rider or shifter for wanting to wipe Eryndor off the map, but an attack now would be inconvenient to the mission Kyrian, Logan, and I started two years ago.

Not that anyone in Flurry, or elsewhere, knows what we are doing.

“Little to be done about it now,” I say bluntly. “We’ll deal with it if we must.”

“Aye,” Kyrian agrees, rubbing Arianda’s nose. The draken leans eagerly into the touch. Ulyssus, thankfully, isn’t nearly as tactile. Logan’s draken is worse, not letting anyone but Logan even come near her.

“So,” I say, tired of waiting for Logan to show. “We have our alchemist. And she’s an Ainsley, of all things.”

“Rowan isn’t what I expected,” Kyrian says. I wish he didn’t use her name. I don’t need another reminder of how real she is.

---