Page 64 of Edge of the Wild

“I’m sure you can.”

Náli offered one of his fleeting, insincere smiles – one undercut by the exhaustion in his eyes, and turned away.

Leif called after him: “This magic.”

Náli paused.

“Is that what’s affecting Oliver, too?”

Over his shoulder, expression contemplative now, the Corpse Lord said, “No. No, I don’t think it is. Not exactly.”

~*~

Oliver woke sore in good ways – and sore in not-so-good ways. He recognized the familiar, welcome ache of vigorous sex…but also the soreness of riding, and the pains that came after having been too cold and drawn up tight and shivering. He rubbed the grit from his eyes, frowning, and realized that Erik sat on the side of the bed.

A large, ringed hand settled on his hip, over the bedclothes.

“What time is it?”

“Early. Stay in bed a while longer and I’ll have a tray sent up,” Erik said, voice gently commanding, concerned gaze backlit by fresh, silver sunlight.

Oliver struggled upright, wincing, and didn’t refuse the help of a hand beneath his elbow. He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Just need some tea.”

Erik frowned. “Do you remember much of last night?”

“I remember all of it. Quite distinctly.” Even the parts that had felt surreal and soft-edged. It hadn’t been like drinking too much, and losing details; wasn’t piecing it together now in flashes. But trying to explain the way it had felt like flying, the way he’d been in his body, with Erik, in the moment, and also somewhere ethereal and not physical…that would only worry Erik more.

One of Erik’s brows went up. “Quitedistinctly?”

“I…” There was a knot in his throat, suddenly. “Yes.”

There at the end, before he’d finally slipped into one of the deepest sleeps of his life, lulled there by sparkling ecstasy and exhaustion, he’d uttered something deeply personal, deeply vulnerable. Something he’d not given voice to yet.I love you.

It had seemed ridiculous at the timenotto have set it yet. There could be no other word for the way he felt; of course he loved Erik, just as he felt loved in return. Words were for children, for young, starry-eyed lovers caught in steamy affairs.

Why then, now, did he feel an uncertain dropping in his stomach when he recalled confessing it? He wore Erik’s beads in his hair, and they traveled together; he was acknowledged not just as a lover, but a consort. Had been calledyour lordshipby Erik’s nobility.

How could those three small words leave him trembling now?

He expected Erik to ask about it, but he smirked and said, “So, dragons?”

Oliver frowned – though he was relieved. “If you’re going to doubt me, I far prefer Worried You to Mocking You.”

The smirk widened into a grin, and Erik chuckled. “Sorry, love, you don’t get to choose.”

“No, I didn’t think I did.” He heaved a dramatic sigh, just to earn another laugh; then hitched up straighter and fixed Erik with as stern a look as he could manage. It must have been quite stern, the way Erik’s chuckling died away, and his face blanked. “I did see a dragon, though. The same one, multiple times. It wasn’t a hallucination, Erik. I think – I think it was showing itself to me.”

Erik’s jaw tightened.

“You yourself were the one who convinced me of their existence. And now you doubt? You said the Drakes had some sort of – I don’t know, magic of a sort. That they could bond with dragons in a way no other family could.”

Erik glanced away, muscle in his cheek leaping. “I did say that.” His voice had gone grave.

“Is that true? Or were you just feeding me lines to flatter me?”

The blue gaze skated back; narrowed. “If I flatter you, it isn’t with lies.” He sounded offended by the very idea.

“So you believe the Drakes possess some –abilityto communicate with dragons.”

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