Page 15 of The Wrath of Ashes
Wincing, Rath shook his head. “Rath, my prince.”
Asha had nothing to say in response, fearful of what the dragon may do to him taking such liberties. For yet he still knew what Asha was good for, to him. Monsmountian men were tall and sturdily built, while Asha, in comparison, was a svelte and lean man. He was not scraggly as a new hen but rather cocksure and toned in the way a good groundskeeper was. But even as toned from labor as Asha was, Rath was larger, taller by half a head, not including his horns, and had eyes so deep that he lost himself for a moment, gasping as Rath sprang up and onto his mount, pushing in behind Asha, reminding him of how he was every bit as solid as he appeared.
Powerful arms wrapped around Asha’s waist and heat like flames burned his cheeks, his cock twitching traitorously. He willed it away.
“It’ll be a cold ride. Do you have a coat?” Rath whispered over Asha’s shoulder.
Asha shook his head. “My friend took it to mend.”
“Is it the friend that the earl did away with?” Rath ran a deceptively soft hand over Asha’s arm and hand.
No words were fit for the moment, nothing he could say would equal his pain, and he fought a tear as he nodded.
“I can’t do much at the moment with prying eyes, diplomacy and all that, but I can cost him his wife, embarrass him.”
“Thank you,” Asha whispered, despite the bitterness he should have held for the dragons, the dragons that wouldn’t interfere with the war that he cared very little about, all of a sudden. The only person that mattered in the whole kingdom met her end alone on a rope, and Asha could do nothing about it but fight off a single choking sob.
“Do you wish to see her grave? To say goodbye?”
Asha shook his head. “I don’t wish to witness the disrespect they pay her resting place.”
“You!” Rath pointed to the earl who glared at him with venomous ire. “I cannot tell you how you run your keep. But I can make a demand. This is the Tippin valley, known for its whitestone fit for kings’ graves. I will send an ombudsman in the spring, and I expect there to be a headstone fit for a noble on his companion’s grave.” Rath stroked over Asha’s hand with an almost-loving gesture, a greater kindness than many had ever paid him.
“But she was only—” the earl attempted to argue but silenced at Rath’s raised hand.
“What would you wish it to say, Ashen one?” Rath’s low tones brought a soft peace to Asha.
“‘Beloved friend and keeper of the best gossip.’” Asha barely formed the words before Rath echoed them to the earl.
“Anything you wish to say?”
“I want to know who snitched.” Asha glanced among the girls that had bullied and shoved Lyss around for so long. Lyss may have lost the war, but every battle before, she walked free a victor.
“Adrianna,” the earl supplied helpfully.
Asha turned his miserable gaze to her and laughed. “I’ll never tell you where Lyss hid your pearl comb, but rest assured, you never had a chance of being courted by me. I find you repulsive.” He turned his head away from her fury and tensed in wait for a rebuttal, anything, but the barest shake of Rath’s chest hid a gentle chuckle. His breath, scented of cloves, tickled Asha’s nose.
“We ride!” Rath raised a hand and wrapped his arms around Asha’s chest before taking the reins.
Asha didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t the sudden exhilarating rush, the pull of the earth’s magnetism to his stomach, or the sharp wind that whipped his hair about. Heckle’s forearms, winged and powerful, clawed air beneaththem, working to gain height. With a soft gasp of wonder, Asha’s lungs filled with thin air and the warmth at his back, solid and reassuring all the way down.
“Are you not afraid of heights?” Rath choked up on the reins and wrapped his other arm more securely to Asha’s waist.
“Never have been.” Filled with misery, Asha couldn’t bring himself to laugh, but his spirit wondered at the new sights. “As a boy, I’d climb to the mines and scale the cliffs to see the world. My nursemaid had to fight to keep me out of the belfry.”
“You were made for sky.” Rath moved against him, adjusting in his seat as he pushed into the stirrups and jerked the reins to level Heckle’s flight path out. The beast responded to Rath’s every whim, and when they leveled out and Rath seated, positioning Asha flush to him once more, a frightening hardness pressed into Asha’s back.
“Your Ma—” Asha paused. “Rath?”
“What is it, Ashen one?” Rath leaned in so as not to shout.
“Why me?”
“I’d ask you not to worry about it, to only enjoy yourself for now, but you’re a curious sort. Suffice it to say that we share a bond, you and me. Our minds spoke while you slept, recovering from the lashing and your ear…”
The words in Asha’s dreams, the soft-spoken warmth that comforted him…Rath.Distracted by Rath’s admission, Asha barely noticed him rearranging the reins to brush his stitched ear.
Asha focused on the cold air and the whipping wind, doing his best to not think of the dragon or his firm body or the maddening arousal he felt. Dragons were impetuous creatures, self-righteous and pitiable gods that wanted the world to suffer beneath them. They weren’t deities of lust or creatures of passion. They lived thousands of years and had the demeanorof those that thought themselves too good to interfere in the squabbles of peasants.
