Page 17 of Dragons' Bride
Seeking out Kit’s lungs, Quinton wrapped his magic around them, taking her breath and life into his control.
“I’m going to breathe for you,” he whispered, squeezing gently for a count of four, before allowing a deep breath of air to fill her again. Every fiber inside him was alert, concentrating on nothing but just how much to tighten. How much to release. His arms tightened around Kit, holding her through a fresh spike of panic, a soothing purr vibrating his chest. “You’ll be alright.” He forced air into her lungs again and again, counting the breaths for them both as air finally mixed with her blood, the way it was meant to. Until her heart finally, reluctantly, slowed. Strengthened.
Lub dub.
Lub dub.
Lub dub.
Quinton thanked the stars as awareness returned to Kit’s eyes. “I’m going to give your breath back to you, alright?” he said.
She nodded.
Reeling his magic in slowly, Quinton braced himself to be shoved away.
But Kit didn’t shove him. Instead, as he released control back to her, the human clung tightly to him and buried her face into the soft part of his neck. Right over Quinton’s pulse.
“Don’t let go,” she pleaded.
“Never.” He pressed his head atop hers. The biting rain had soaked her hair and clothes, and wisps of hair clung to her temples and cheeks. “We go down together. One step at a time. Keep your eyes on the handholds and nowhere else.”
Quinton shielded Kit with his body as they made their way down the mast. He was tall enough to always grip the holds above and below her, and from the sudden steadiness of the ship when they’d gotten about half way down he knew Cyril must have come on deck to lend his own magic to the cause.
The moment both their feet were on deck, Dane was there. Quinton held onto Kit as he bowed his head and took the captain’s tongue lashing without protest. Most everyone else would have been glad to see Quinton thrown to sea, or else been too frightened to speak up. Not Dane though.
It felt strangely good to be taken to task.
Quinton said nothing when Dane was done, waiting for his dismissal. Once the captain gave it though, Kit gripped Quinton’s wrist.
“We need to talk,” she said.
His pulse, which had quieted, started up again.
He bladed his body, letting her lead the way. “As you wish.”
9. KIT
"Halt!" Tavias accousts Quinton and me the moment we descend to the cabin level. He looks as friendly as Captain Dane did, but with less restraint. Sparks play over his scales like tiny bits of lightning, which reflect in his eyes. "What the hell do you two think you're playing at?" he demands. "It's the first time Dane has had cause to raise his voice to the royal family. I intend to ensure it will be the last."
My stomach clenches into a ball and I take an involuntary step back. No matter how much time I spend with the prince, how many different ways he makes my body sing with his own, the commander inside him never becomes less terrifying. And neither does the threat of punishment. I can’t help glancing down at his belt and feel my stomach churn all over again. Tavias looks furious enough to take it to me again, and the thought of Quinton taking a whipping right alongside does nothing to soothe my nerves.
Whatever I have left of the frayed things.
Quinton steps in front of me, shielding me with his broad back. His wet shirt clings to his shoulders, showing off the cut of his body. I still remember how that body felt around mine, guiding me step by step down the terrifyingly high mast.
"I wanted to play with the humans a bit," Quinton tells Tavias and raises his chin defiantly. That kind of brashness is usually Hauck's problem, but Quinton pulls it off with quiet dignity. A cold answer to Tavias's hot challenge.
Something shifts beneath both their shirts, and I swear it looks as if both princes are fighting to keep their wings in check. I really hope they do, because if either shifts here below deck, they’ll blow the whole ship to smithereens.
Rutting dragons.
"You wished to play with the humans?" Tavias enunciates each word.
"I did." Quinton gives me a small push toward my cabin and I am smart enough not to wait for a second invitation to get the hell out of Tavias’s field of wrath.
Racing into my space, I shut the door quickly and lean back against it, my eyes shut. Breathe, I order myself the way Quinton did. The phantom connection still tingles inside me. Deep breaths fill my lungs as I try to regain control.
"Well, you look… well, like you just escaped death."
