Page 19 of Dragons' Bride
"Yes."
"And?"
"I didn't."
“Right. I mean why bother.” I look for a place to sit, but there isn’t any except for the cot. Quinton is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks at me with that usual quiet malice of his. Except I don’t find it hostile anymore. "Thank you for taking the brunt of everyone's ire.”
He shrugs his shoulders. "Neither Dane nor Tavias can do much to me. You are in more danger. Or at least your ass is."
Heat rushes to my face. Of course, he'd bring that up. Instead of retreating however, I raise my chin. "Why do you do that? Say something to shove me away the moment I try to have a conversation."
"Because Iamtrying to shove you away," says Quinton. "To my credit, the effect is usually more reliable.”
"That's why you try to kill me every morning as well?"
"No.” Quinton shifts his weight, his expression no friendlier. “That's so someone else doesn't actually succeed in doing so. And sooner or later, someone will try. If not before the Equinox Trials, then certainly during them."
I bite my lip. Quinton looks lethal. Powerful. And yet, somehow, my body aches with need for him even as I want to take his brooding head off his shoulders. "So what then, want a monopoly on Kitterny torment?”
Quinton narrows his gaze. “Maybe.”
“Except that we both know that when it truly mattered, you protected me with everything you had. Your hands. Your magic. Your reputation. If you’d wanted to hurt me, you could have done it a thousand times over.” I hold my hand out, halting his rebuttal, though my bold move is somewhat soured with nearly losing my balance on the shifting deck. “If the next words out of your mouth are some kind of threat about what you’ll do to me tomorrow, consider me appropriately frightened and move on.”
“Humans are so impatient. What if I want to savor your fear?”
“Except you don’t. Savor it, I mean. You don’t savor me fearing you.” I take a step toward him, holding his silver gaze. Quinton has so many sides to him, but he only dares to show the darkness. “Oh, I know you want me to fear you. But you don’t like it.”
He looks at me warily and a small purple tinge ripples through his scales. “What do you want?”
"I – '' I change what I was going to say in mid-sentence. Quinton and I never do well with talking and my body and soul long for so much more. A connection. I want his magic inside me again. I want his hands on my body. I want proof that I’d not imagined everything that happened on the platform. "I want to touch you."
"We touch every morning."
"We toss each other around like sacks of grain every morning." I take another step toward him. From the tension in Quinton’s body, I know the wall behind him is the only thing keeping the male from dancing back. In my head, Nora’s voice warns me to make a good life choice and get the hell out of Quinton’s space. But I’ve no more mind to heed it than I do to let Quinton go. "Take off your shirt."
He startles, his scales flushing a deeper purple hue. I can't read the colors yet, but the pulsing bulge in the front of his pants speaks for itself. "Human... Kit..." Quinton presses himself into the wall, his broad chest expanding with quickened breaths. "I can't."
"Can't take off your shirt?"
He growls, his chest vibrating.
I laugh without humor. "From what I gather, neither of us is going to have a choice in the matter very soon."
"And we'll deal with it then." Quinton snarls and steps free from the wall. His nostrils flare at me. "I don't want to touch you until I have to. Is that clear enough for you?"
His words hit me like a slap, and my whole world spins.
I thought getting thrown about in training hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the sting I feel now. I step back toward the door, fighting to keep myself in check. I was so sure, so stupidly certain that there was a bond between us. Except I was wrong.
"I'm sorry, my prince." I turn to the door.
Quinton curses. "Wait."
I don't.
He catches me around the waist, spins me around, and holds me up against the wall, our eyes level, and my feet dangling above the floor. "I don't want to touch you because... I have trouble combining pain and pleasure."
"I didn’t know that was a requirement."
