Page 34 of Dragons' Bride
But I will not let any of it pierce my shields either. Not again.
“I imagine you didn’t come here to critique my bowline knot, my prince?” I say cooly.
“That would be accurate,” says Cyril.
18. CYRIL
Cyril silently cursed the Faewave Rift, Quinton, and the bloody stars themselves. It had been three days of the universe doing everything possible to keep him from Kit, and now they had a reprimand to get past before things could settle back to normal. He sincerely wished they could skip to the normal part, but there was no responsible way to avoid the matter – and he was already getting a bad feeling about how things were going to go.
And what did you expect?That Kit would take being jerked up short in stride or that Quinton would pull his head out of his ass and explain things like a responsible male?
He flared his nostrils, taking in Kit’s scent. It was slightly different now that they’d crossed into Lunos, making her harder to read. In fact, at the moment, he read nearly nothing from the girl. Not even a healthy dose of anxiety that should be filling her by right.
Hands still draped behind his back, Cyril spoke with a cool chill of command. “Quinton was unconscious for two days, but is awake now. He’ll be at full strength by the time we dock in Massa’eve.” He watched Kit’s face closely as he spoke, marking the not unexpected flicker of surprise. She had no idea how quickly an immortal healed – which was one of the points he intended to make. What Kit didn’t know about dragons and Massa’eve was enough to fill the ocean. “Your pulling the spikes from his dragon form when you did, sped his recovery. But he would have survived in either case. You may not have.”
For a heartbeat, a spark of defiance sparked behind her eyes. Cyril knew he should not be finding it nearly as captivating as he did.
“In my defense, it worked,” said Kit.
“It did,” Cyril acknowledged, stepping toward her and spreading his shoulders so he loomed over the small mortal. “But we are heading to the Equinox Trials. Ignoring an order there might mean the difference between your survival and lack thereof. It would be disappointing for all involved if you died. I realize you wish to trust your instincts, but you simply do not have enough experience in Lunos to have developed safe ones.” He wielded each word like a weapon now, bringing them down in harsh strokes. One hard truth at a time.
In the beat of silence that followed, Cyril flared the scales along his temples, increasing his already large silhouette as he let his dragon’s dominance rise to the surface. His power dwarfed Kit. And not just her. Cyril could feel the others on deck tense and back away, many instinctively bearing their necks to him.
Kit lowered her head, her heart hammering so hard against her ribs that he could hear the echoing beats. It was the first sign of real emotion he’d gotten from her since they got to matter at hand. Now they were getting somewhere. Pulling his shoulders back, he stepped closer to the girl. Invading her space. Taking away whatever illusion of safety she was holding on to.
“Kitterny?” Cyril prompted.
“I’m…” Kit’s throat bobbed as she swallowed – and then slammed an invisible wall down between them. Her heart pounded still, but there was something different about her scent. She did feel fear, but there was an abstract quality to it that set warning bells off in Cyril’s head. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, my prince. I should have heeded your words.”
Cyril rocked back on his heels. In any normal situation, that response would be both expected and welcome. But nothing about Kit was normal. She wasn’t sorry. She was telling Cyril to go to hell in a way that he could do little about.
He knew the technique well enough, having used it often in the five years the Serpari queen held him.
His hands tightened their grip on eachother. “You are apologizing?”
“Of course, my prince. Is that… Is that not what you wish?”
Cyril’s jaw ground so hard he heard his teeth scrape. What he wanted was to impart the gravity of the situation to Kitterny. He bloody wanted her to make fewer poor life choices going forward. “I recommend you become more skilled at lying before attempting it against me again,” he said in a clipped tone.
“I’m not lying.”
She was absolutely lying. Hell, Cyril had little doubt that if a dragon with a toothache suddenly landed before Kit, the girl would climb into his open maw to help out. For the present though, all her efforts were aimed at one goal: making Cyril go away.
Rutting hell.
Kit’s spine straightened, her hands draping behind her back in imitation of his own. “I’m ready to accept whatever punishment is warranted.”
“Oh, for ruts sake, Kit,” Cyril snapped, his anger flaring. “Say that a bit louder and it’s exactly how this conversation will end.”
She let out a humorless laugh as if to saywhat other way can it end?
The sound pushed Cyril back on his heels, his mind wheeling. What other way could it end? It was supposed to end with a contrite Kit in his arms, her soft body pressed against him as he assured her that all was forgiven.
Clearly, Kit had other expectations. Other plans, possibly. Ones that included neither contrition nor forgiveness.
Cyril’s pulse picked up speed, his mind racing to take in the field of battle he’d not prepared for. He was acutely aware that the crew was watching. Knew how they thought an encounter between a commanding officer and a mouthy subordinate should end on a ship of war. That is, with a rope on bared skin.
Shoving all else aside, Cyril focused on Kit. Not the Kit he’d expected, but the one who truly stood before him. Back straight, eyes hard, emotions locked away. She wore a lightweight, sapphire blue dress that draped off her hips, accentuating the curves. The long sleeves hugged her arms before extending into slightly flared cuffs that fluttered with the ocean breeze. Beautiful, except for the spot of blood spreading over her left forearm.
