Page 42 of Dragons' Bride
“So you are saying we have to get this right?” I ask.
“Yes. We have to get this right,” Tavias says, not echoing my hint at lightness at all.
I wince. A fake bride. A fake unity of our pack. A fake set of Equinox vows to be taken in two days. With a winning setup like this, what can possibly go wrong?
* * *
Cyril talks mostof the ride to the palace. I spend it wondering how in the world I’m going to pull off what’s expected. What’s needed. With what Tavias had explained about the other courts’ wish to enslave the mortal realm, it seems that the survival of both dragons and humans is riding on ensuring the princes keep the throne.
“Have you been listening to me, Kit?” Cyril asks as the carriage bumps to a stop. “Kit?”
“Um… no.” I wince in apology. “Sorry. I really am.”
“I was listening,” says Hauck. “Don’t worry, turnip, you didn’t miss anything useful.”
“Get out, all of you,” Tavias says, motioning his brother out of the carriage. When I start to follow after the princes, Tavias cuts in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders as he pushes me back down to the padded bench. His attention on my face, he slowly traces his thumbs over my cheekbones.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Your eyes,” he whispers. “The way the light reflects from them, it makes them shine as brightly as the jewels in the combs.”
“Oh.” I swallow, fighting the urge to run my finger over the sensitive scales running down Tavias’s temple. My breasts feel too full all of a sudden, my nipples rising indecently against the exquisite purple fabric of my gown. Purple. “I’m wearing your colors, aren’t I?”
His throat bobs. “You are. And you have no idea what the sight of you in that dress is doing to me, Kitterny. I should be thinking about a million things right now, but all I’ve been able to concentrate on the entire damn trip is how much I like seeing you in that dress, with those dragon combs in your hair. It’s been… distracting.” The last words come out hoarsely and Tavias shifts his legs.
Unable to stop myself, I brush his scales briefly, sending a shudder all along Tavias’s body.
“Stars, Kit. Don’t do that. Not now.”
My fingertips stop at Tavias’s neck, where his pulse is beating hard enough to make the stutter. “Your heart is racing.”
“It is.”
“Does it have anything to do with my being neither blond, noble, or gifted with air magic?” I try to say the words lightly, but I don’t manage to convince myself, much less him, that it’s a joke. I lean my cheek into his touch, drawing on the endless strength that he offers with no hesitation. “I’m scared, Tavias.”
“You are the diamond, Kitterny. Anyone who doesn’t see you outshine the world is either blind or stupid.”
I swallow. “The world must have a lot of stupid people then.”
“You have no idea.” He grips my face in his hands and tilts it up toward him. “And the reason my heart is beating so fast? It’s because I’m afraid that once we walk into that palace, I won’t have a moment alone with you to do this.” Leaning toward me, Tavias brushes his lips over mine with uncharacteristic gentleness.
My mouth parts with a soft gasp of desire.
Tavias’s canines brush my lower lips, sending zings of sensation along my skin to match the warmth already spreading through me. For a moment, Tavias’s hand on my jaw and his tongue sweeping through me in slow savoring strokes, I feel the coiled fear ebb away. I breathe him in, letting his scent and power make the world fade away.
If you only knew how long I’ve wanted to do this,Tavias’s mind voice is a caress inside my head.To have you alone, tasting you, and letting the world be damned while it waits.
His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer, the kiss deepens until I’m not sure where I end and Tavias begins. He’d kissed me before, of course, many times. Done a great deal more as he trained my body for the trials. But it had never been like this. Soul deep and sensual and so viscerally real.
My hands reach up to thread through his hair, anchoring me to him. He offers himself freely, his body a lifeline promising to keep me safe in this new land. Our breaths mingle, our hearts race in tandem as someone – probably Hauck – pounds on the carriage door.
Tavias pulls away slowly, letting our lips linger against each other for a moment longer before parting.
“I don’t want to open the carriage door,” he confesses. “When we go inside, with Ettienne, I might be different. More… more the way the heir apparent is expected to behave. Whatever happens, promise me that you’ll remember this moment. Know that it’s real. Alright?”
My chest tightens. “I’m not sure what that means,” I whisper.
His thumb traces my cheek again. “Nothing. I just mean…” He hesitates, strangely unsure with his words, which is so unlike him. “Just that we may be different. A disciplined pack that moves with a single united purpose.”
