Page 28 of Wings of Frost and Fury
“The horse,” says Ashvelon. “She was your pet?”
“In a way, I suppose. More like a friend.”
“I am not very familiar with the human concept ofpets,” he says. “There were tracking dogs in the Vohrainian army, and I heard someone call thempets, but they seemed more like soldiers or slaves.”
“A pet is an animal kept by a human owner. Sometimes it’s for a practical purpose, but usually it’s more than that. The pet is a beloved companion, a friend, even part of the family.”
He pauses, and I’m forced to pause as well, which is the last thing I should be doing. When we’re not moving forward, we’re simply standing there, our bodies closely aligned, breathing each other’s heat. Ashvelon sways, and I put my hand on his breast to steady him.
“You called mepet.” His voice vibrates through my side, my arm, my whole being. “I am not the same kind of animal as a dog or a horse. I have higher thought and language skills.”
“Debatable,” I say dryly.
“Are you trying to offend me?” His full mouth curves, a hint of humor in his gaze. His right hand shifts higher, from my waist to my ribs.
“I’m merely pointing out that many animals have more complex thoughts than we give them credit for, even if they can’t express them. I’ve experimented on creatures that were considered loathsome. I regret that now, even though the practice did inform my current skills.” Shit, I’m babbling and confessing... I don’t know where I was going with that line of thinking. What was I trying to say? His eyes are so damn beautiful.
“The point still stands—I’m not that kind of animal,” Ashvelon says. “Nor am I a beloved companion, or a friend, or part of your family. So why call me a pet?”
“I say a lot of things like that. Darling, sweetheart, pet—that’s the way I speak. Don’t ascribe too much meaning to any of the names I might use for you.”
“It felt like you were—demeaning me.” His voice dips lower, deeper. “I don’t know why, but—I fucking liked it.”
Something hot and firm brushes my thigh, and I glance down. “Oh. You really did like it, didn’t you?”
He follows my gaze to his erect cock. “You affect me like alethia. It always made me spill my seed reactively, against my control. This is somewhat different, but it’s powerful. I feel as if the mating heat is already upon me. I feel…” He searches my face, a storm of need in those smoky blue eyes.
The next instant, he has me by the shoulders and he’s pressing his entire body against mine, his hardness rubbing along my bare midriff. His shoulders quake with passionate breaths, and he stares at my face like he wants to devour me.
My brain whites out, as if someone took a brush and wiped snowy paint across my pain and grief. They’re still present, but they’re hidden, blotted out by the intensity of the physical sensations coursing over my skin, along my nerves.
“Your scent has changed,” Ashvelon murmurs. “It’s richer, more intense. You smell fertile and ready, like the females did during the last mating heat.”
I swallow hard. “You said that was twenty-five years ago?”
“Yes. We’re due for another at the Rib Moon.”
I do a mental calculation. “So… in less than a week. How many mating seasons have you been through?”
“Just one. I’m nearing fifty years.”
He doesn’t look it, not in this form. The body I gave him is around thirty years old, a couple decades shy of his actual age. It’s a strange contradiction of magic and reality, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve always preferred older men, and Ashvelon is an odd blend of maturity and naivete, which makes him twice as fascinating.
“How old areyou?” he murmurs, but I’m not sure he’s really interested in the answer. His pupils are wide and dark, and his nostrils are flared like he’s drinking in my scent.
“It’s rude to ask a woman’s age,” I say breathlessly as he dips his face to the corner of my jaw, brushing his mouth along my skin. “But I don’t mind telling you… I’m thirty-five.”
“So young,” he whispers, clasping my body closer. He licks my cheek with an eager relish that makes me shiver.
He’d fuck me right now if I let him. And Iwantto let him, but I need to be sure his lust isn’t simply born from the overstimulation of his new body. I won’t take advantage of his inexperience with this form.
I push him back, more playful than purposeful. “Naughty pet. You really should try to control yourself.”
He’s obscenely beautiful, standing there in all his naked need, with his cock boldly erect. It curves slightly upward, leaking arousal from the swollen head.
“I should take you inside and get you some clothes,” I manage to say. “Walk behind me, with your hand on my shoulder. Don’t touch me with any other part of your body, do you understand?”
“I understand.” There’s an aching reverence in his eyes, a sweetness in his attitude as he obeys. My shoulder burns where his hand touches me, but I refuse to let him know how deeply I’m affected.
