Page 63 of Wings of Frost and Fury
“She was a wonderful friend to you.” Thelise reaches up and strokes my face. “I wish I could have met her.”
“You both wield lightning,” I reply. “I think you would have been friends.”
“Or maybe she would have told you to stay far away from the mad sorceress.”
“Maybe. But I wouldn’t have listened.”
Much as I crave all of her, including the pleasure we can enjoy together, I don’t suggest a coupling. Instinct warns me against it. She needs a different kind of comfort from me tonight—the comfort of words and my presence.
We talk of many things. She tells me how her mother left, how it hurt. She tells me where she went after her exile, the hard lessons she learned at the beginning of life on her own. I tell her about the months I spent lurking in the sea tunnels after my mother’s death, fearful of being around other dragons, terrifiedof seeing them die, haunted by the thought of my own death. It took me years to overcome my visceral revulsion at the sight of humans.
By the time we went to war, I could look at humans like any other animal. Like prey. And through the process of fighting alongside them, I came to view them more or less as allies, or even equals.
“And when you first saw me?” she asks. “What was I?”
“When you were on the bench, staring at the sea, I thought you looked sad. But when I saw you in the stable, I knew what you really are—a predator.”
Her lips curve. She’s pleased, but she sighs. “I don’t feel like a predator at the moment, darling.”
“And yet you hold me ensnared.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Who’s keeping who captive?”
“An excellent question.”
“You claim I have you enthralled. So you would take me back to my cottage on the mainland if I demanded it?”
“No, because one of the other dragons might hunt you down and kill you for what you’ve done. Fortunix would do it without a second thought, I’m sure. He hates humans, and transforming into one is the worst nightmare he could ever imagine. I’m sure a few others feel the same. You must remain here on Ouroskelle, where the clan law applies and where you’re under my protection as my life-mate.”
“Fuck you,” she says grouchily, but she shifts her shoulders, snuggling deeper into my lap. She knows I’m right. And I suspect she’s not as eager to leave as she pretends to be.
She confirms my suspicion by exclaiming, “It will be so interesting to see how the mating frenzy plays out, and the hatching season. And we get to witness the first shift of the babies! The entire dragon civilization will have to change now, to accommodate the needs of your dual forms. I can’t wait to seehow you all adjust, how you innovate, how Ouroskelle develops.”
“You sound as if you’re acclimating to the idea of living here for a long time.”
“Perhaps,” she says loftily, attempting to veil her enthusiasm. “But I can’t reside in acave, sweetheart. At least not in its current state. I’m accustomed to a certain standard of living, so you’ll need to learn how I expect to be cared for.”
“Happily.”
“Not only that, you’ll have to transport me back to the mainland for shopping occasionally, if I need things.”
“Gladly.”
“And if I think of a project or a scheme I want to try, you must go along with it and help me obtain whatever I require. I abhor dullness and inactivity. I need to be constantly amused, do you understand? I’ll do a lot for love, but I refuse to be bored.”
When she sayslove, my brain wipes itself clean of everything except that word. My hand stops stroking her hair. “Love?”
She smirks and pats my face again. “Calm down. You know how I talk—I throw words around without meaning them. Don’t ever take me too seriously. I tell lies, remember? We both do. A pair of liars, the two of us.”
“The two of us,” I growl, thumbing her full lips.
Her breath catches a little, and her eyes darken with quiet heat. “You and me, dragon.”
When we wake in the morning, I expect her to be even stronger and more spirited, but she seems oddly listless. My dragon form returns, and I offer to take her out for a quick flight, hoping the sunshine and fresh air will lift her spirits. But she declines, curling deeper into the blankets.
“You are still recovering from the spell?” I ask.
She lies still for a moment, blinking, her eyes vague as if she’s looking within herself. “This feels different from post-enchantment recovery. I might be getting sick, which is rare for me.”
