Page 68 of Wish of Dragons (Dragon Tails 3)

He played her game and gave as good as he got. Bucking up into her, gritting his teeth, matching stare for stare.

She leaned closer, her breath coming short.

He could hear her heart pound, or perhaps it was his own.

They must have been at this for hours now; his body felt utterly destroyed. And yet, he always had more to give.

As long as she wanted, as much as she wanted, he would always,always, give.

She knelt above him, knees on either side of his hips for leverage, as she rode him hard and deep.

Faster.Faster.

Harder. Deeper.

Her hands clawed into the back of his neck, inexorably bringing his face closer to hers. Until their breaths mingled as one, their lips a hair’s breadth away from each other.

So close.

So close.

Kiss me, he begged silently.

He, who had never begged for anything of anyone. Who had asked nothing for himself.

He was a weapon, after all. A beast to unleash at others’ whim. He had no feelings. No thoughts or dreams of his own. He desired nothing. Needed nothing.

And yet he still reached for that elusive kiss, his lips parting against hers.

Wishing…

She threw her head back in a wailing cry as her crisis crackled through her like a lightning strike. It commanded,demanded, his answering release. And he clenched his jaw as he broke apart for her.

In the aftermath, she held him tight, arms and legs wrapped securely around him.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply her womanly scent.

The scent ofEir.

It was enough, he thought.

This… connection… with this woman… was more than he’d ever had before. Even if it was all he deserved, even if he was the only one who felt it, it was enough.

For the first time, he feltalive.

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Something was wrong.

Eir couldn’t pinpoint the source of it, but she felt the wrongness to the roots of her hair.

The four travelers, now that she counted amongst the group, had set out at dawn break into the wintry wilderness toward the tallest mountain in the north.

Somehow, Ere obtained fur vests and thick boots for each of them, even large ones to fit both Sorin and Kai. He explained the route they were taking, not the shortest, but the least risky, after gleaning the necessary information from a couple of humans who trekked this way every year and were familiar with the territory.

“Trolls inhabit these mountains,” Ere was saying.

“But they don’t rule them. A jötunn called Hrímþurs is the giant in charge. Apparently, he’s a bad-tempered lout who regularly induces avalanches and stomps through villages beating his chest with his fists. Or destroying things with his spiked club. It’s a wonder why anyone chooses to live here.”

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