Page 15

Exuberant curiosity flowed out of Aurora as she drifted through the field bursting with wildflowers. An odd electricity built in Rhaego as he watched her. Like a battery becoming overcharged.

Her joy was catching, and it was as if his body couldn’t simultaneously handle the buzz she caused in his heart and the fire she sent into his blood whenever she bent forward to inhale one flower or another. And when her scent carried to him on a floral breeze…

Rhaego didn’t know how to channel this energy. Lust, yes. Anger, yes. They were difficult to quell, but he had tactics for both. But this…fullness? She overstimulated his senses. The only thing that seemed to calm the giddiness was his purr, so whenever she ventured far enough away, he let the rumble out.

Bending again and pushing the round tops of her glorious bosom over the neckline of her dress, Aurora sniffed another flower. A pained keen invaded his deep purr.

She straightened like a shot, beaming in his direction. His knees wobbled. “This smells just like coconut,” she yelled through cupped hands.

Directing her grin at the yellow bottleneck blossoms, she laughed.

“How is that possible?” She said this to herself, but Rhaego could hear the words anyway. She didn’t need to shout, but he hadn’t stopped her. The guilt at allowing her to wear out her vocal chords couldn’t compare to the thrill he got every time she strained her voice over the wind just so she could share something trivial with him. People usually only put in such effort to avoid speaking to him.

He strode toward her, careful not to trample the flowers. His progress was slow, and she didn’t notice his approach at first, so he chased her across the field for a few minutes before she finally caught sight of him and stopped.

“I spotted some blood-drop bells in the shade over there.” He pointed toward a patch of rocky dirt shadowed by an enormous boulder. “Would you like to see them?”

Aurora had already started walking in the direction he’d indicated before blurting, “Yes.”

She fell to her knees before the flowers when she reached them, and he followed suit.

“Wow.” She smiled, eyes wide. He gazed at the blossoms so he wouldn’t stare in awe at her face. The bright pink flush on her cheeks, nose, and chest looked so lovely he could barely keep his purr contained.

“Let me.” He stopped her before she could touch the flowers. Dark silvery-green leaves sprouted from the ground, and on a single stalk, little maroon bell-shaped blossoms sprouted, hanging over the sides of the stalk as if sheltering the leaves.

The flowers’ internal red seeds had fallen onto the invisible spider webs below, clinging to the strands like droplets of blood. With a claw, he dragged his finger through the web to show her it existed, and her brows rose, lips parting. “The seeds are trapped on these webs. They entice creatures who either eat the seeds and disperse them across the field or find themselves caught and consumed by the nocturnal spiders.” Her rapt attention was overwhelming, and he had to focus very hard to think. “The webs are quite sticky. I’d be happy to harvest the seeds for you.”

“I’d like to do it, if that’s okay?” It wasn’t a statement but a question. As if she needed his permission to do anything. Rhaego nodded, working to keep his smile natural and not show his disappointment. He thought she would have at least allowed him to dirty his hands so she didn’t have to. But she wanted to do this herself too.

What chore would she allow him?

A thought struck, and he eagerly dug out the expandable basket he’d brought from home and extended it. Not enough to imply she should hold it, but enough so her attention flitted toward it. “You can put whatever you’d like to bring back in here.”

“Oh, great!” she exclaimed, reaching for the basket. He pulled it back, and she frowned.

“I can carry it for you.” He stood, confident rising would end discussion on the matter.

But she rose too, the corner of her mouth turning up in a grin that made his chest flutter. “You lugged it all the way here—thank you for that, by the way—if I’m gonna fill it, I can lug it back.”

“No. I—”

Her eyes widened to saucers, her mouth dropping in a gasp. “Hold still!” she somehow both screamed and whispered.

Rhaego froze. A tickle on the top of his horn, paired with her astounded expression, told him something was there. He didn’t speak for fear his deep voice would scare whatever it was away.

“Incredible,” she breathed while inching forward ever so slowly. Her keen eyes studied the thing. “Six wings,” she whispered.

All at once, Rhaego became aware of how close she was getting to him. Her hands were splayed in front of her like she could keep the creature still by showing it her palms. Palms that would brush his stomach if she didn’t stop.

Breathlessly, he watched.

Aurora’s hands didn’t lower, but her body shifted as she laid her left palm on his forearm. It took all his willpower not to purr. His heart hammered so fiercely he worried the insect would feel it in his horns and fly away. He closed his eyes, breathed through his mouth, and willed his body to calm.

“You’re so tall.” Her soft fingers squeezed. “Do you think you could kneel without it flying away?” She spoke almost too quietly for even him to hear.

For her, he’d do anything, but Rhaego didn’t dare nod or reply, just gently and steadily stretched one foot behind him, lowering. His thigh burned as he held taut every muscle in his body to keep his movements controlled. Though he kept his eyes closed, he listened for any sound of dismay and wanted to don applause bells when his knee finally met grass and she inhaled a gasp of awe.

The feeling of triumph lasted for only an instant, though. Her scent and body heat built in intensity. She was so close now he could practically map out the curves of her figure with his eyes closed. He allowed the smell to wash over him, noticing subtleties he hadn’t before.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. It must be a new classification.” There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to open his eyes. He imagined the wonder on her face. A crasser part of him estimated her chest would be in his direct eyeline from this position.

Fuck. The base of his horns throbbed, and his musk invaded the air.

“Sorry. Could you just…” She placed a hand on the lower curve of his horn and gently tipped it down, presumably to get a better look at the creature.

Rhaego’s insides exploded with fever. It raced like fire through his veins and flooded his cock. She didn’t realize how sensitive his horns were when his glands were active. She’d probably thought touching him there was no different from tapping him on the shoulder.

And what made it all the worse was that she didn’t remove her hand. She kept hold, even gripping a little tighter as she rose to her toes. His shaft throbbed in time with his horn’s scent glands. If she weren’t careful, she’d awaken the gland just above his cock. Something that shouldn’t happen until a few days before the heat struck.

His mind was steaming over, rational thought being replaced with a single demand. Mark.

Throat bobbing, he clenched his jaw and dug his nails into his palms to keep from moaning as her other hand came to rest on his shoulder to keep herself steady.

Breathe through it, he pleaded.

This was a show of trust. Aurora felt safe enough to be within his grasp, and he couldn’t let her regret it. He had to hold on. The creature would surely leave soon.

Rhaego tried to think of a way he could hasten its retreat without her knowing, but his mind was too muddled. His horn glands pulsed again, and she sucked in another little gasp. “Goodbye.”

He felt her drop to her heels, and though he knew the creature had departed, he remained perfectly still. Her hand was still absently clasped around his horn. His fever was restrained by a ragged thread.

“That was unbel—” Her fingers slipped across his horn when she let go, and he couldn’t hide the choked growl that escaped him. With a squeak of surprise, she tried to jump away, but despite all his best efforts, his hands shot out. They locked around her hips, holding her in place.

“A moment…please,” he grated in a gravelly voice unnatural to his own ears.

He thanked the Goddess that Aurora had the good sense not to move. He breathed in and out for eight counts each. Forcing his awareness away from his clutching hands. Finally, when he had control of himself again and knew evidence of his arousal had dissipated, he released her, flexed his claws and straightened.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Her eyes were full of concern and confusion.

The burn of embarrassment helped to douse the embers of his fever. Rhaego felt like a buck fresh into husbandry school without a lick of control over his hormones. What she must think of him.

Her eyes flashed over the blush hot on his face. He prayed on all the good deeds he’d ever committed that his glands hadn’t produced enough to make his horns slick. He could scent the stench of his miserable musk even now, and all he wanted to do was rub his face across every inch of her exposed skin, marking her.

Rhaego swallowed. Then tried to speak, but couldn’t. He clenched his jaw and swallowed again. Though it was embarrassing, the truth was best. At least some of it. “My horns are quite sensitive this time of year.”

A look of horror exploded across Aurora’s face. “Oh my god.” Her hands flashed out like she was about to touch him, then she stopped herself. He wanted to bark in frustration. “I’m so, so sorry. Did I hurt you? I can’t believe how thoughtless that was.” She put her hands over her mouth and shook her head, furrowing her brows. “Did I hurt you?” she asked again.

“No,” he forced out slowly.

“But—” Her words died out as she studied his blazing face and concluded what else sensitive might mean. “Oh…I…”

“It’s alright,” he assured as he watched the color drain from her cheeks. “You couldn’t know.”

“Who just touches somebody like that without asking?” Her wince twisted her features until she looked pained.

Rhaego couldn’t think of what to say. He wanted her to grab his horns. There were few things he wanted more in this world. But that wouldn’t be appropriate to admit.

“Why don’t you harvest what you need, and we can return to the den?” He stepped past her, retreating to the blood-drop bell. While avoiding eye contact, he began explaining how to extract the delicate seeds and silently promised himself he’d relieve the agonizing urge to mark later that night after she fell asleep.

But he’d be imaging her as he did it.