Page 24

“Careful now, little rebel,” he whispers in my ear, so softly that only I can hear. “Unless you want me to bend you over this table right here and fuck you so thoroughly that everyone will know what you really sound like when you moan.”

My heart flips and heat licks through my veins.

He once more pulls back, but he doesn’t remove his hand.

I struggle to swallow the bite of food as his fingers skim along the inside of my thigh.

Coughing, I force the food down with a gulp of ale.

I cast a worried look around the table, but everyone else is either engaged in their own conversations or focused on the food.

Draven’s hand remains possessively on my thigh, his fingers teasing me, as I cut another piece of meat and potatoes. This time when I eat, I make sure to do it without moaning. Draven gives my thigh an approving squeeze and he briefly leans closer again.

Another shiver of pleasure ripples down my spine as he places his lips right next to my ear.

“Good girl.”

I choke on the potato.

Coughing violently, I lurch forward to grab the tankard of ale to wash it down while shooting the bastard next to me a glare.

My cheeks are blazing red. Draven gives my thigh a couple of satisfied pats and lets out a smug chuckle under his breath as he pulls back again so that he is sitting normally.

From my other side, Galen glances at both me and Draven in confusion. “You okay?”

After forcing down the potato with several gulps of ale, I cough again and croak, “Yes.”

He frowns at both of us. But before he can ask any more questions, Lyra’s voice rings out.

“Are you going to drink or what?” She raises her eyebrows at Alistair, managing to somehow look both cheerful and half- offended at the same time. “I’ll have you know that I spent a lot of time choosing the best type of ale to go with this spice blend for the meat and potatoes.”

“Oh we know,” Galen mutters from across the table.

“Shut up,” she says, but she’s still smiling. Then she shifts her gaze back to Alistair and nods towards his still full tankard. “So why aren’t you drinking it?”

Crossing his arms, he gives her a dubious look, as if the reason should have been obvious. “They hate us.”

“So?”

“So they probably spit in it.”

Lyra pauses with her tankard halfway to her lips. And so do the rest of us. I quickly put mine back on the table while trying to remember if the ale tasted strange or not when I drank it earlier. It’s hard to tell. But then again, spit is tasteless. Isn’t it?

“Huh.” Lyra glances down at the ale in her mug, already half empty, before cocking her head. “I didn’t think about that.” She meets Alistair’s gaze again. “How’d you figure?”

He draws his eyebrows down, trying to scowl, but ends up almost looking a bit embarrassed. Then he shrugs. “It’s what I would’ve done.”

A laugh rips from her throat. It’s so unexpected that the rest of us draw back and blink at her in surprise.

But she just keeps laughing, almost making the ale slosh over the top of her tankard before she manages to set it down on the table.

Her orange eyes glitter as she turns to meet Alistair’s gaze fully.

“We should totally team up some time,” she says, a sparkling grin on her mouth. “Can you imagine the level of trouble we could make together?”

“Oh no,” Galen interrupts, raising a finger at her in warning. “Don’t rope him into that. You alone are enough of a menace.”

“Menace?” She presses a hand to her chest in an exaggerated look of shock. “Me? I would never.”

“Uh-huh. Remember that time when?—”

“I don’t get you,” Alistair blurts out, interrupting their argument. His orange and green eyes are wide and filled with such genuine bafflement that it’s almost comical. Shaking his head, he stares at Lyra with those wide eyes. “Like, at all.”

Lyra turns back to him and blinks in confusion. “What?”

“Why are you being nice to me all the time?” There is an almost desperate note to his voice. Holding her gaze, he shakes his head in disbelief again. “I’m a rude, angry bully.”

Surprise flits across Lyra’s face, as if she’s shocked that he would describe himself in such a way.

Then that easy smile returns to her features, and she slaps Alistair’s arm with the back of her hand.

“Nah. You’re just a little grumpy.” She shrugs.

“And I happen to like grumpy people.” A conspiratorial grin spreads across her mouth, and she nods towards Galen.

“Why do you think I’m friends with that one? ”

“I’m not grumpy,” Galen protests.

“Oh please. You’ve spent two hundred years sulking because Draven—” She cuts herself off, panic flashing across her face as her gaze darts to Draven.

I brace myself, waiting for that awkward tension to yet again settle over us and strangle the previously pleasant mood.

But instead, Draven slams both palms down on the table so hard that the utensils rattle and two of the mugs jump in surprise.

“Enough!” he snaps. “Enough with the guilt!”

Both Galen and Lyra draw back, looking stunned.

Draven rakes both hands through his hair and forces out a long breath, composing himself again. Then he looks between his two friends and repeats in a softer voice, “Enough with the guilt. It’s not your fault that I was ambushed and trapped and enslaved with dragon steel.”

“But we—” Galen begins.

“Listen to me.” He holds their gazes one at a time, his own eyes pulsing with calm authority. “It was not. Your. Fault.”

Pain and heartbreak swirl like a storm in Galen’s eyes. And Lyra bites her lip, her own eyes glistening, as if she has to physically hold back tears.

“We should have known,” Galen says, his voice barely more than a broken whisper, as he holds Draven’s stare with those desperate eyes of his. “ I should have known.”

Draven shakes his head, his gaze softening. “How could you have known? No one knew that dragon steel was still in play. That they had kept some of it and used it in secret these past six thousand years. I didn’t know either. And without that, there was no other explanation for my behavior.”

“I should have figured it out.”

“You tried. I know you.” A small smile ghosts across Draven’s lips for a moment. “I watched you. You spent the first forty-two years trying to figure out why I was acting the way I was before you gave up. Forty-two years, Galen.”

Galen swallows hard, a tear escaping the corner of his eye and slipping down his cheek. His voice is thick as he glances away and repeats, “I should have figured it out.”

“Look at me.”

Wiping away the escaped tear, he turns back to meet Draven’s gaze.

“What I said back in the barracks after Selena cut out the dragon steel,” Draven begins, holding his best friend’s gaze with serious eyes.

“I didn’t mean it. I was angry and frustrated and worried because everything had just gone to hell, and I took it out on you.

But I didn’t mean it. It wasn’t your fault.

And you couldn’t have known about the dragon steel. ”

Galen draws in an unsteady breath. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Me too. And I hate how much time we’ve lost because of this.” He looks from Galen to Lyra and then back again. “So please, stop with the guilt and the hesitation and all the walking on eggshells around me. We’ve already lost two hundred years of friendship. I don’t want to lose a single day more.”

Lyra swallows thickly and then nods, her eyes brightening again. Across the table, Galen draws in another shuddering breath as he holds Draven’s gaze.

And then he smiles.

Warmth floods my soul. Draven deserves this. He deserves everything. Friends. Family. Love. Freedom. Good food and lazy days and happiness. Winds and open horizons. A future full of endless possibilities.

A sudden overwhelming urge fills me.

Draven deserves everything . And I’m going to make sure he gets it.