Page 12 of Court of Rivals (Their Dragon Rider #1)

H arper

It’s weird. I woke up feeling unbelievably horny today.

Like, so horny that I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Well, I did know what to do with myself, but I wasn’t sure there was time for that.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Okay, well, I do know part of the problem.

My mind keeps going back to the princes.

They seem like assholes, and I’m never attracted to assholes, but my mind doesn’t seem to accept that.

It’s like my mind and body are completely at odds with each other.

Assholes can still be good in bed… My thoughts taunt.

I spent a long night picturing them in various ways.

Prince Gareth with his dark good looks. His long black hair.

His deep blue eyes. A body that seems built by the gods themselves.

I’ve never fixated on a guy’s arms before, but this man was obviously in a shirt a couple sizes too small, and I’m not complaining about that one bit.

Prince Lucien is the opposite. Long blond hair.

Green eyes. A little shorter, but not significantly, with his shirt unbuttoned low to show off his hard chest and part of his muscled stomach.

My gods, that’s the kind of man you eat things off of.

And, finally, Prince Alaric. Short brown hair.

Brown eyes. He has the air of someone wrapped up too tightly.

And men who are that tightly wound are bound to explode at some point.

Is it wrong that I kind of want him to explode on me?

Fuck, who am I kidding, I want him to explode inside of me.

Shaking my head, I set my clothes in the wardrobe by the long mirror near the balcony, and then I place my most important belongings around the room.

A cat carved out of wood that Arthur made me.

My dagger I slip into a sheath at my belt.

It’s identical to the one my brothers have.

There’s a drawing an artist made of my family and I on a small piece of paper in a metal frame.

It’s not perfect, but I was lucky to get it.

I put a book on my nightstand called Words of Love.

It’s a collection of poetry I bought from a traveling trader that I adore.

I go to place my necklace down. It’s a metal heart with a locket of Arthur’s hair in it, he has an identical one, but then I decide to put it on.

I could use all the love I can get today.

There’s a knock at my door.

“Come in!” I call.

Roland steps in looking nervous. When he glances at me, his gaze travels from my face down my entire body, which is weird.

I was wearing tightly fitted leather last night too, and I don’t remember him taking this much interest in me.

When he’s done, he seems to have realized what he’s doing, and glances back up, locking eyes, his cheeks red.

“I came to get you for breakfast.”

“Perfect. I like something sweet early in the morning.”

His blush only deepens, and I try not to laugh. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was talking about him or breakfast, but hopefully he’s taking it as a compliment.

We head outside and start walking.

He casts me another glance.

“What?” I ask.

He winces. “The thing is. Well. You see–”

“What?” I prod a little harder.

“All the dragon riders are men.”

“Uh huh.”

“Like, everyone you’ll be spending time with.”

“Yes?”

“It’s just that you’re really pretty. Beautiful.

You know, hot. The men here see a whole lot of good-looking women, but you’re on another scale.

” He seems to realize he’s rambling, while I stare at him, trying to decide if he’s being serious.

“What I’m trying to say is that you might want to wear less…

enticing outfits. The guys are going to have trouble controlling themselves as it is. ”

“So, I wear, what? A dress.”

He winces his head and shakes it. “No, easy access. That’s all they’ll be thinking about.”

“Loose shirt and pants?”

Again, he winces and shakes his head. “Those will come up while you’re riding and give us a full show.” As he says that, his gaze locks onto my boobs.

I cross my arms over my chest. “So, what are you saying?”

His gaze snaps to my face. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was saying.”

I laugh and shake my head. Roland isn’t my type, but he’s also not not my type. If I get lonely enough, I might just have to plow his brains out.

Not that that’s what I should be focusing on.

Keeping an eye on where we’re going, Roland looks like he wants to melt into his shoes when we finally wrap around the circle of rooms that surround the training yard and come to a big inner-door. He stops outside of it, looking nervous.

“When we get in there, you’re on your own.”

Wow, any lady boner I might have had for him is gone.

He gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m not exactly the most popular guy here to begin with, so I can’t be seen being tied to you any more than I have to be.”

“Understood,” I say, even though I want to call him a coward.

He pushes the door open, and I follow behind him into an overwhelmingly loud room.

Roland hurries off, and I’m left staring at five big tables packed with dragon riders.

Delicious-looking food is in the center of each table, and everyone’s grabbing at it, shouting, laughing, and crashing into each other.

I scan the room and finally notice an available spot.

Except, it’s next to Prince Gareth. I look for another spot, hoping to just go unnoticed in a corner, but that’s the only place left to sit.

Squaring my shoulders, I strut to the open spot, ignoring all the men. Ignoring the fact that I’ve never been in a place this loud. And desperately trying to forget that every man in this room is a noble, and I’m the furthest thing from that.

I reach the spot and move to sit down.

Prince Gareth’s deep blue eyes notice me a moment before I sit down, and he places a hand on the seat. “This spot is taken.”

Knowing that backing down to him now will only make my life harder, I say, “Yeah, by me.” Then, sit on his hand.

He keeps his hand under my ass for far too long before jerking it out.

Heat burns between us as I load up my plate and get to eating.

The conversation quiets near where I sit, and the silence spreads until it seems to engulf the room.

I feel all eyes on me, and pretend not to notice as I devour turkey, eggs, bacon, a huge biscuit, and grits.

“You’re not a dragon rider,” Prince Gareth says beside me, his voice carrying through our side of the room.

I swallow, trying to look casual. “You know, Ebron and I were saying the same thing about you yesterday.” I lock eyes with him. “Is it even dragon riding if you’re that slow?”

His teeth clench together, and I actually the hear the sound they make when they do.

Reaching over, I pat his cheek. “Don’t clench too hard. You won’t be nearly as pretty if you break a tooth.”

Someone turns a laugh into a cough near us, and the hatred in Prince Gareth’s eyes deepens. I try not to notice the sharp lines of his cheekbones, or the muscles in his neck. I don’t find this man attractive, I’m just so horny that every guy looks ripe for the picking right about now.

“When you fail, I’m going to be right there waiting to take your dragon,” he says, and his words are a threatening growl.

I sigh dramatically. “You pillow princesses are all the same, just laying back, legs spread, waiting for something to be given to you.”

His mouth drops open.

“You keep staring like that and people will talk.”

He jerks his head away from me and starts slowly eating his food. I smile and return to my food, feeling like I won this round, which I try to enjoy. Only the gods know how many rounds will happen after this and how I’ll do with them.

I’ve just finished eating when a bell tolls.

Everyone starts getting up, so I go along with them.

But as soon as I’m between tables, someone slams into me, nearly knocking me to the ground.

I’ve barely recovered when another hard body slams into me.

I realize their game a few seconds too late and have to watch every step I take as the men continually bash my body with their own.

Someone knocks me onto my knees, but the rest of the group walks around me.

When I’m in the clear, I step back up and dust myself off, embarrassed I let them knock me over.

By the door, the three princes watch, and there’s a look of utter satisfaction on their faces before they head out with the others.

“Assholes,” I mutter.

Unfortunately for them, this bullshit crap isn’t going to get to me. My grandfather and father trained me. Preparing me the way they’d been prepared to be an assassin. Teaching me to fight, and how to use my weaknesses and turn them into strengths. They taught me to be tough. So, I’m tough.

And living with four brothers? They were constantly being rough idiots. Rough idiots who I held my own with. The princes will have to be a hell of a lot worse than this for it to bother me.

Everyone is out the door except for one person. Our gaze catches, and I realize it’s Roland. He looks nervous just talking to me. Like I’m some kind of illness he can pick up, just by standing near me.

“Next we have hand-to-hand training in the practice yard,” he tells me.

“What’s that?” I ask, even though I already have a sinking suspicion I know.

“Basically, everyone selects an opponent and you fight. It’s a way of keeping us in shape, ready for anything, and everyone thoroughly enjoys it.”

I wince. “I’m a lot smaller than these guys.”

His expression is regretful. “Yeah, you are. Do you have any training?”

“Yes, though I’ve never done this exactly.”

He shakes his head. “My advice? Go down fast. End things before you get too messed up.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as we head down the hall.

Still, this can’t be as bad as I think it’ll be. Can it?