Page 13 of Court of Rivals (Their Dragon Rider #1)

A laric

This Harper woman is a problem in every sense of the word.

The instant she stepped into our world something fundamental and deep changed for all of us.

It’s not just that she has control of the most powerful dragon any of us has ever seen, it’s that she herself seems to radiate a kind of power that lures every dragon rider under her spell.

I’ve seen beautiful women before. Far too many.

So many that their names and faces blur together into nothingness.

Harper is not one of these women who have faded away in my mind.

I can honestly admit that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Her hair is long and golden, flowing around her face in waves.

I’ve never thought much about women’s hair before, but a man can’t help but picture grabbing that length of hair in his hand and jerking on it while he eases inside of her.

Her hazel eyes have got to be the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life, and they’re expressive, telling all of us exactly what she thinks and feels without her even opening her mouth.

Again, my mind wanders into places it shouldn’t, picturing just what those eyes would do if I made her come.

Her cheekbones are high and sharp, so sharp that I want to run my finger along them just to see if I’ll be cut.

And her body? It’s made by the gods themselves.

If our laws were fair and good, Harper would never be allowed to wear such form-fitting clothes in front of a group of viral and aroused men. She’s a temptation. A villainous woman here to drive us wild.

“I wonder if we’ll have to watch her fly her dragon again,” Lord Byron mutters beside me.

“The girl doesn’t deserve to have a dragon like him, she hasn’t earned it,” Lord Pierce whispers back.

Anger courses through me, and I can’t hold back, “One of us should have the dragon.”

Shouldn’t we? My anger feels wrong, and yet it’s there. Not as strong as my brothers’, but there’s a deep sense of injustice that simmers inside of me. A sense of injustice that I can’t seem to ignore or escape.

Even though I’m not really sure whether or not I’m more angry at her or my father.

I guess it’s easier to be mad at her.

“She’s a commoner,” Lord Byron says, his voice just a little louder, and the men around us nod.

“She’s a woman,” Lord Pierce adds, and people turn to look at us, agreement in their faces.

That anger inside of me grows. An anger I’m not familiar with. I am not a hot-tempered man. Actually, I’d be described as the exact opposite. And, I’ve certainly never directed my frustrations at a woman before. And yet, I can’t seem to shake a deep sense of outrage.

This is wrong. All of this.

My brothers always said that my greatest weakness was my sense of right and wrong. They said that I see the world in black and white, but I’ve never felt that I was that way until now. Her having that dragon is wrong . There’s no other way to view all of this.

My father has made me work for every single thing I’ve ever gotten in my life.

My earliest memories are of training. Of standing out in the rain on one foot for hours, showing my endurance, even though that ended in weeks of being sick.

My birthday, holidays, and weekends were spent training.

Running obstacle courses and fighting, while other kids were laughing and playing.

I earned my dragon. I earned my place here.

She did nothing . Nothing except, well, protecting a dragon.

But I push the thought away, focusing on my anger instead.

One night of bravery doesn’t equate to what all the rest of us had to do to earn our dragons.

My father simply handed her the world. But she will see very quickly that those who are handed things of great responsibility, fail.

And if we can teach her as much, at a faster pace, then we will be sure to do it.

And when she fails, I will teach the male dragon to obey me.

The others will finally see me as the greatest prince, superior to my brothers, at last.

And I’ll try not to picture her face. Or think of how she feels. If I do, my resolve will crumble.

We make it to the training yard and get to work.

I strip off my shirt and lift weights, telling myself not to look at the woman.

That seeing her would do no good. My men, all the current dragon riders in training, are spread out all around me.

Some run laps. Some walk the balance beams. A few men climb robes.

All of us getting warmed up before the real fighting begins.

I begin to do pullups, breathing hard, already sweating, when I happen to glance over at Harper.

She has tiny weights she’s lifting, but her eyes are locked on me.

My breathing stops. My cock gets instantly hard.

And rather than do what I want to do, I continue my pullups.

Gritting my teeth, my gaze sweeping over the generous swell of her breasts, her waist, her curvy hips, and below.

Images fight their way into my mind, and my desire for the beautiful woman swells painfully. Yet, she’s not a creature of desire. The root of my infatuation. She’s my rival. An enemy. Someone I will stop at nothing to take down.

A bell sounds, and everyone instantly moves to the circles that have been painted onto the ground on this side of the training yard.

A dozen or more men surround each circle, except for Harper, who comes to stand directly across from me.

Her feet barely on the edge of the circle.

She seems hesitant, almost afraid, and I realize this is a good moment. A time to put her into her place.

Stepping into the circle, I say, “Harper, I challenge you.”

Those brilliant hazel eyes of hers, a mirage of green, blue, and brown, widen at my challenge. She inches into the circle, hands clenched at her sides. “Shouldn’t I watch how it’s done first?”

“You’re a dragon rider,” I say, my words dripping with anger. “You should know how to battle.”

The men around me cheer, and then they kneel down and begin to pound their hands against the dirt in a rhythm.

The rhythm seems to roll through my body, through my chest, making me feel like a warrior in battle instead of a man facing a woman.

I appreciate it. I need it. In normal circumstances, I’d never fight a woman.

Never risk hurting a woman. But these are not normal circumstances.

If she wants to play with the big boys, let her see what it means to play with them.

We begin to circle each other as the pounding continues. Their words, “beat her, beat her,” ring through the air.

I feel massive. Untouchable. A god to my people. A god who is here to teach someone a valuable lesson.

As we keep circling each other, I get irritated.

Deciding just to run straight at her, I do, intending to knock her over, but she drops low and sweeps my legs out from under me.

I go flying back and hit the ground. Hard.

Sucking in deep breaths, I flip onto my feet, then turn to face her, feeling some of my cockiness easing.

She might seem to know nothing, but, apparently, she knows enough to make me look like a fool.

I run at her again, watching for her little trick, but this time she steps to the side at the last minute and trips me. Smashing into some of the men who encircle us, they push me up, and I’m on my feet again, seething with anger.

“You’re not a dragon rider,” I tell her as we circle each other. “You’re never going to be a dragon rider.”

“Then, why are you so intimidated by me?” she asks, cocky as fuck. “It can’t be because I bet you in a dick measuring contest, because I don’t have one, so is it just knowing that if I had one I’d be bigger?”

My eyes narrow. “Why not just walk away from this fight? You’re going to get hurt, little girl.”

“I haven’t been the one thrown on my ass twice already,” she counters, and her grin is infuriating.

Managing to get closer to her, we start to grapple, but it’s like she’s covered in oil.

She slips and slides every time I think I’ve gotten a hold on her.

Her body runs down the length of mine when I try to pin her to me, and the movement gets me rock hard again.

The distraction is all she needs to get me on the ground and her on top of me.

She straddles me, and a groan escapes my lips as she tries to pin my arms down.

For some reason, I know I’d let her pin my arms down if all the men weren’t watching.

Hell, I’d hold still and let her do anything she wants to me.

But the men are watching, including my brothers.

She’s squirming on top of me, and my nuts feel tight and ready to explode.

“Come on, you big girl,” I hear my brother Gareth say. “Are you really going to lose to her?”

“He’s the baby of the family,” Lucien adds, grinning unkindly. “Of course he’s going to lose to a girl.”

I jerk my body, then roll, leaping to my feet. She gets to her feet too, and we circle each other. My brothers continue to jeer at me, and my anger rolls in so hot that I’m seeing red. She tries to duck to my side, and I act without thinking, striking out.

My fist hits her face, and she goes down hard.

Hitting the earth as a wave of cheers fill the earth.

I look down at her in complete and utter shock, then glance between my hand and her face.

I never meant to hit her. I would never hit a woman.

Everything was just happening so fast. I was just so angry.

Which isn’t an excuse.

She chose this life. She wanted to be a rider. If she goes to battle, she’ll need to know how to fight. Besides, I wouldn’t feel this way if I hit another man. Or if another man hit me.

Even though head shots are usually off-limits. Not officially, but it’s an unspoken rule between all the nobles who don’t want their faces messed up.

Fuck. Head shots are off-limits. Why the fuck did I punch her in the face?

Nothing eases the pit in my stomach. The one that whispers that I’m a shitty human, and an even shittier man.

Someone grabs my shoulders. My brothers. They have smiles on their faces, but they don’t reach their eyes. Both men look… miserable.

“Good job showing her that she’s not a rider,” Gareth says.

“It’s a lesson she needed to learn.” But Lucien is staring down at her as her vacant eyes stare up at the sky.

It’s strange. My brothers and I never get along. Not about anything. But for once we’re all on the same page, and it seems to be about something that makes us all feel sick.

What the fuck did I do? And who am I becoming?