Page 50

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ESSA

W e dropped out of the maelstrom and into the only shelter we could find—an old underground dragon’s den.

It was perhaps a twelve-foot drop from the opening down into the cave itself, and we rode Othura in. Once inside, the opening turned and extended for another twenty-five feet or so, giving the cavernous space the shape of a sock.

There was some dry grass and pine boughs scattered about—dragon nesting materials—which we gathered together. In moments, I had a fire going. In its tremulous light, Kit walked tracing his fingers over the smooth glassy walls, a look of wonder on his face.

“It’s a dragon den,” I explained. “They dig them out then melt the earth with fire, making dragon glass. This is a small den. It probably belonged to a libran like Othura who had one of their fire-breathing friends finish the walls.”

“Where are the dragons now?” Kit asked with a wary glance toward the entrance.

“Gone,” I said. “Some serve with the Skrathan. The wild ones hunt in the Yrdam Mountains and beyond. They come here to roost four times a year because the conditions are right for the eggs to develop. The rest of the time, the dragons are gone. Migrating. Hunting…”

“Wild dragons,” Kit said in wonder.

We both took in the den’s walls, which glinted in the shifting firelight.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, but his eyes were back on me when he said it. Despite everything, I felt a blush rise to my cheeks.

He ran a hand through his wet hair. “Essa, you did it.”

I gave a faint laugh. “What? Rescued a prisoner of the crown?”

“You won the challenge. You lived.”

My eyes drifted to the fire, its flames shifting and twisting. “Yes…” I said. Though living would do me little good. After this I’d be branded a traitor. Mother might well strip me of the title I’d just earned, or exile me, or worse. Freeing a prisoner sentenced to death would be a capital offense. But there was no point making Kit feel guilty.

“And you’ve won as well,” I told him.

“My duel with Braimar? I’m afraid that was more of a draw.”

I shook my head. “No. I mean you ventured into the land of the enemy. Soon, you’ll be home safe. And I’m sure you’ve gotten more than enough material to write a whole series of articles—maybe even a book.”

He winced at my words. “Essa… I hope you know this is about far more than any article to me.”

He squirmed under my glare, then sighed.

“I know… I have a lot to explain. First of all, I’m sorry for keeping the dragon egg a secret. I was just?—”

I raised a hand, silencing him.

“You know what? Let’s not talk of the world. Or tomorrow. Tonight it’s us. This cave. This fire. Let’s pretend the world doesn’t exist.”

For a long moment his eyes searched mine. Then he reached out a hand, his fingers gently wiping the raindrops from my cheek. “You’re shivering,” he said.

“It’s these wet clothes…” I said, the words coming out a whisper.

His fingers traced down my neck to the clasp that held my cloak in place. He unclipped it and let it fall, then he pulled slowly at the knot that laced up my flight armor, pulling the string. It came free and his hands were at the collar, pulling it down my shoulders. His eyes met mine, a question in them, and I nodded, shivering now from more than just the cold.

He glanced at Othura, but she was already asleep, giving off slow, quietly rumbling dragon snores.

Kit’s jaw clenched, his eyes lit now with a fire like the one I’d seen during his battle with Braimar. A look of power and hunger.

He pulled again and the flight armor slipped from my shoulders. Revealing the sheer, wet undershirt beneath. His hand trailed from my collarbone downward, tracing down my chest, brushing my achingly hard nipple and making my back arch. He found the bottom of the shirt and lifted, pulling it off over my head. He paused then, his eyes roving hungrily over my bare breasts, then back to my face.

“God Essa. All this time, do you know how hard it’s been to look at you?”

I was painfully aware of my missing arm. My hand went to the place where it had been severed, that smooth scar tissue.

But his eyes were on my lips. “You’re so beautiful it hurts.”

Gently, he took the hand that was covering up my injury in his and brought it to his lips. Then his other hand slipped it down my shoulder to take my maimed arm and bring it to his face, too. He kissed it.

“You’re perfect, Essa.”

Tears blurred my vision.

“I’m not perfect,” I said with a bitter laugh.

His arms were around me then, forceful. Strong. “Never say that again.”

This was not a poet’s ferocity. It was a warrior’s. And I felt something stir deep within me. An ache in my belly, a throb between my legs.

“You think I’d let an Admite tell me what to do?” I said with teasing defiance.

“I think you’ll let me conquer you,” he said, his voice deep with longing.

I brought my face to his, nose to nose, forehead to forehead. “I beg you to try.”

His hands were on my waist then, swinging me to the cave floor. His lips slipped over mine, soft but hungry, his teeth bit my lip just hard enough to make my toes curl, then our tongues met—how I wanted to taste him—all of him. His hands went to my wrist and my forearm, pinning me to the ground, his lips kissing beneath my jaw, down my neck, across my collarbone and down my breast. His lips found my nipple and slipped across it—far too gently.

I moaned in longing and frustration. I wanted him—more of him—all of him. I couldn’t wait another second.

“Take off your?—”

“No,” he said.

“No?” I countered, but my protest disappeared as his lips made an orbit of my areola, making my mouth gape in a silent shout of desire.

“No,” he said. “We waited this long. We’re going to make this last.”

Then he took my nipple in his mouth and sucked, his tongue rubbing across as he did. I wrapped my legs around him, grinding my hips against him, the feeling between my legs turning from an ache to a fire.

I couldn’t wait a second more. My hand went to my waist, pulling down my flight pants, and I wriggled out of them. Kit pulled his shirt up over his head, unbuckled his belt. Then he was yanking my boots off, pulling my pants from my feet. He brought one ankle to his lips and kissed it.

“Kit…” I said, a pleading, a warning. He kissed up my calf, my ankle on his shoulder, and ran his tongue slowly, slowly up the inside of my thigh.

“Now,” I panted. “I just want you…”

But he kept kissing upward, his tongue tracing my skin with painful gentleness until it found the center of my desire. He kept it there, moving so, so slowly I wanted to scream. I felt a burning rise in me, my muscles clenching, body throbbing, my nipples so hard they ached. Then his tongue was moving down, teasing over my slit. I could feel how wet I was. Dripping.

“God, Essa, the taste of you…”

His tongue went up again, moving faster now, with purpose. I put my hand on the back of his head and pushed him against me, my hips grinding and writhing, my teeth bared with feral need.

Then my whole body was clenching, waves of pleasure washing over me.

“Now, now!” I pleaded.

“Maybe,” he said, teasing, smiling up at me with wet lips.

“Now!” I commanded. I was ripe, dripping, my whole body beating in time with my heart. I wanted him. Needed him.

No matter how wrong. How forbidden.

I grabbed his arm and hauled him upward, wrapped my legs around his waist.

His face was next to mine, his lips brushing my ear, his muscular body looming over me, dominating and powerful.

“You sure, Essa?” he whispered.

My hand found his ass and drew him to me. Into me.

I was already clenched, already peaking, but he pushed into me with a snarl of pleasure. I cried out, pulling him deeper into me, deeper, deeper, until I felt so full of him I would burst. We moved together, each thrust more forceful than the last, an animal dance that left me wild, feral with longing.

Time seemed to fold in on itself, to lose its meaning. There was only us, only ecstasy and the scent of smoke and the light of flames trembling on the cave walls and the waves of pleasure washing over me again and again like nothing I’d ever felt before.

Finally, I felt him explode inside me. We both cried out together as I peaked again, thumping shivers of aching euphoria washing over me.

When it was over I felt completely limp and satisfied, like I’d been washed ashore on some warm beach.

My eyes opened, I found Kit staring down at me, looking so brutally handsome it hurt to look at him.

“God help me, Essa.” he whispered. “I love you,”

I opened my mouth to respond. There was only one true answer I could give. My body sang with it. My heart ached with it. My soul had melted with it—so that I felt like my entire being was now a warm liquid he held in his cupped hands.

But somehow, my lips wouldn’t say it. The feeling was complete, but my fear was still too much. And so I didn’t speak. Instead, I pulled him to me, his bare body warm against mine. I closed my eyes and tried to feel the beating of his heart through his skin, and I fell asleep smiling.