Page 25 of I Dream of Dragons

Or Jai.

He whispers an order, tugs on the reins, the impressive muscles in his back shifting and bunching, and the drak’s descent slows. The winged reptile rears up and skims over the waves, so close their foam wets my face. We sweep upward in an arc, avoiding what I thought was a certain crash into the sea.

My heart pounding, I lick salt off my lips and hold on tight to Phaethon, still waiting for the draks following us to finish us off.

But after a while, or maybe just a heartbeat, I realize they have fallen back. We coast through the air, and pressing my nose to Phaethon’s back, I catch a whiff of male musk and bitter tea, smoke and leather that is so him.

My body clenches with desire. How is it possible that it reacts with lust in such a situation?

But let’s be honest. My body was startled but happy to be pressed to his back since the moment I landed in this saddle. It’s such a gut instinct, such a deep sense of belonging that governs my body when I’m with him, that the circumstances don’t seem to matter.

Somehow I know that I’d want him in the heat of battle, in the spiral of death, in the chase through the flames and the cold waters of the underworld.

And right now I throb between my legs, throb so badly a whine winds up my throat, muffled against his soaked shirt. I’m choking on his scent, on the feel of his powerful body, those solid muscles pressed to the aching tips of my breasts, that iron-hard stomach on which my hands are resting.

I’d want him even if he were possessed by something worse than an ancient Eosphor full of malice and bitterness with plans to join the fae king in conquering more worlds, breaking open the seals between this plane of existence and the next for his own nefarious purposes.

Is there anything worse than that, than wanting the enemy?

What in the hells is wrong with me?

The drak circles downward, breaking me out of my daze.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice instantly snatched away by the whistling wind.

“To the platform. You wanted to play the game, follow the clues.” He lifts the key to the side so I can see it, with the tatters of the red flag trailing. “Take it.”

He got it for me, like he said he would.

“You didn’t seem to care about what I wanted earlier.” I reach for the key, my hand shaking, and manage to snag it. I shove it into my belt, panicking before I can wrap both arms around him again.

“I don’t. But again, Jai does.”

Warmth licks up my cold neck and face. “You make it sound like he gives a damn.”

“That’s because he does.”

Maybe so, but even under better circumstances I wouldn’t want to come second in his heart.

“What about you?” I ask as we fly toward the platform.

“Me?” A pause. “Are you asking if I give a damn?”

“I’m asking where your key is.”

“I’m already using it.”

“What?”

“It’s not a key, it’s a rod for the drak harness. They want you to ride a drak to the palace. These particular saddles have this rod and won’t hold without it. It notches into the harness. So you see, taking you to the palace won’t cost you the victory.”

But his words remind me of Amaryll who had figured it out first, and speaking of whom… I glance down at the churning waters of the arena. “We have to get the others, Mera, Amaryll and Axwick before we head to the palace.”

He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t give any sign he’s even heard me. Without seeing his face, it’s hard to tell what’s going through his mind.

My arms are cramping from holding on so tightly. We’re flying low over the water now, droplets spraying my face and hands, the ruckus of the waves crashing against the walls of the arena and the platform too loud.

“If we can fly around,” I shout, hoping he can hear me, “take a look in case any of them are?—”