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“Well, it’s a tad harder to remove your leathers when your delicious butt is sitting on them.”

“Said butt can be lifted.”

“I thought you said there will be no sex until I have been fully scrubbed?”

“And the important bits now have been. Besides, a woman is entitled to change her mind, and that rod you have happening is looking desperate for attention.”

“Oh, it is, Princess, it is.”

He tugged off my boots, dumped them beside my jacket, then grabbed the bottom of my undershirt and tore it open, straight up the middle.

“And what,” I said, with mock crossness, “if that was a favorite shirt?”

“I’ll have another one made for you.”

“ That is not the point.”

“No, sex is, so do be quiet and let me concentrate on getting these clothes off you.”

“I’m not one to be silent or do what I’m told.”

“I have noticed that, and I will admit, I find it quite arousing.”

“I’m thinking you’d find any woman arousing when you’ve a hard-on like that .”

“Not any woman. They do have to be conscious and willing, at the very least.”

“So glad to hear you have standards, even if the rumors would suggest otherwise.”

“I suggest you ignore the rumors and concentrate on this—on us . This thing between us is the only thing that means anything, no matter what happens in the future.”

I suspected he was talking about far more than the looming battles we faced on two fronts now, and I really, really wanted to question him about it. But Mom’s warning rang lightly in the back of my mind, so I kept quiet.

For now.

He undid the lacings on my pants, his fingers lightly brushing my skin; every touch, however brief, however inconsequential, had heat and desire stabbing through me. The sexy, almost arrogant smile tugging at his lips suggested he was well aware of it, too.

I rested my weight on my arms and lifted my butt, allowing him to tug the wet leathers from my hips and down my legs. He tossed them beside the rest of my clothes, then briefly—critically—examined the fresh scar on my leg before stepping close again and placing his big hands either side of me, all but boxing me in. I could slip back and get away if I wanted, but who in their right mind would ever want that when this man was so damn sexy?

“It may be just me,” I drawled, “but our current positioning isn’t going to allow any... meaningful... interaction.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I do believe you are right. Perhaps we should fix that.”

He shifted his hands to my butt, then slid me closer to the edge, a position that put my breasts at his mouth level. “Ah,” he said softly. “A meal in the waiting.”

“Hardly a meal,” I retorted. “More a nib?—”

The rest of that sentence was lost in a gasp as his mouth encased my right breast and he sucked hard. A shudder of sheer delight ran through me, and he chuckled, the low rough sound of a man who knew exactly what he was doing and how to please his partner. Which he certainly did over the next heady few minutes as he alternated between my breasts, walking me to the edge of gentle pain first with his teeth before using mouth and tongue to soothe and delight.

Then he journeyed upwards, dropping languid kisses on my collarbone, my neck, my chin, before claiming my lips. Our tongues tangled and teased, testing and tasting each other to the fullest as the kiss went on and on. As desire and hunger surged to heady heights, I slid a hand from around his neck, trailed it down his body, and lightly brushed my fingers across his cock.

He groaned softly, caught my hand and pulled it away, then rested his forehead against mine for several seconds, his body quivering and every breath a harsh, rapid gasp that tore across my lips. Then, still keeping hold of my fingers, he slid his free hand up my thigh and lightly brushed his fingers across my mound. I groaned and pressed against his touch, wanting, needing, a whole lot more. His clever fingers slipped down, finding and teasing my clitoris until I was a shuddering and shaking mess, and so damn wet with need it was almost painful.

“Damn it,” I said fiercely, “if you don’t sheathe yourself in me this minute, I will be forced to take matters into my own hands.”

With a hearty laugh, he slid his hands under my butt and pulled me onto him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and thrust down on him hard, sheathing him so very deeply inside. A low moan of utter pleasure escaped my lips, but I didn’t immediately move. I simply closed my eyes and enjoyed the utter perfection of this most basic human interaction.

Then he made a low, almost desperate sound in the back of his throat and began to thrust, every movement fierce and urgent. I wrapped my arms around his neck again and moved with him, matching his desperation, riding him hard, needing the ultimate release.

When it came, it was glorious. He followed me over that edge a heartbeat later, his body rigid against mine, his seed exploding into me. For several minutes afterward, neither of us moved, our foreheads touching and our rapid breaths mingling.

When I actually felt capable of movement and speech, I pulled back a fraction and said, “It’s just as well I’m protected against pregnancy, because it felt like you were aiming for the ultimate prize at the end there.”

He chuckled softly. “I can assure you, I was simply intent on making every glorious inch of you mine.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done that. Should we leave the thermae and return to our room? You do need to eat.”

“The only thing I need to eat right now is you. In case you haven’t noticed, I have not had my fill of you yet.”

I’d have been hard pressed not to notice, given he remained partially erect inside. No wonder the men of the Velez line had so many offspring—they were nigh on insatiable. “You can’t survive without food, you know.”

“Perhaps I cannot survive without you.” He walked us across the pool, up the steps, and then placed me on my feet. The partial erection was definitely moving into fullness.

“You say the nicest things, even if you don’t mean it.”

He raised an eyebrow. Though amusement teased his lips, there was an odd fierceness in his expression. “I do not often say things I do not mean.”

“You’re heir to the Zephrine throne,” I said dryly, doing my best to ignore the uncertainty that light was causing. “Saying and doing things you do not mean comes with the territory.”

“Perhaps for my father, but I am not he or my brother.” He grabbed the robes and tossed me the smallest. This particular conversation was now over, I suspected—a fact he confirmed when he added, “And given you’ll no doubt be ordering a breakfast at an unforgivable hour so you can go fly with your drakkon, I will rise and eat then.”

“I need to introduce Kele and Hannity to their drakkons and get them used to flying as one—which is going to be harder than it was for me and Kaia, because neither woman can mind speak.” I tightened the sash on my robe. “But you don’t have to get up.”

“Have you forgotten that Hannity won’t get into the aerie without me expanding the spell?”

“I actually had.” I wrinkled my nose. “That reminds me, have you had time yet to scribe home and ask about that combining spell?”

“No, but I’ll send a message once I get back from the cavern. I noticed the other day that your father had a quill connected to Angola.”

“He has them linked to Kriton and other western cities, too, but they’re not often used. Your father does not approve of us approaching his seaport or regional cities directly.”

“My father doesn’t approve of many things at all.” Damon did up his robe, then gathered his clothes and tossed them into the chute before walking around to collect mine. “But the quills do still work, don’t they?”

“Yes.” I opened the door and waved him through. “Wouldn’t it be easier to simply use the one Gayl is holding?”

“Easier, yes. Safer, no. Besides, it’s not paired to Angola.”

“No, but it would be easy enough to send a message and ask for it to be scribed there from Zephrine.”

“I would not trust my aunt nor indeed Zephrine to relay such a message.”

“Why wouldn’t Zephrine pass it on? Is it because they have no drakkons and don’t want us gaining any sort of military advantage? Surely your father wouldn’t be so petty.”

His smile was mirthless. “You have met my father, haven’t you? There is absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do to gain the upper hand and overall control.”

I frowned, wanting to question him further about their relationship but knowing well enough he would not elaborate. So instead, I said, “What is the problem between you and your aunt? You clearly don’t like each other, so why is she staying here with you?”

“You’re astute enough to guess the reason, Bryn.”

“She’s spying on you.”

“She’s my father’s guarantee that everything I report about your father and the developments here is the truth.”

“How, when the only time she leaves her room is when she’s getting her ‘daily exercise’ by walking the wall?”

“She’s a powerful reader and a minor seeress. She cannot read my thoughts or indeed those of anyone from her bloodline, but she can skim the thoughts of many others and sometimes divine their future actions through their thoughts. Her targets here have been all those within the war room.” He glanced at me, amusement lifting his grim expression. “Perhaps I fill you with my seed in the vague hope it can offer you some protection.”

I nudged him; he laughed and staggered sideways in an overly exaggerated movement.

“What’s her range?” I could read or command the minds of animals from a good distance, but from what Fergus had said over the years, his range was nowhere near that.

“Fifty or so feet, but she doesn’t have to be in sight of the person to read their thoughts.”

Which was one up on Fergus—he did have to see the person he was reading. “That’s why her daily exercise walks along the wall happen at random times, and she often takes a break close to the war room section underneath.”

“Indeed.”

There was a part of me wanting to ask why he’d never said anything, but the answer would undoubtedly be the same damn one he’d countered all my other recent questions with. I guess I had to be thankful he was even answering these ones.

“Is there any means of preventing her from reading us? Or divining our future actions?” Túxn only knew, if she’d been listening in to my conversation with my parents this afternoon, that could be disastrous.

“I did bribe a guard a few days ago to let me know if she came to our side of the palace?—”

“And has she?” I cut in, alarmed by both him resorting to bribery and the fact that one of our guards actually accepted it.

“She did yesterday, although the guard said she only used the thermae.”

“Yesterday, but not last night?”

“Yes.” He glanced at me. “I daresay she was getting a discreet update on your condition and what we found in Mareritten.”

At least that meant she hadn’t overheard our conversation about Damon, her, and the spies we had in Zephrine trying to uncover what was going on. “Is there any way to stop her skimming our thoughts when we’re in our rooms?”

“I did warn her that if she came over to ‘our’ side of the palace, even to use the thermae, I would shield our rooms from her. I now have a legit reason for doing that.”

“Which leads to the question—why wasn’t it the first thing you did? And why not also protect the war room?”

“Given how little personal information is discussed there, her skimming the war room will lead to nothing more than a confirmation of what I report.” A smile tugged at his lips, though it held little in the way of humor. “Remember what I said about lives being in danger? I dare not make any move without reason and me shielding the war room without such a reason could lead to consequences I do not want to consider.”

“Damon, you cannot keep making statements like that without providing full context.”

“And that is something I cannot do just yet. You have to trust me, Bryn. Please.”

I drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Fine. But I will not leave for Zephrine until I get those answers.”

“If there’s one thing I can promise, it’s that. I would not expect you to upend your entire existence without knowing the truth of my father’s machinations. What happens after that depends entirely on you.”

“And what the fuck does that mean, Damon?”

“Nothing more than it implies. And yes, I am well aware that these cryptic comments are not helping the situation, but in truth, I have already said too much.” He opened the bedroom door, ushered me in, then locked it behind us. There was a fresh pot of shamoke sitting on a heating pad and a platter of breads, cheese, and cooked meats. Mom, ever thoughtful.

He drew in a deeper breath then sighed. “Would you be horribly put out if I decided to partake in some food before I consume you?”

It was tempting to tell him to forget the very idea of sex until the truth was forthcoming, but that would be punishing me as much as him. And if that made me shallow, then so be it. “It’s not going to take you the entire evening to do said partaking, is it?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then partake away, my dear man, and pour me a shamoke while you’re at it.”

He laughed, poured us both a drink, then sat down and made serious inroads on the platter.

He was as good as his word, though. He didn’t take long, and he certainly did consume me. To say I fell asleep a very boneless but contented woman would be the understatement of the year.

* * *

Dawn’s rosy fingers were creeping across the still-dark sky as we made our way up the mountain. I would have preferred to wait until the sun had fully risen before making the journey, but, according to Kaia, both Yara and Rua were keen to get their “flamers” and start hunting the gilded riders.

Am too , Kaia said. Hate hiding.

You’re not hiding. You’re being appropriately cautious.

Feels like hiding.

I couldn’t help grinning. Have you warned the aerie’s newest residents that they are not, under any circumstances, to attack any human who enters the aerie, be they female or male?

Have.

And will they listen?

Am queen. Will attack if don’t.

Yara is a queen.

Younger. Must obey.

I hoped she did, because I definitely did not want to see Damon or anyone else I cared about end up as drakkon food.

Humans who come here too lean. No extra meat. Not good food , Kaia commented.

I chuckled softly and continued on. It took a little under an hour more to reach the vent, which was a three-foot-wide jagged slit in the otherwise smooth rock face. Though it had never been a lava vent, the air rolling out of it warned of the heat and danger that still bubbled deep under the mountain’s dark heart.

I slung off one of my packs—I was carrying two, along with my sword, bow, and quiver—and dragged out my water flask, taking a drink as I scanned skies filled with clouds and the heavy threat of rain. There was nothing aloft, aside from a smattering of longwings and the black hawks that hunted in this area, and no indication of movement across the distant Mareritten plains far below us.

And yet, I couldn’t escape the sudden notion that something was wrong.

“Problem?” Damon said, as he stopped beside me.

“No. Just grabbing a drink.”

His raised eyebrows suggested he wasn’t believing that statement, but he didn’t say anything.

“How much farther have we got to go?” Hannity asked, stopping behind Damon.

She was young—barely nineteen, in fact, though she’d been in military school since she was fourteen, had been sent on her first scouting mission when she was sixteen, and had her first major encounter with the Mareritt when she was eighteen—and was practically dancing from one foot to the other in her excitement. In many ways, she reminded me of Desta. She had the same sort of build and coloring too—long of limb, with black skin and hair. Her eyes were green rather than Desta’s velvet brown, and the mote in her right eye gleamed a bloody hue in the hazy morning light.

“Probably another hour,” I replied. “You might want to grab a drink while you can.”

“I’m fine. I just want to meet my drakkon, you know?”

I not only knew, but I also totally understood the nervous excitement that practically oozed from her skin. “I also need to send back a quick report, so?—”

“So, there is a problem,” Kele cut in, amusement evident. She, like most fire witches, was long and lean in build, but her hair was a closely shaven blonde and her features made even fiercer by a puckered scar that ran from temple to chin on the left side of her face.

“My father asked me to report when we safely reached the vent,” I said dryly, “and it never pays to disobey your king and commander.”

“A truth I shall not deny, even though we both know you do have a proclivity for doing both.”

I grinned. “Not recently. And if you’re not going to drink, you can take the lead and head in. I’m not sure Hannity is going to survive if we delay too much longer.”

Hannity laughed but didn’t deny it. She stepped to one side of the path to let Kele through, coming so dangerously close to the edge that I half reached out to grab her.

As the two women moved into the vent, Damon said, “You want me to wait for you?”

I shook my head. “It’ll only take a couple of seconds, unless my father is busy with something else. I can catch up easily enough.”

His expression suggested he wasn’t buying my “update my father” excuse, but after a moment, he turned and followed the two women. I dropped my other, heavier pack down beside the first. While Kele and Hannity were both carrying all the gear they’d likely need, I was carrying extra harnesses, ropes, girths, and D-rings. I figured it’d be easier to store an additional supply in the aerie, so we had them to hand if needed.

I dug out the small scribe quill and screen from the side pocket of the first pack then sent, Have reached the vent. Wanted to warn you that Gayl is a reader, and she’s regularly positioned on the section of the wall above the war room, listening to plans and reporting them back to Aric.

The little cursor blinked for several seconds before the reply came through . Damon told you this?

Yes. He said he’ll place a barrier around our room and yours to give us some privacy, but dare not do any more. I hesitated. You can’t let him know I told you, and you can’t confront her.

His pause was longer. Knowing my father, he was probably swearing right now. Whatever threat Aric holds over his son must be dire indeed.

Lives are at stake, he said, remember. The sooner your spies can find out what that means, the better.

I’ll do what I can, but to date, there has been little in the way of information forthcoming. Whatever is happening there, few know about it. I’ll talk to Fergus about Gayl. Perhaps he can come up with a solution to the problem she presents.

Worth a try , I said. But talk to him at the hospital not in the war room. That should be well out of her range.

There was no immediate response, but the little cursor was still blinking, an indication the quill remained active on his end.

Eventually he sent, Have you decided on a direction for your flight today?

Why? I sent back, even as trepidation surged. Has something happened to the Islands? Has there been another attack?

He didn’t reply, not for several, incredibly long seconds.

The Islands remain secure, as far as we’re aware. But we’ve just lost contact with Hopetown .