Page 11 of The Ballad of the Last Dragon
Chapter Eleven
“ T ell us another one, Syl,” Aeron’s mouth pulls in a lazy grin, and it’s almost a parody of his usual smile. “I could listen to you spin your tales for hours.”
Drink has loosened his tongue and glazed his eyes, so I don’t put much stock in that statement. Jaromir clenches his jaw and glares at the fire.
“First of all,” I begin with a wave of my hand, “you needn’t flatter me to hear me speak. I’ll talk whether you want it or not. Second of all, I’m not telling you yarns I’ve spun. These are either handed down or eyewitness accounts.”
“Really?” Cadoc laughs into the bottle of wine we’ve been passing around the fire. “You actually saw a werewolf?”
“Technically I saw a wolf wearing a nightgown, I merely followed the path of logic.”
Neith spits out whatever she’d been drinking from her personal flagon. It smells strong enough to burn a hole in my stomach, so I haven’t tasted it to find out.
I accept the wine bottle from Cadoc and tip it between my lips. It’s my favorite Hawthokian vintage. Deep notes of citrus and berry slide over my tongue. The wine sits warm in my belly, and my cheeks burn with it.
A hand reaches out, beckoning for the wine.
Jaromir.
I pass him the bottle, allowing our fingers to touch. If he notices, he doesn’t let on. He makes a show of slowly sipping from it, and curse my traitorous thoughts, I’m stuck on the fact that he’s putting his mouth where mine’s just been, and why can’t I forget the way he tastes—
“Syl?” Aeron calls from across the fire. “Another tale?”
I could tell him The Bard’s Final Tale. It seems fitting since it involves a bard and a dragon.
“This is a tale of betrayal and redemption. A loss of passion before finding the strength to feel again. It begins with a man—”
“Was he handsome?” Cadoc leans heavily on his hand, fluttering his eyelashes at me.
“That isn’t the point of this story.” I don’t want them to fixate on his face. I want them to feel his terror, the way his heart batters against his ribs as he faces down a dragon.
“I’m a visual person,” Cadoc insists.
“Fine! He’s quite striking. Red hair, green eyes, and a freckled nose. So the man is a disgraced bard who hasn’t had the ability to perform for an audience for five years. He takes a job hunting a dragon, but when the rest of his company is slain, he must rely on his wits and storytelling to distract the dragon long enough to—”
“But why would talking distract a dragon?”
Neith glares at Cadoc and lightly swats the back of his head. “If ye’d shut yer gob, ye might find out.”
I laugh, and my gaze meets Jaromir’s. For once, he doesn’t look away. He holds my stare, and something about the way the firelight flashes in his eyes makes the space between us both too close and achingly far. Images of how he pressed me against a tree flood my mind. The rough scrape of his beard, the low hum in his throat, the liquid slide of his mouth. My head spins as my skin heats. The wine sits heavily in my belly, and I’m not sure if I can remain upright.
“I’ll continue in just a moment.” My voice is breathless, and I only slightly sway when I stand. “Afraid the wine’s gone to my head.”
I step away with as much dignity and grace as I can muster, seeking the nearby river to cool the fire in my cheeks. Plopping down by the riverbank, I cup the cold, fresh water in my hands and splash my face. I need to find a way to be around the man without losing all sense. I’m supposed to be avoiding distraction, not welcoming it. And yet…
My thoughts loop on a constant refrain. He’s a never ceasing shadow I can’t seem to shake.
Footsteps approach, not even bothering to be quiet. It’s a fool’s hope to expect Neith or Cadoc has followed me.
I glance up to find Jaromir, his dark eyes narrowed in disapproval. “Are you going to be sick?”
Gazing back down at the water rushing over smooth stones, I steady my breath. “I’m not sick. The heat of the fire mixed with the wine. I just needed to cool off.”
Jaromir crouches beside me, placing a large hand into the water. He brings it back out again, dripping cooling relief against my hairline, the back of my neck, and when he reaches my throat, I let out a treacherous moan.
He freezes, hand in midair, while I wish I could sink into the earth. His throat bobs, and he’s cupping more water—this time bringing it to my mouth. It seems too intimate, downright uncouth for me to drink it from his hand, and yet I do—all under his watchful gaze gradually increasing in heat and intensity.
Perhaps the wine emboldens my tongue, but I let it scrape against his palm, if only to see what he’ll do. His eyes flick to mine, a silent question in them. An unnamed emotion I daresay resembles a commingling of heat and hope.
Jaromir clears his throat, glancing away. “Should I fetch Aeron for you?”
My mind stutters on the absurdly random question he poses. “Why would I want Aeron?”
He tilts his head so he’s only half looking at me. His chest rises and falls with each breath. “If there is anything between the two of you, I will not get in the middle.”
My cheeks flush even deeper at the accusation. He thinks… he actually thinks I have a secret romantic entanglement with Aeron, even after our little frolic in the woods?
“I would never involve myself with multiple parties, and I certainly wouldn’t hide it. Admittedly, it’s flattering you think I possess such skills at multitasking, but rest assured, my relationship with Aeron is strictly professional.”
I’m tasked with writing his story. No one would ever believe a lover’s word of his exploits, and I have no interest in being his lover. He’s handsome and ridiculous, but I don’t feel that pull toward him. The one that starts low in my belly and fills me with a frantic sense of urgency.
The pull I feel to Jaromir.
I study his reaction, searching for signs of doubt. But Jaromir studies me right back, his gaze arresting on my mouth. His own lips part, and I can practically taste them from memory.
The last time, he kissed me. He took my mouth with a bruising intensity, it only seems fair I return the favor.
Before I can question this line of thought, my hand is grabbing the back of his neck and hauling him toward me. He could resist—he’s far stronger than I am—but he seems so startled by this, he loses his balance.
One thing I’ve failed to remember—
We’re beside the river.
Our teeth clack from my hurried assault just as we tip over the edge and into the water. Frigid cold clings to my clothes, seeps into my skin, and freezes my blood. I flail wildly, only sinking beneath the surface where the pressure against my ears blocks out all sound save for the gurgle of the river and the distant, muffled sound of my scream. Strong hands pull me up, and I’m pressed against his firm chest, eagerly gulping down air.
“Gods, Syl. Are you all right?”
I blink the water from my eyes to see his wet hair dripping down his face, concern etched on his impossibly handsome face.
I laugh. What else can one do when they attack someone and utterly fail at seduction. His brows draw together as he examines me before a smile starts to tug at his mouth. A small laugh escapes his lips until it builds, rich and deep, filling me with its baritone sound. His laugh makes something warm and soft curl in my chest, like a comfort I never knew I wanted. It begins as a guarded sound, almost rusty, until he loses himself in earnest at the ridiculousness of the situation. Now, we’re both dripping wet and laughing like lunatics.
I knew his laugh was worth earning. If I thought he was handsome before, I’m positively blown away by the way he looks when his joy is an unfettered thing, and the clouds that seem to permeate his expression part to reveal a sight more stunning than the sun.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” I finally say. My mirth has died down to a grin I can’t seem to wipe off my face despite the soreness of my cheeks.
“What was supposed to happen?”
It occurs to me, I’m still pressed against him, with nothing but soaking wet clothes between us. Heat pools low in my belly, and my blood warms beneath my pebbled skin.
“I was supposed to ravish you, obviously,” I say with a tight laugh. And if I was stupid enough to believe that might lessen some of the tension between us, I’m sorely mistaken. It only coils tighter, tauter, as his gaze darts to my mouth. “I could try again.” I wet my lips, reveling in the way he follows the movement. “If that sounds agreeable.”
“I’d be disappointed if you accepted defeat so easily.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it feels like a deafening challenge. I tip my chin, seeking his mouth, and he lowers his to mine—
“Why are you in the river?”
I freeze, and glance around Jaromir to find Aeron standing there, blinking with wide-eyed confusion.
“I fell in,” I say quickly, “and accidentally pulled Jaromir in with me.” I smile up at Jaromir, expecting to find traces of his amusement—
But his mouth is a tight line, his eyes anywhere but meeting mine.
Jaromir lifts me to the riverbank, setting me down before putting far too much distance between us. “We should get dry clothes and sit by the fire. Don’t want to catch sickness.”
Sickness from the river in summer? Horse shit. But Aeron nods emphatically, even sweeping out a hand to help me. It seems appropriate to accept that hand, but when I turn back, Jaromir’s glower has returned in full force.
Whatever the reason, he doesn’t want Aeron to know about us. About whatever keeps almost happening. I can’t say if it’s because he doesn’t believe me that Aeron and I are colleagues and nothing more, or because he’s ashamed of me.
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. He’s taken no issue with me being an elf, but perhaps this is one step too far.
Pushing the thought away, I make my way back to camp, pretending to listen to whatever Aeron is saying.
The pounding headache that greets me at dawn is more than I deserve. The wine churns uneasily in my gut as we plod along the path. Jaromir still hasn’t deigned to speak to me or look at me, which is impressive since I’m pressed against his chest and thighs as we ride. Something has changed in him since last night. I saw a glimpse of that passion when he held me in the river and nearly picked up where we left off that day in the woods, but after Aeron’s arrival and our quick return to camp, he’s been distant ever since.
Aeron looks ready to pitch sideways off his horse, and he’s forgone his heavy plated armor. A blessing, too, for the blinding light off steel would be enough to make me lean over and retch. Cadoc isn’t fairing much better, and a sheen of sweat dots the back of his neck. Both appear to be valiantly fighting the battle of will and stomach contents, while Neith—who outdrank everyone and with that rancid swill she refused to name—is the picture of health and comfort. She rides high in her saddle with a smug smile dusting her mouth.
I admire this. Her unapologetic air. Too often, us women can dim ourselves for the sake of other’s comfort.
It’s this thought that sharpens a sense of boldness in my chest.
“Why do you seem to want nothing to do with me after what happened by the river?” In the river, really.
Jaromir stiffens before offering his hushed response. “I didn’t think you wanted everyone to know your business.”
By everyone, he means Aeron.
I’m no fool. Jaromir feels something for me, even if there’s an unspoken line in the sand. I can’t quite remember who put it there, but I wish to cross it and see what happens. Why should I deny myself what I want? At first, I thought to save myself the distraction, but now I’m sure the distraction is in the unknown. Denying myself hasn’t saved my thoughts from being plagued with him. Once we complete our quest, I doubt I’ll ever see him again, so what’s the harm in having a fair bit of fun while we travel? I got caught up in the idea that I would want more from him than that. It isn’t as if we’re forging emotional bonds here.
And if he needs further encouragement to trust I want him, not Aeron, I can provide that.
I steel my nerve and run my fingers lightly over Jaromir’s knuckles. He inhales a sharp breath at the contact, so I do it again.
“What are you doing?” he murmurs against my ear, and oh, I shiver at that.
I turn my head to whisper against his skin. “I’m wondering what it will take for you to find your way to my tent tonight.” My cheeks burn at my choice of words, but I can’t bring myself to regret them. Not when he tightens his arms around my waist, pressing me even closer against him.
“To what end?” His voice has a playful edge, but I can recognize the real question behind it.
Now is not the time for declarations. I run the risk of scaring him off if I play this too heavily. “Hopefully we both find our end, otherwise I’ll think you a most selfish bedmate.”
One of his hands splays across my thigh, and his touch is an exquisite torture. “I’ve never been accused of being selfish by anyone I’ve ever lain with.”
I ignore the stab of jealousy at the thought of him with others. That sentiment will ruin the game. Instead, I let out a dark laugh. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
He makes a noise suspiciously close to a growl. “I’ll have to earn your good opinion.”
His fingers trace my inner thigh. It’s a good thing we’re taking up the flank, but all it would take is one of our travel companions to look behind to see the state I’m in.
It’s this vulnerability I hope he recognizes. Here we are in broad daylight, and I’m propositioning him into this game of brazen pursuit. Of who will pull back first. It won’t be me, not even if Aeron glances back at us.
Everything is so much simpler when you admit the things you want without fear or shame.
When he finds the spot between my thighs, all strength flees my body. All he’s doing is caressing me through the layers of my trousers and smallclothes, and fire lances through my blood. Images of what it will be like when he sneaks into my tent, into my bedroll, flood my mind. When we have nothing between us, and he can show me how generous a lover he supposedly is.
Welkin above, we should have done this days ago.
I let my head fall back against his shoulder, and his lips find my temple. This feels more intimate than the teasing hand between my thighs, and I turn my face, seeking his mouth. He lets me barely kiss him before he’s angling his head away and whispering in my ear.
“Later. For now, just let me touch you.”
I’m molten liquid at his words and his touch, but up ahead, the sound of Cadoc whistling carries back to us. Neith says something undecipherable, and Aeron lets out a loud laugh. No one has turned around, but if they did, I’m sure my face would give us away. I whisper back to Jaromir, praying to the goddess the others don’t check on how far behind we’ve let ourselves fall.
“Is this why you were so mean to me? Because you were aching to touch me? What a needy, wanton thing you’ve turned out to be, Jaromir.”
He laughs as his hand finds the laces to my trousers, loosening them enough to slip in, and now only a thin layer of cloth separates his thick fingers from the spot I desperately want him to focus on. “You never stop talking, do you? I can’t tell if tonight I should gag you or make you scream so everyone hears you.”
I bite my lip with a groan, and he laughs again.
His voice and his fingers are all I hear and feel, save for the heat crawling up my spine and neck. Nothing else exists outside this moment, where his hand mercilessly draws a gasp from my chest.
I almost miss the sharp whistle as it flies past us, a blur of movement sailing into the thicket. Another whoosh , this time with a thunk as an arrow sinks into our horse’s ribs. When it rears up, I fall back, and the ground rushes up to meet me.