Page 2 of Veiled Flames (Destiny of Dragons #1)

Eying a possible path, I prepare to scramble down the riverbank on foot. Even if I tumble, the commotion might be enough distraction to stop this.

Another man on a fine-looking horse gallops from the other side of the bridge. “The sun will soon set,” he calls out. “We don’t have time for this business. Toss the piss wench back in the cart.”

As the man’s words drift up, I test a thick root, considering whether I should descend the bank backward or forward. One way or the other I’ll likely fall, but I must do something to help this poor girl.

Arms like steel lift me from behind.

Someone strong and huge drags me away from the edge.

“Put me down.” I struggle against whoever has grabbed me. “Unhand me!”

A large hand clamps over my mouth as another arm holds me so firmly it forces all the air from my chest. Sky Stallion snorts and backs a few steps away.

The horse’s behavior is disappointingly ungallant, but I suppose I should be grateful that he’s not yet abandoned me.

On foot, I won’t make it home before dark.

My captor drags me into the woods. His hold loosens and he drops me onto my feet. I brace to run, but he lifts me and presses my back against a large owk tree, and the impact once again steels my breath.

The stranger’s heavy cloak covers a tall broad body, and his head, positioned at least a full hand span above mine, is shrouded under a dark hood that shadows his features in the waning light.

Does this dark stranger even have features? Is this a demon, or other creature of Darkness?

No. I calm my worst fears. Such evil creatures, if any exist on this side of the veil, abhor the light, and the sun has not yet set. But even if this stranger is human, he is a man.

Nurse warned me never to be alone with a man. She’s always refused to provide specifics, but claimed if a man ever caught me alone, he would do terrible things to me. Things that would cause physical pain and ruin my future, especially any chance of a marriage.

I don’t want a husband—I have no need for a man to rule over me.

But while that part of her warning was no deterrent, avoiding the company of men is the only one of Nurse’s rules I’ve always followed.

Beyond the servants there are no other women in the castle, so I pretty much avoid the company of anyone beyond my brothers and closest servants.

“Unhand me!” I lift my chin, gathering every ounce of courage and wishing I had a sword to match the one hanging at the man’s side. I left the castle without so much as a meat knife stashed in my bodice. Foolish.

“My hands are not on you,” the stranger says.

And I see they are not. His hands are caging me, pressed against the tree trunk on either side of my head. His body’s proximity is heating my skin, and the strength housed in his body is a palpable threat. I don’t need Nurse’s warnings to understand that this man is a danger.

Glancing to the side, I mentally calculate whether I’m fast enough to leap onto my horse before he grabs me again. I don’t like my odds.

My breaths are coming too quickly, and the man’s scent, like the wind and the forest, consumes my awareness as my heart pounds. Exactly what danger does a man pose to a woman?

The word ‘drilling’ comes back to mind, and a terrifying thought sparks through the fog of the stranger’s enticing scent and his physically dominant presence.

I once saw a massive pole emerge from under Sky Stallion, when he was close to a mare.

Then I heard the mare’s screams when he mounted her, just before I was discovered and ushered away.

Can men’s sausages become long and stiff like a stallion’s? And can they use that stiff weapon to harm a woman, as Sky Stallion injured that mare? Nurse refused to discuss what I saw that day in the stables, and without a mother or confidantes at court, I had no one else to ask.

Suddenly, I feel foolish, childish, for not recognizing what was about to happen down by the bridge.

That must be what the vile king called a drilling.

And possibly why the wench’s dress was soiled with blood.

Although I don’t fully understand how a man’s rod could stab her. Perhaps it becomes sharp like a sword?

Nurse’s warnings now put the fear of Othrix inside me, and for the first time, I wish I’d been born with a scrap of obedience. As much as I long for adventure, I may be in actual danger. What if this man tries to stab me?

“What was your plan?” The stranger’s voice is so deep it vibrates my bones. But his tone, while gruff, contains less malice than I expect, and melts some of my fear.

“Didn’t you see what was happening down by the bridge?” I fight to control the tremor in my voice. “They were hurting that girl.”

“And how would your broken neck have helped her?” His tone shows amusement.

“I had to do something !”

One of his shoulders lifts slightly. “Not even the bravest soul can prevent every wrong.”

“Sounds like a coward’s excuse for inaction.”

His hands and body continue to cage me against the tree, forming solid deterrents to escape.

Glaring up at him, I catch a hint of his shrouded features and inhale a sharp breath.

His hood is likely exaggerating my perception, heightening reality with shadows and imagination, but his strong features and the mystery housed in his eyes stir something deep in my belly.

His heavily-lashed eyes are dark, concealing great mysteries that intrigue me as much as they scare me.

The man chuckles softly.

I am Princess Rosomon of Achotia. I will not cower before this man. And I won’t let him mock me. I straighten my posture. But instead of showing the authority I desire, my adjustment moves my body closer to the threatening expanse of his.

A shriek fills the air, and the wailing cry cuts through the twilight, unlike the call of any creature I’ve heard before.

The man lifts his gaze toward the sky. “The sun is fast setting,” he says. “Given the quality of your stolen mount, I assume you reside within the castle gates?” He pushes himself off the tree. “We must get you home.”

I drag in a ragged breath, shocked at how I miss the strong barrier his body formed, protecting me from whatever evils might lurk in the forest.

“I can get back on my own.” I step toward Sky Stallion, but the much taller man reaches the horse before I do.

“This is a very fine beast.” He pats the steed’s flank.

“Steal my mount, and the wrath of the entire kingdom of Achotia will rain down upon you.”

His palms rise to face me. “I heed your warning, young mistress.” He chuckles, and irritation rises inside me. The hood fully shadows his face, but his mocking is evident in his voice.

“Of course,” he continues, “I’d take your warning more seriously, if I weren’t certain that this steed was stolen.”

Heat rises in my cheeks, because I can’t deny that he’s right. Although, his words confirm that he doesn’t know who I am. Stroking Sky Stallion’s neck, he whispers softly into the horse’s ear, and the beast visibly calms.

“Come,” he says to me in a similar calming tone. “I’ll see you safely back to the King’s stables. That’s where this fine horse belongs. Am I right?”

Before I can answer, he swoops one arm around me as he leaps onto Sky Stallion’s back, hoisting me up to land side-saddle in front of him. His power-filled actions leave me in awe, and one of his strong arms straps around me as he pulls my hip against his spread thighs—solid as rocks.

All the air vacates my chest.

“Ready?” he asks.

Struggling against his hold and fighting for a hint of autonomy, I shake my head. “I prefer to ride astride,” I tell him. “And alone!”

“As you wish.” His arm scoops under one of my legs, and he lifts it across to drop me straddled over the steed. Then his arm straps around my waist, holding me against him, even more firmly than my tightest corset.

His other hand takes hold of Sky Stallion’s mane. The horse neighs, and the man leans forward, bending my body along with his. “Settle, settle.”

His tone is soft and deep, his words kind, and for a moment I’m not certain whether he’s talking to me or the horse. Perhaps both.

Heat builds inside me, a strange stirring I’ve felt only once before, on the day I learned what lies between a man’s legs.

That day, I caught Gerard, one of the stable boys, bathing, and watched, captivated and shocked at how the shape of his body differed from mine.

I stood in awe as I gazed at the hard mounds of his bottom, at the prominent muscles of his back—and then my mouth turned dry as dust, when I saw a sausage and sack hanging between his legs.

The memory coils inside me, warming me with feelings at odds with the danger I’m facing. Dangers my mind believes, but my instincts seem determined to deny. I’ve not yet fully seen this stranger’s face, yet I feel safe in his arms, even as he raises dangerous new feelings inside me.

“Let me guide the steed.” I slide one hand into the stallion’s mane and lightly touch the leather covering the man’s forearm with my other.

“I know the best route—and also the horse.” My hand lingers on his arm longer than I mean it to, and the muscles and tendons housed there flex under my touch. I suck in a ragged breath.

“Letting you guide us sounds dangerous.” His breath licks my ear.

My spine rolls and it moves my back like a wave against his firm body. What has come over me?

I fight to regain my wits. “It would be less dangerous than you using a single hand to control this mighty beast, while holding me captive with the other.”

He chuckles softly. “As you wish.” His breath bathes my throat, and then his lips move even closer toward my ear. “Just remember, it was you who asked me to use both hands to hold you.”