Page 30 of Veiled Flames (Destiny of Dragons #1)

Twenty

Rosomon

D riven by indignation, I stride from Master Saxon’s tent, choosing to stick to the tree line rather than crossing the open field. I can’t risk being spotted.

My legs are shaky and tired, like I’ve climbed a mountain, and my cleft holds the physical memory of the friction and fullness of Saxon, as if his rod has taken up residence in my channel.

I’m throbbing and tender, but it’s a good feeling, my body reminding me of every place he ventured, and of all of the new things he made me feel.

Things he will never do again.

My fury-fueled energy runs out, and I drop into a crouch, head in my hands.

What just happened? It’s like I lived an entire lifetime over this night, the highest of highs, followed by the lowest of lows.

If only I could focus on the joyous feelings—the wonder of discovering sex, the pure elation of Saxon’s flattering, tender words—and wash away my rage from our final conversation.

It’s difficult to decide what made me angrier: the multitude of insults to my gender, or his assumption I’d simply go along with his plan, that I’d be happy to serve at camp as his courtesan. That would be little better than the forced marriage I escaped.

No. I shake my head. Serving as his courtesan would be far better than that fate—there is no comparison between Master Saxon and King Vyktor, but I won’t willingly land in a position of servitude to a man again. At least not so soon.

I straighten from my crouch. Wallowing in self-pity won’t help. I must focus on the positives, of which there are many.

I’ve learned how it feels to be drilled by a man. And I liked it. Very much.

No, I loved it.

And even if Saxon refuses to perform the act with me ever again, I’m certain I’ll find other men more than happy to share such pleasures.

At the moment, I can’t imagine performing sex with anyone beyond Saxon, but that’s just because our night is so fresh, only because I can still feel the deep bruise of his rod throbbing inside me.

With time, that will pass, and I can’t believe that sex will e ver feel bland or hollow. Not for me.

Also high on my list of positives: we will reach the dragon camp tomorrow. Excitement bubbles inside me. Sometime in the near future, I’ll get the chance to bond with a dragon! That tempers my loss from the choice Saxon forced me to make.

His attitude toward women having a chance to become riders was disappointing, but not unexpected, I suppose. I have yet to meet a man who doesn’t consider himself superior to every single woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and in every possible regard. Why did I expect Saxon to be any different?

It’s what all men are taught and shown their entire lives. He may not have ever seen evidence to contradict those lessons. But I plan to do just that.

I will be a dragon rider. I’ve never felt more certain of anything in my life.

A tall figure steps out from behind a tree. I gasp, and my heart starts to race.

“Well, hello there.” Moonlight catches Prince Tynan’s smirk as he stands in my path. “Did you have a good time being railed by the dragon master?”

My heart seizes. He knows I’m a woman. And yet the look on his face is more mischief than malice—I think, I hope.

Not taking his bait, I glare a Tynan, hoping to neither confirm nor deny his accusation. He doesn’t know, he only suspects.

“I didn’t realize that Master Saxon so enjoyed the company of little boys,” Tynan says.

I try to step around him, but he shifts to block me. I could likely get away, but that might confirm his suspicions and make this situation worse.

“I suppose a runt like you needs to offer his bum hole to curry a master’s favor.” He smirks. “Clever boy. Saxon might do his best to keep you alive a few more days.”

Tynan’s smirk is so irritating I want to slap him.

I don’t understand what he means by offering a bum hole.

Then an idea snaps into my mind. Is it possible for a stiff rod to invade that part of a male’s body?

On a female body it’s an exit, not an entrance. Then again, until tonight I thought my cleft hole was only for expelling my courses.

But the one positive of this exchange is that Tynan still thinks I’m a boy. A boy who has let Saxon enter his bum hole. His guess is too close to the truth for comfort.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say calmly. “I have never offered my bum hole to anyone . That’s an activity you enjoy, I take it?”

He laughs. “You are a feisty one. Rosshall is it?”

I don’t respond.

“Well, Rosshall , I know that you’re lying. I saw you. You were in Saxon’s tent for over four hours.”

I swallow, hard, trying to think of a way out of this. “Is drilling bum holes forbidden at camp?” I lean forward. “If it is, I won’t tell anyone you partake.”

Tynan chuckles again, and my annoyance rises. I’m trying to get under his skin, and instead he’s crawled under mine. He’s so arrogant, so certain he has something to hold over me, and my weak attempts to turn it around have had no impact.

“Buggery isn’t forbidden at camp,” Tynan says. “It makes dragon riding far easier.”

That makes no sense, but I won’t be distracted. “You’re wrong about me and Master Saxon,” I say. “But even if you weren’t, what is your problem with me?”

His smirk fills with malice. “If I’m right, it’s Saxon who has a problem. Dragon masters are strictly forbidden from consorting with rider candidates. If anyone else finds out he fucked your tiny ass, he’ll lose his position.”

I fight to hide my reaction. Tynan confirmed what Saxon told me—that our being together is forbidden. And Tynan suspicions could ruin Saxon’s life.

“Good thing you’re wrong, then.” I struggle to keep my voice deep and even, and my body from trembling in the pre-dawn, cold air.

“Don’t worry.” The cruel prince chuckles. “Your secret is safe with me. And if Saxon enjoys plowing your ass, I’d advise you to take his cock as often as possible—while you still can.”

“What do you mean?” I immediately want to bite my tongue.

“Because runt—” Tynan leans forward “—your days are numbered.”

I lean back from him. “You don’t know that.” I’m sick of being underestimated.

“Oh, but I do know.” He leans against the tree trunk beside him.

“I’ve been at camp over four moon cycles and have seen well over a hundred candidates meet horrible deaths.

And every single one of those candidates was bigger and stronger than you.

” He shrugs. “You won’t last a day.” He turns and takes several long strides away.

“You’re as cruel as your grandfather!” I shout.

He spins back, closing the distance between us before I fully recognize the foolishness of my tongue.

Landing directly in front of me, Tynan’s face, his entire body is churning with anger. He’s so tall and strong his mere presence might crush me.

“What do you know of my grandfather?” He glares. “You are not from Khotor.” Confusion invades his expression. “Have we met before, runt?”

I fold my arms over my chest and fight to hide my fear. “Of course we’ve met. I’m Rosshall? Remember ? Have you been knocked in the head?”

“You’ve got a smart mouth for a runt.” Bending, he moves his head closer to mine. Taking my chin in his hand, he turns my face toward the moonlight. “Something about you is familiar.”

My heart stops and then starts racing, but I glare at him, hoping my expression reveals nothing.

He drops his hand from my face, leaving only the heat from his fingers. “What do you know of my grandfather? And how?”

I shrug, fighting to regain my composure. “I’ve heard talk, that’s all. Talk of how he treats his servants—and even his wives—no better than animals.”

My heart gallops. I shouldn’t have mentioned the wives, providing yet another clue to my identity.

“Oh!” Tynan chuckles cruelly. “You’re very wrong about that.” He rolls his eyes. “Grandpapa treats his animals far better than he’s ever treated his wives.”

Still chuckling, he backs away from me, keeping his eyes on my face.

“Mark my words, Rosshall, I will remember where else I have met you.”