Page 46 of Veiled Flames (Destiny of Dragons #1)

Thirty-Three

Rosomon

H e knows. Tynan knows who I am.

The realization in his eyes, the shift in his expression was clear. Even clearer than my belief that he’s not as cruel as his kin. If he’d wanted to hurt me, truly wanted to, he would have acted, instead of stalling with threats.

And if Tynan were as cruel as his kin, he wouldn’t have so much deep fear mixed in with the lust in his eyes. His false grin and threats didn’t hide either one.

Tynan desires me. Even when he thought I was a boy, he desired me. Tynan wants me in the way that Saxon wants me.

And thrix if I don’t want him too.

Now that I’ve discovered what males have on offer, it seems I can’t get enough. At least from certain men.

Is it normal to feel such a strong physical need for not one but two men? Especially two men whom I hate?

I liked Saxon, at first—I still like him a lot—but I can’t forgive his insults or what he did to me last night.

And while I sympathize with how Tynan was undoubtedly raised—watching, as the women in his household were systematically abused and murdered—I can’t imagine ever truly liking such an arrogant and boastful man.

One capable of uttering threats to someone much smaller.

I climb out of my bath and release the plug that Elly showed me how to use. Do other kingdoms, outside of Achotia, have such conveniences? In spite of Elly’s denials, perhaps magic does exist here at camp. Perhaps because it’s so close to the veil.

As I dry my aching, exhausted body, my bed calls out, but the danger of Tynan calls louder. If I do nothing, he’ll reveal my identity. If he hasn’t already.

After Tynan left me, I found Samyull, and my friend found out which room is Tynan’s. Samyull’s eyes filled with alarm when I asked for the information, but then he said he’d do anything to help me, since he owes me his life. Samyull’s exaggerating, but I accepted his favor.

I secure the corset tightly, squashing my bosom, and then dress in a fresh uniform—the one I plan to wear tomorrow. Dressed, I head to the staircase which leads up to the senior candidates’ rooms.

Drunken voices call out, as I reach the top of the stone stairs.

I pause. Peering around the corner, I wait as a group of three candidates joke together, slurring their words and slapping each other on their backs. Finally, they retire to their rooms to sleep off their overconsumption of ale.

The coast clear, I rush down the corridor and stop in front of Tynan’s room. I raise my fist to knock but hear shouting from within. Is he not alone?

Tynan cries out, as if in grave pain, cursing Othrix’s name in a strangled tone. Hand still poised to knock, I wait but hear no further sounds.

Has he been hurt?

Acting on pure instinct, I rap quickly then open the door without awaiting an answer.

The sight of Tynan steals the air from my chest.

Chemise off, he’s leaning against the wall at one side of his bed. Firelight highlights every ridge and hard plane comprising his back, his shoulders, his powerful arms. His hands and forehead rest against the wall, and his back heaves and ripples, like he’s fighting to regain his breath.

“Are you quite well?” I ask him for the second time tonight. My question didn’t land well the first time.

Tynan turns his head to look over his shoulder. His face is flushed. He’s sweating. But then a wide and devilish grin spreads over his face.

“Hello, grandmother .” He turns away from the wall, exposing his rod to me. Although it’s less of a rod at the moment and more of a sausage. Not fully stiffened, his cock dangles, dark red and damp.

Maintaining eye contact, he tucks his long appendage beneath the front flaps of his breeches.

Rod stashed, he strides toward me so quickly that I press my back against the closed door, cursing myself for revealing my fear.

“Did you like what you saw?” He pats his flap. “Alas, it may take a few minutes before my cock is prepared to slice you in two. But I am grateful that you saved me the trouble of going to your room to do it.”

My cheeks heat, and I curse that part of me too. My body keeps betraying me.

“Given the way you insulted my family.” Tynan glares. “I should drive a sword through your belly this instant.” His eyes narrow, turning darker. “But I think I’ll drive something else hard and long into you first.”

He cups his hand over his flap and squeezes. “My rod is very long, it will soon be rock hard, and it can mete out brutal punishments when I demand it.” He licks his lips. “I cannot wait to hear you screaming for mercy.”

My insides throb. How can I hate a man so strongly and still want him to drill me?

Even if he drills me hard and roughly like Saxon did.

The idea of something similar with Tynan excites me, almost as much as his threats terrify me.

I’m just as afraid of what he might say to expose me, as what he might do to my body.

I raise my chin, fighting to hide my fear. “Is that your price?”

“My price for what?”

“If I let you drill me, will you keep my secret?”

Shock flashes over his face, and he takes a few steps back, shaking his head. Then he laughs. “I have no need to bribe a woman to take my cock. Any wench at camp willingly spreads for me. They oft fight over my rod. I have no use for you.”

“That’s good to know,” I respond, trying to hide how my body is trembling. “Because without your pledge to keep my secret, I won’t let you touch me, and no man of honor would drill an unwilling woman.”

Something that looks like amusement flashes over his face. “What makes you think I have honor?”

He squeezes his flap again, and when his hand drops, his rod has stiffened. It’s pressing against the leather and seems much larger than the sausage he exposed to me when I entered the room.

Raising my gaze, I clear my throat, trying to get back on track. “It would be no shock to discover you lack honor,” I say. “Given your lineage.”

He strides forward. “Are you insulting my family— again ? Do you want me to kill you?”

Heart racing, I look away, cursing my words. I need to get Tynan on my side. Whether or not I let him drill me, it won’t serve to make him angry.

“I’m sorry for the insult.” I turn back to face him. “Those men are your family, no matter how?—”

“How cruel ?” he sharply finishes my sentence. “How barbaric? Brutal? Repulsive? What did you mean to say? Use your words, Princess .” He glares at me, but I sense a grin fighting to spread across his face. He’s toying with me. Pretending to be angrier than he is.

But I have no words to offer, not without delivering further insult.

He takes a few steps back and leans one arm against his wardrobe. “You’re not serious, are you?”

My mind spins, trying to suss out what he means. Between my verbal missteps and the throbbing between my legs, I’ve lost track of our conversation. “Serious about what?”

“You can’t possibly believe you can maintain your ruse as a boy. You can’t mean to continue at camp.” He frowns. “Even if you were a boy, you’re too small.” He shrugs. “And girls can’t ride dragons.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.” I cross my arms over my bound chest.

His face twitches, and his eyes brighten. “Saxon knows the truth. He knows who you are.” A grin spreads across his face, this time reaching his eyes. “It wasn’t your bum the master drilled in his tent.”

My cheeks light on fire, and so does every part of me. I’m not going to admit to a thing, but the heat radiating from my body may have already done that for me.

Regaining my wits, I remind myself that Tynan desires me. I may not know much about men, but I do know those signs now. Tynan’s rod is stiff. He wants to push it inside me, and I plan to use that to strike a bargain for his silence.

“How long?” I step past him, going farther into the room.

“How long for what?” he asks.

“How long until your rod is ready to—?” I gesture toward the wall, where the evidence of what caused him to shout drips down. I clearly caught him just as his rod shot its seed. I assume a man can somehow make that happen on his own, perhaps using his hand.

Tynan draws in a shuddering breath, his shock blatantly clear on his face, and his rod shifts under his breeches.

“What makes you think I would fuck my grandmother ?” He sneers, feigning indifference, feigning disgust, although he’s already threatened to do that very thing. “No chance would I fuck my grandfather’s intended wife, especially not now she’s been ruined .”

Ruined ? Oh, he means how my maidenhood has been taken. The entire concept makes me angry, but I need to hide my ire.

I slide my hand over the front flap of my breeches, drawing his attention there. “Tynan. You well know I’m not your grandmother. I escaped that horrific fate.”

His eyes brighten for an instant, but then he quickly wipes that expression away.

“It’s obvious you want me.” I glare at his stiffness. “And you already told me your intentions, when I first arrived.” Reaching out, I stroke the carved post at the corner of his bed, running my circled fingers up and down it.

My action has its intended effect, and I watch in awe as his stomach muscles contract and his cock presses out, shifting under his flap as if seeking a way to escape.

Tynan’s belly muscles are even more clearly defined than Saxon’s, and my fingers itch to touch the ridges, to test their texture and feel them react under my fingertips.

Above his breeches, Tynan sports a dark line of hair that seems placed as a signpost to the prize below. I can’t move my gaze.

In two bounding strides, Tynan crosses the space between us. Catching me off guard, he straps one arm around my waist, as the other takes hold of my hair and tugs my head back, exposing my throat, as his pelvis and cock, press firmly against my body.

“Shame you cut off your hair.” He licks the length of my neck, dampening my heating skin and making me shiver. “Less to tug on while I fuck your mouth.” He pulls sharply on my hair again. “I suppose it will have to do.”