“Can you tell where she is now?”
“Ten miles farther away.”
Rysha snorted. She almost asked Trip to speak telepathically to the dragon, if he had the range, and request a pickup. But if Shulina Arya was pursuing a silver dragon harassing the estate, Rysha didn’t want to get in the way of that. If they had to, they could spend the night at the manor. In separate beds in separate wings of the house if Mother had her way.
Rysha? Trip asked gently, switching to mental communication.
Yes? she responded the same way.
Did something happen on the freighter before I got back? Did Xandyrothol… do something to you?
Oh hells, she hadn’t wanted him to find out. He must have glimpsed her thoughts when the dragon had come to mind. They were standing so close that she supposed he couldn’t have missed it.
Nothing happened. That wasn’t quite true, and she didn’t want to lie to Trip; she doubted she even could lie to him. I mean, I let myself get caught alone below decks, because I wasn’t as aware of my surroundings as I should have been, and he did push me against the wall with his magic. He kissed me and, uh, groped me. She couldn’t say the words—even mentally—without feeling shame and embarrassment. Kaika had warned her the dragon-man had a sexual interest in her, but Rysha had refused to see it and hadn’t been wary when she should have been. That’s as far as it went. I got lucky. Kaika had her sword—mine was at the bottom of the harbor then, remember—and saw what was going on and drove him away.
She was glad it was dark so Trip couldn’t see her face or the shame scorching her cheeks. Not that vision mattered for him. He surely sensed her every emotion, if not her every thought.
I’m sorry that happened.
She shrugged. Like I said, it was my fault for not being aware of the situation. I’m lucky it wasn’t worse than it was.
It was not your fault. You didn’t know he was anything other than human or that he had the power to push you around against your will. Most men don’t.
She shook her head, staring at his shoulder instead of looking into his eyes. She didn’t think he was right, but she didn’t want to argue about it.
Trip lifted his hand to the back of her head and stroked her hair.
Does it bother you? she asked silently. She ought to have dropped it and stopped dwelling on it, but she imagined Trip believing her sullied or indelibly marked by Xandyrothol’s stupid kiss. Even as she had the thought, she knew it was silly. Trip would only care that she’d been hurt.
That someone mauled you? Of course it bothers me. I’d kill him if your attack dragon hadn’t already handled that.
She smiled, having gotten exactly the answer she expected. I understand you did quite a bit of damage before she got to him. She was disappointed you’d already put him through the wringer, and I think even a little impressed by your power. She met his eyes and rubbed his chest through his shirt while deciding not to mention that Shulina Arya would consider him as a mate if Rysha ever gave him up. She had no intention of giving him up.
She would be less impressed if she knew I’d sat there and let your brothers gossip about me loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Well, I would have objected if you’d beaten them up.
I wasn’t thinking of doing that, but Azarwrath… well, maybe he’s right. Maybe I should let a little of my scylori, as you all call it, out when people are being disrespectful. But I don’t want to be an ass or a bully. Maybe it’s good for my humility to be disrespected now and then.
Rysha felt bad that her family had made him feel picked on. Even if he hadn’t said those exact words, it was true. She should have stood up for him more. She was just so used to keeping her mouth shut, to not wanting to create a confrontation and drama within her own household. As a girl, she’d always run and hidden in her room and read a book if things hadn’t gone her way. Maybe she needed to get some scylori too. Or a backbone. Why was it so much easier to deal with mortal enemies than one’s own family?
I don’t know about that, she replied. If you let people walk on you because you’re afraid to use your power on them, then you’ll be frustrated and resentful, and it might build up inside of you until you end up lashing out, and then regretting it.
True. That used to happen a lot in school, me getting frustrated and resentful. I only lashed out a couple of times because I was terrified people would realize I had dragon blood, and my life would be over. Instead, I’d go back into my grandfather’s workshop and cut a bunch of wood and build something until I calmed down.
We’re not dissimilar people, you know, Trip.
I’ve noticed that. But you’re much prettier than I am.
It’s my spectacles. I’ve been told they add to my sex appeal.
Have you?
Actually, no, but I always wished someone would say that.
Hm. He shifted from stroking his hand through her hair to holding the back of her head and massaging his fingers into her scalp.
When she leaned back into his hand, relishing his strong touch, he lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss. She returned it enthusiastically, suddenly not caring if Shulina Arya ever came back.
Much too soon, he broke the kiss and drew back, but only a few inches. He gazed into her eyes.
“What?” she whispered.
“I was considering your spectacles.”
“And agreeing that they do add to my sex appeal?”
“Naturally. Should I get some for myself?”
“Would they still let you fly if you were half-blind?”
“Hm, perhaps not.” He lifted a finger and touched the corner of her frames, seeming thoughtful.
“You’re envying me my sexy accoutrements right now, aren’t you?”
He chuckled, but didn’t answer. She wondered what he was thinking about.
After a quiet moment, she said, “To answer your earlier musings, I think you could let a little of your heritage show without being a bully or seeming arrogant, if that’s what you’re worrying about. Remember when we first walked into Lagresh with the wagon? You were radiating a presence that made people not want to disturb you or get in your way. Maybe it was a little too much for using around friends, but is there a halfway version? You don’t have to ooze magic for my sake, just so you know, but it’s not like it would be disingenuous for you to let your hair down. Or let your scales show.”
Trip snorted. “If I ever get scaly, I’m going to be concerned. I’ll have to see Dr. Targoson. I hear he makes medicinal creams as well as bullets and acids for slaying dragons.”
“He sounds like a handy man.”
“Can I—this will sound silly, but can I practice on you?”
“Your aura?”
“Yeah. A low to medium level of it.”
She patted him on the chest. “You make it sound like a phonograph.”
“You’re welcome to sing along if you want.”
Rysha gazed at him, curious as to if she would notice a change when they were standing here in the dark. It wasn’t as if she had magical senses to detect auras. Before, when she’d noticed him radiating power, it had been something she’d seen with her eyes, or so she’d believed. He’d projected a presence that anyone would have noticed, but it could simply have been a matter of confidence and body language.
Still, as they stood there, looking at each other, little visible in the dark, she started to feel drawn toward him. It seemed silly, since they were already standing chest to chest, his arms around her, but she had the urge to bury her face in his chest and rub her cheek against him, to breathe in his scent and press herself as tightly to him as possible.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, he murmured into her mind.
Even though the words came as a whisper, they seemed to resonate more than usual. They didn’t thunder painfully in her head the way Shulina Arya’s did sometimes when she spoke, but there was a sense of power to them, something appealing.
I can feel you getting, uhm.
&n
bsp; I can feel you too. She smirked.
Some of the draw lessened as he did something to adjust his scylori. Rysha was surprised how noticeable those adjustments were to someone like her.
I don’t know how to do it without making it sexual, he told her.
I think that’s typical. Almost like letting the power out also releases pheromones. I wonder if it’s anything that would be measurable with modern instrumentation. We could do some experiments on it in a laboratory.
You want to experiment on me?
He sounded amused, so she didn’t think she had offended him.
Just on your scylori.
It’s attached to me.
That’s not quite the right word. It’s something you can hide or project to different degrees, isn’t it? Consciously? What’s it like if you don’t try to hide it, but also don’t try to exude it?
Trip hesitated, then she sensed the return of his allure, the increasing of her attraction, but something more as well. She could almost make out his face even though the light level hadn’t increased. She reached up to touch his cheek, feeling something similar to what she felt when Shulina Arya was close, a knowledge that she was in the presence of power, and also that she was safe here in its shadow. In his shadow. She felt a particular pleasure in knowing he had his arms around her, claiming her as his. She wanted to be his.
All the nearby insects and animals fell silent. The mournful howl of a wolf came from the distance. A coincidence, or did the animal sense him even from afar? Maybe that was a protest from the wolf, a complaint that a greater predator was here in the valley.
It seemed strange to think of Trip that way and yet that was what his heritage deemed him to be.
“Are you more comfortable like this?” she asked. “Not hiding anything?”
Another hesitation, and from it, she guessed the answer to be yes.
“I’m not comfortable with the way people react, but yes, it’s a relief to just, as you said, let my hair down. It’s like tearing off soggy clothes and being free to walk around naked.”
She chuckled, but then made the mistake of imagining him naked. She realized she was rubbing his chest again—or maybe she had never stopped.
“Your colleagues in Wolf Squadron may not be ready for this, but if you want to walk around naked with me, you can. I’ll get used to it. I’m getting used to Shulina Arya. Admittedly, her aura doesn’t inspire me to have lurid fantasies, but I’ll still get used to it. Or I’ll constantly drag you to bed.”
“Oh? If I’d known that would happen, I would have been stripping naked for you all the time.” He returned to rubbing the back of her head, and she wondered if he was thinking about nudity and beds right now. Neither the gravel of the road, nor the wet grass alongside it seemed inspiring places for sex, but if he kept massaging her scalp like that, she would drag him off into the brambles if need be.
“I have to go for training with Sardelle tomorrow morning,” he said, “but I’ll help you figure out what’s going on here with Lockvale. If your family is in jeopardy, I’ll make sure they’re protected.”
A little shiver went through her, maybe because she knew he could protect them.
“They were all snotty to you tonight and don’t deserve your help, but I do appreciate the offer.”
“Good. I like it when you’re appreciative.” He brought his lips to hers for another kiss, and she sensed him grinning. He drew back. “Do you think your father would be appreciative if I made him an automated apple picker?”
Remembering their earlier conversation, she said, “You haven’t been thinking about how to make one the whole time we’ve been talking have you?”
“Not the whole time.”
Rysha returned his grin. As sexy as she found his powerful aura, it was the rest of him that she loved. She pushed her hands up under his shirt, letting them roam boldly as she kissed him. His hands also roamed, rubbing her hip and the back of her neck, and warm tendrils of his power embraced her, then seemed to be within her, lighting every nerve. The grass and the gravel started to sound more appealing.
Greetings, Storyteller! an overly perky voice spoke into her mind.
Your dragon is back, Trip informed her, though his lips didn’t leave hers.
He squeezed her butt, pulling her tight against him, and she got the feeling that he didn’t care if Shulina Arya sat on the road and watched. Rysha might not have either if not for the dragon’s comments earlier in the day.
She’ll take us to my room in the barracks, Rysha said. It’ll be better than the gravel.
I was not able to catch the silver, I am ashamed to admit. The flap of wings sounded over the gentle lapping of the lake, and the great gold dragon landed in the gravel with a light crunch. He must have entered races in his hatchling days. I wouldn’t have believed a mere silver could move so quickly. I was unable to interrogate him, alas, so I do not know why he was lurking above your home, Storyteller. Your castle! This place is so much more appealing than your tiny stall at the soldier fort. Why do you not live here all the time?
Rysha didn’t want to stop kissing Trip and might not have, but he drew back—he must have heard all that burble too. It was something of a mood-killer, though if he’d kept kissing her and rubbing her neck, she might have been able to block it out. She took satisfaction in the quickness of Trip’s breaths, of knowing he would have happily rolled around in the wet grass with her if they hadn’t been interrupted. Either that, or he was excited thinking about mechanical apple pickers.
He rubbed his nose against hers. What excites me is that you like it when I fantasize about apple pickers.
She couldn’t truly object. She did like his quirky engineer side.
Storyteller?
Yes, Shulina Arya. Reluctantly, Rysha lowered her arms and stepped away, though he hadn’t dampened down his aura, and she found it difficult to walk away from him instead of toward him. Thank you for trying to catch the silver. Maybe next time, we can set a trap. It’s my understanding that this dragon has been harassing my family.
A trap? Trip mused.
Goodness, did I give you something besides apple pickers to fantasize about?
Maybe.
She patted him on the arm, found his hand, and led him toward the dragon.
Your mate looks much healthier, Storyteller.
Rysha felt a moment of confusion before she realized Shulina Arya must mean Trip’s aura. Of course, she would have the ability to sense it too.
You think he should let his scylori out all the time?
Of course. This is natural.
Rysha looked at Trip, suspecting he’d heard that. Would he change? She didn’t know.
10
Trip walked into General Zirkander’s office, his guts twisting with the usual nerves. He’d been called up here numerous times now, but he still didn’t find anything ordinary or blasé about it. So far, Zirkander had always had a mission for him. Would he this time too? Trip would happily go on a mission, but for once, he wouldn’t have minded staying home. He was worried that Rysha’s family was in trouble, and he wanted time to find out what was going on. And maybe build a dragon trap.
“Morning, Trip.” Zirkander stood behind his desk with a mug of coffee in hand and a folder open. “We’re waiting for a couple more, and then we’ll start.”
Trip looked toward the other person—being—in the office, having sensed his presence long before he entered the citadel. Bhrava Saruth was in his golden ferret form, lying in an early morning sunbeam slashing through the window and onto the sofa. All four of his legs were in the air.
“Bhrava Saruth is not a morning dragon,” Zirkander said.
“I’m surprised he doesn’t have you rubbing his belly, sir.”
“Generals have lieutenants around to pet the dragons if needed.”
He was rubbing it earlier, Bhrava Saruth said sleepily into Trip’s mind. My high priestess’s mate is a most agreeable worshipper. He helped with the construction of my tem
ple, you know.
I hear generals have to be versatile and have many skills. Maybe one day, Trip would find the courage to ask Zirkander if he truly considered himself one of Bhrava Saruth’s worshippers, but not today.
Indeed. And amenable hands.
Zirkander tilted his head. “Did you get your hair cut, Trip? You look different.”
“No, sir.” After his talk the night before with Rysha, Trip had decided to very subtly let some of his aura show to see if it changed anything. Maybe people like Colonel Therrik would treat him slightly better if they sensed he had some magical competency. But Zirkander hadn’t ever treated him disrespectfully so Trip didn’t know if anything would change with him. “I did comb it.”
“That must be it. Regulations do encourage that.”
Bhrava Saruth opened a green eye and looked over at Trip, but didn’t make further comments.
Trip sensed more people walking down the hallway to the office and stepped aside, happy to ride in the back seat for whatever mission assignment was coming.
Captain Ahn strode in, her sniper rifle strapped on her back, and she was followed by Dr. Targoson, who carried a satchel. Trip hadn’t spoken much to the man outside of their meeting at Sardelle’s house the night of the uncorking, as it were.
“Morning, Ahn,” Zirkander said. “Tee, you have my acid for me?”
“I’m still not a pharmacy, Zirkander,” Targoson growled.
“Are you sure? I have a memo here that says to keep copies of purchase orders sent to Deathmaker Pharmaceutical.” Zirkander held up a paper.
Frowning, Targoson walked to the desk to look at it. “This says Daybreak Medicinal. That’s the name of the business I formed to facilitate deliveries of my healing formulas to parties willing to pay.”
“Unfortunate initials, don’t you think?”
“Not to those who can read. Perhaps you need a vision correction.”
“Oh? Do you have a cream for that?”
Trip stirred, remembering his thoughts the night before when he’d been with Rysha. Mostly, he’d been contemplating how to get more information from Lord Lockvale, but he’d also been wondering, not for the first time, if he could learn to heal her vision so she wouldn’t need spectacles.
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