Chapter 5
Drake
I look down at the stack of Tribute files scattered across my desk, each one representing a life hanging in the balance. I still can’t believe that the Mainland has been lying to us all these years. And yet, it makes a strange kind of sense, if you think about it.
I was tasked with getting these Tributes to the next level as quickly as possible. The sooner we can cut a significant number during the dragon bonding stage, the easier it will be for me to find the potential spies.
I sigh. I hate knowing there will likely be unnecessary casualties during the next stage of their training.
I push the files aside and lean back in my chair. The leather of my tank top sticks to my skin in the humid air, even with the air conditioning running at full blast.
I stand and walk over to the door to my office, opening it.
Amelia looks up from her laptop, turning to me.
“All good?” she asks, sensing my agitation.
“Yep.” I clear my throat. “I’m expecting a Tribute to stop by. She should be here any minute. You can wave her through when she gets here.”
“No problem.” Amelia smiles at me. “Maybe we can head out later and go for a spin?” Her eyes glint.
“Yeah…maybe. I have a ton of work on my desk. It might need to wait until tomorrow.”
“That’s what you said yesterday, Drake,” she tells me, lifting her brows. “You haven’t shifted in over a week.”
“You’re right.” I nod a few times. “We should go later.”
“I’m holding you to it.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little…stressed.”
“More than normal?” I smile.
“Yes, and that’s saying something.” She shrugs. “Then again, I suppose you didn’t expect any of this.”
“Not in the least.” I widen my eyes. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Get it done because we’re going later,” Amelia shouts after me.
“Yeah…yeah,” I say over my shoulder, smiling.
Amelia bonded with me as my dragon rider a couple of years back. It’s handy that she works as my PA when I’m not in my dragon form. After a shaky start, we’re now close friends.
I walk back to my desk and sit. I’m about to open one of the files when a sharp knock pulls my attention to the door.
“Enter,” I call out.
Harlow Santos walks through the door, and I almost swallow my damned tongue.
She’s clearly just come from the outdoor showers, her attempt to wash off the mud from her failed Sky’s Edge run.
Streaks of it still cling to her arms and legs, and there’s a smudge on her left cheek that she missed.
Her dark hair is soaking wet, hanging in thick waves past her shoulders, water droplets trailing down her neck.
But it’s her clothes that make my mouth go dry.
Her white T-shirt is completely soaked, the thin cotton fabric plastered to her body like a second skin.
I can see everything – the outline of her bra, the full curves of her breasts, the way the material clings to her stomach.
The shirt may as well be transparent. Her dark nipples tighten in the air-conditioned environment.
They’re so fucking plump and… I force myself to look away and to move down instead of up, which is a mistake. Big time!
Her long legs are bare beneath shorts, and I notice more mud streaked along her calves. She’s tall for a human, but there’s nothing masculine about her. Every inch screams feminine curves and soft skin.
Heat floods my veins, and I feel my cock start to harden. I hate my reaction to this human. She could be a spy, for fuck’s sake. The last thing I should be doing is lusting after her.
I force my eyes to meet hers.
She takes a step toward my desk, and her foot catches on absolutely nothing.
I watch in what feels like slow motion as she stumbles forward, her hands flying out to catch herself.
She lands with her palms flat on my desk, her body bent forward at the waist, putting her breasts practically in my face.
This close, I can smell her – something clean and floral mixed with mud and rainwater. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and she makes this little breathy sound of surprise that has my dick taking immediate, painful notice.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she gasps, jumping back to her feet so quickly she nearly overbalances again.
I’m so angry with myself – at my physical response to her – that I snap before I can stop myself.
“You’re getting water all over my floor,” I growl, gesturing at the puddle forming around her feet. “And you’ve ruined my paperwork.” I look down at the files on my desk, several of which now have muddy handprints and water stains on them.
Her chin lifts, and I see a flash of fire in her chestnut eyes.
“I apologize,” she says, her voice carefully controlled but with an edge to it. “I was told to come straight to your office after my attempt, hence my current state. I’m sorry I tripped – these things happen. What is it that you need?”
I need to fuck her. Right here and right now…on my desk. I want to fuck her hard and fast until she comes apart on the end of my dick.
I bite the inside of my cheek for a few long seconds because I’m so tempted to say it.
She stands straighter, water still dripping from her hair, and meets my gaze directly.
“I wanted to have a quick talk with you.” I clear my throat because my voice is far too deep, my dragon just below the surface.
Despite being soaked and covered in mud, there’s nothing submissive about her posture.
“Okay, well, I’m here as requested. I will remain standing so I don’t ruin your chairs as well. Unless you want me to sit.” She shrugs.
“You can stay right there. Probably safer if you do.” My mouth twitches as I hold back a smile.
She nods once. The way she looks at me – not backing down, not cowering like most people do when I’m in a mood – makes my balls pull tight.
I force myself to lean back in my chair, putting some distance between us.
“It was bad luck today with the rain,” I say, my tone more professional. “According to your records, you were one of the first Tributes to make it through Sky’s Edge during training. If that is the case, why haven’t you qualified yet?”
Her jaw tightens. “It’s the time limit. It trips me up every attempt.”
“All you need to do is shave off a second or two from each obstacle and you’ll be there,” I continue.
She rolls her eyes, her face an open book. Right now, I see frustration and irritation.
“If it’s so easy, why don’t you do the course?”
The words hang in the air between us, and I see the exact moment she realizes what she just said. Her eyes widen slightly, and she swallows hard, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. The sight of that pink tongue sends another jolt of heat straight to my cock.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… It…” She takes a breath, visibly composing herself.
“I’ll practice more, and I’ll make it next time.
I just…I tend to be cautious because I’m naturally clumsy.
Always have been.” She gets a look of fear, her eyes darkening.
She bites down on her lip for a moment. “I’d hate to have a clumsy moment at the top of that net and fall to my death. ”
I catch the slight tremor in her voice.
The image of her falling, of her body hitting the ground like Vanessa’s did, sends an unexpected surge of protectiveness through me. I push it down, reminding myself that she’s just another Tribute. Then again, I don’t want any more of them to die. This isn’t personal at all.
“I’ve decided you’ll make an attempt every day going forward,” I tell her, “until you make it or—”
“Or I die trying,” she finishes for me, her voice flat.
I hate the sound of that. The finality of it. If I can help it, no more Tributes will die on my watch. Not when their deaths would be for a lie.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” I ask. “Anything that would help you get through safely?”
She laughs, and it’s a rich, husky sound that does things to me I don’t want to acknowledge. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Can you add half a minute to the time allowed?” she asks, arching one eyebrow.
“I can’t.”
“Can you put safety nets below the climbing obstacle?”
“You know I can’t.”
She folds her arms across her chest, and the movement pushes her breasts up, making them even more prominent against the wet fabric of her shirt. It’s killing me. I keep my eyes on hers.
“Then you can’t help me,” she says, looking down at me with clear irritation. There’s something about her defiance that I find myself admiring, even as it frustrates me. “Is there anything else?” She lifts her brows.
I have to bite back a smile at her boldness. No one talks to me like this. No one challenges me so directly. It’s refreshing and infuriating in equal measure.
“That’s all,” I manage to say, my voice rougher than I’d like. “Good luck with your attempt tomorrow.”
She turns and walks toward the door without another word, and I can see the tension in her shoulders, the anger in every line of her body. She’s pissed, and I get it.
I look down. I’m hard. My balls are aching.
Dammit all to hell.
I never thought I’d be attracted to a human. But there’s something about Harlow that gets under my skin.
Hopefully, she gets through Sky’s Edge sooner rather than later. Hopefully, she doesn’t bond with a dragon at the next stage, so she can be out of my hair.
Then again, even if she does bond with a dragon, she’ll be their responsibility, not mine.
I just need her to get through, so that I can move forward with my objective.