29. The Scent of You
~ VOSKI ~
From the moment we’d landed, my body grew tense and shaky.
I thought I was nervous about reaching home.
But the more I explained to her, the more we discussed her Acknowledgement, the harder it became to breathe.
And when she gave that impassioned little speech, her na?ve insistence that she would do anything necessary, my heart swelled because she sounded exactly like me when I’d first been Chosen.
Except, she was beautiful and soft and na?ve.
And about to walk into a Keep that, on its best day, was inhabited by hundreds of strong, competitive men.
And even though I ranked with honor among them, I was still young.
Still early in my career. I held some sway among the Furyknights.
But most of my influence was in the shadows.
Most Furyknights anticipated that I would grow into power, but didn’t know my greatest skills.
Assuming that somehow Donavyn had ended up back home, that he and Bren had somehow raised the banner and Vosgaarde wasn’t buried in a coup, Grace was about to enter the most harrowing, rewarding, and masculine environment she’d ever seen. Without exception.
The thought made me frown. I’d just watched Bren walk through this process, and while she met definite challenges, she’d come through shining.
If anything, to my surprise, Grace seemed even more equipped for this work.
She was beautiful and fearless and Chosen.
So, why did I feel such caution for her?
Then it hit me that, when I walked her into the Keep, she wouldn’t initially be identified as a Flameborne, but as a woman.
When Bren arrived, it had been at the introduction of the dragons.
And though she’d faced a great deal of resistance among the men, their first glimpse of her had been as someone Chosen, and under the protection of our general and battle commander.
Whether they agreed or not, they’d had every reason to listen.
And now, Bren had proved the skeptics wrong. She’d paved the way for the next woman.
I was so glad for my squad-sister, and especially proud of being part of helping her succeed. But she was my sister. She’d been broken and afraid from the moment she arrived—to the point of timidity. A trait that had never appealed to me in a woman. I’d never once looked at Bren and wanted her.
But Grace was an entirely different—very confusing—beast. All the refinement and softness of a noblewoman, yet possessing the adventurous nature and fearlessness of a soldier.
Hell yes, she’d be Acknowledged. I had no doubt.
Until this moment, I had been so focused on whether she could be trusted, and what we might walk into in Vosgaarde, I hadn’t considered what her Choosing meant, how her presence as a Flameborne would play out in our daily lives.
She would be surrounded by men. Very quickly, they’d see her courage. Her squad would sing her praises when she took her first flight, of that, I also had no doubt. And as her skill grew, so would her allure.
Femininity and strength in a woman among men was intoxicating.
In my mind’s eye, I could see her, striding across the courtyard in that cloak, chin high, and brow arched, daring any man to swear in front of her and…
No.
Leathers.
She’d be wearing leathers. Figure hugging, form-fitting dragonhide leather to protect her from flame and cold and…
I was frozen by the image in my mind’s eye—every curve revealed in gleaming leather, her golden hair set ablaze by sunlight and dark clothing. That flashing smile. Those sparkling eyes. Her laughter and—dear God, the clapping and bouncing when she was excited.
My throat went dry.
I blinked and tried to reframe.
She was brave, certainly. But also, innocent. Spoiled, and at times unaware of her impact on others, even if it was through ignorance rather than malice.
I made myself focus. Look at her. Remember why she was here.
Grace was curled, back rounded, wrapped in her cloak, half-sitting, half-reclining in the crook of her dragon’s foreleg. She stared at me, wide-eyed. Waiting for my approval. Waiting for my affirmation.
Waiting for me.
Our eyes locked and she stopped moving, mouth slightly open. Her tongue darted out nervously, but that only sent a pang of need jangling through me.
Suddenly, my mind’s eye wasn’t just full of her in leathers, but of her arched backward over my arm, the buttons on her leather jacket popped and my hand grasping the pliable leather and peeling it away to bare her—breasts full and round because she was goosebumped with arousal, her nipples hard, stimulated from rubbing on the leather—but then I replaced the unforgiving fiber with my hand, groaning when those little rivets played against my palm.
My breath roared as she pressed into the touch and breathed my name—
I shoved up and away, out of Kham’s embrace, tearing my gaze from hers and railing at my body to relax as my heart thundered in my head and I scrambled to get away.
“I need to walk.”
“But, the rain—”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, too sharply, turning away from her so she wouldn’t see the telltale bulge in my leathers, pretending I searched for something in my bag.
“Rest while you can. You’re going to do well.
I’ll tell the captains that you have a warrior’s heart.
The wing leaders will fight to adopt you into their squads.
” And your so-called brothers will fight to make you theirs.
She sat up and for a moment I was terrified she’d follow me into the rain. I set my jaw and she hesitated.
“You really mean that? You really think that?” she murmured, her eyes big and round and pleading with me.
“I do. And yes, you are.”
“Voski… Thank you.”
I froze again, gaping at her over my shoulder.
I should tell her she was welcome. I should compliment her, because I was impressed. But I couldn’t.
‘Truth is truth, even when inconvenient.’
‘Please, Kham. Not now.’
My dragon rumbled, but I forced myself to move, patted his rump, and stepped out from under the shelter of his wing.
“Sleep,” I instructed her sharply. “The dragons will watch over you.”
“What will you do?”
“Sometimes, I just need to move,” I said abruptly, pulling up the collar of my jacket as I stepped into the rain. I thought she’d just take my order and curl up for sleep, so I was half a dozen steps away before she answered.
“I know how that feels. I hope you find what you need,” she said quietly. So quietly, I shouldn’t have heard it.
Yet, it echoed in my head.
I looked over my shoulder, away from her, glaring back at my dragon, because that was his work.
But Kham had his head buried under Koa’s wing. So, I walked on and didn’t look back again.
Much, much later, I finally slept in the curl of my dragon’s foreleg, and dreamed of a whistling, drafty castle that felt familiar, though I couldn’t name it. I was looking for something, but even though I could sense it drawing me forward, always forward, I never found it.
As I moved through those chambers and the tall, dusty corridors, I heard Kham outside the castle, calling. But he couldn’t speak into my mind. I picked up my pace, convinced at every corner, and every door, I would find what I sought just one step further.
But it all turned to nothing. Each room empty. Every doorway leading to another.
Every drawer and shelf dark, dusty, hollow.
After what seemed like hours of searching, I heard Kham’s roar outside and startled—
—and sat bolt upright, sweaty and panting. My lungs inflated, but took nothing from the air. I threw out an arm to find Kham’s shoulder, his long neck curling to bring his eye even with mine.
‘It was the dream. And you shut me out once more. Even in your sleep, you keep me out. Why? What do you believe you must hide, even from me?’
‘Nothing. Nothing, Kham. It’s just a dream.’
The dream wasn’t new. I’d had it for years. And it bothered Kham every time it happened. I was always unsettled by it, but I told myself it was nothing.
Except, one small detail had changed tonight.
As I sat there, my dragon quietly crooning, the rain pattering in the leaves above, my heart pounded in my skull like a drum. I glanced aside, a sudden flare of panic until I made out the curve of her hip, swathed in the cloak, and hugged in the embrace of her dragon’s foreleg.
And then I could breathe.
‘Voski—’
I shook my head. ‘I can’t do it, Kham. Please stop asking. I can’t put her through that.’ Or myself.
Kham growled. ‘There’s nothing noble about resisting a gift from the Creator!’
I huffed and turned over to wedge myself back into the crook of his leg. ‘I am not being noble.’ I almost laughed at the thought. ‘I’m being honest.’
He didn’t accept that answer, but he also knew me enough to know when to push and when not to. I curled into his warmth, but lay there, staring at his wing over me, wide awake.
I couldn’t relax until he’d fallen back to sleep and I could be alone with my thoughts.
And my panic.
Because the dream was the same as it had always been. Every time. Since I was young.
Except that this time, every room I’d stepped into had smelled like vanilla and apples.
And it made my mouth water.