Chapter 6
Syla woke up hungry but not wanting to leave Vorik’s arms, especially not when the memory of the conversation he’d had with Wise came to mind.
She wondered if he’d felt the hint of distress in her lovemaking the night before, first in the alley and again when they’d snuggled into the bed in a spare room behind the studio.
Even as Syla had acknowledged Vorik would likely leave—and rationally, she believed he should leave—her body hadn’t wanted to accept that, and she’d been almost frenzied at the thought of losing him.
It had probably come across as heated lust and intense frenetic need—something that might have flattered him more than alarmed him—but she’d been keenly aware of her feelings, her desire to be sated but also to sate him.
Gloriously. In the back of her mind, she may have believed that if she was good enough, that if she gave him enough wondrous pleasure, he wouldn’t leave.
With his arm snaked around her waist, her back against his chest, and his chin resting on her shoulder, Vorik looked quite content.
Syla could almost believe that he would choose to stay.
But she knew he felt as loyal to his tribe as she did to her kingdom, and he’d also been raised and trained to do his duty, to help his people.
But, as she gazed at his profile in the light coming in the window—light partially blocked by a red tail dangling from the rooftop—Syla couldn’t help but wish they could be together forever.
But Wise had told Vorik he had only three days before that tribe meeting.
That wasn’t even enough time for her to get her throne back, was it?
As if aware of her studying him, Vorik opened his eyes.
“I do enjoy waking up to find a beautiful woman gazing at me,” he murmured.
“A beautiful woman? Any one will do?”
“I am partial to this one.” He brushed her shoulder, sending a tingle of warmth through her, then shifted the blanket to reveal her bare breast and smiled as he cupped it. That sent more than a tingle through her, heat zinging to her core, anticipation awakening again.
“Those are your favorite body parts, aren’t they?”
“Two of them, per our previous discussion.” Vorik kissed her while fondling her, his thumb deft as it stroked her.
“What are the others?” she asked against his lips.
She could hear voices and thumps elsewhere in the building and figured they should get up, but she caught herself shifting onto her back, giving him more access to her body.
“Hm,” he said as if contemplating it, then trailed his fingers from her breast, down her abdomen, to rest on her thigh.
She parted her legs in case he wanted to explore further, her anticipation already building.
“I love how eager and ready you always are for me,” he breathed.
“Your touch makes me so,” she whispered. “I—”
A thunk against the window startled them, and they both lurched up to look. The dragon tail was twitching. In irritation? Or was that an absent tic?
Daylight has come, the rain has stopped, and I grow hungry again, and this perch is not comfortable, Wreylith spoke into Syla’s mind. Should you wish me to take you to rescue your relative, we should leave soon.
“—may have a dragon problem,” Syla said, aware of Vorik’s eyebrows rising as he doubtless waited for her to finish the sentence.
The thunk sounded again. Fortunately, the glass had some magic in it—probably everything that Tabuvar crafted did—and withstood the muscular twitches.
“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Vorik said mildly.
“I suppose yours, being out beyond the barrier, isn’t a problem,” Syla said aloud, then silently added to Wreylith, I’ll be ready to leave soon, but I need to check on Aunt Tibby’s progress first. Why don’t you go for a hunt and return when you’ve sated your hunger?
She is asleep near the kiln. Monitoring her progress is not what you’re engaged in.
Syla’s cheeks warmed. I might not have that much time with Vorik before he has to leave. I’m… enjoying his company.
You enjoyed it last night. Twice. It is surprising that the vocalizations didn’t lead more enemies to the door to attack you. Or to the alley during your first set of noisy, thrashing gyrations. Humans are strangely loud when they mate.
“Oh, he speaks to me regularly.” Vorik shifted his hand from her thigh to her waist.
That was disappointing, but with Wreylith’s attention toward them, Syla felt inhibited and supposed she shouldn’t want him to prompt her to thrash, gyrate, or vocalize. Those terms couldn’t possibly be accurate, could they?
I know for a fact that dragons get vigorous too, Syla replied to Wreylith. That rock formation over our heads almost fell off when you and Agrevlari were joining in the desert.
Of course dragons are vigorous when mating. We are strong and supreme predators with great stamina combined with explosive power. You are fortunate the rock formation did not snap and fall upon your frail body. As I recall, some lingering power of the gods made it sturdy.
“Does he speak to you about sex?” Syla made a face.
“I don’t encourage that, but it comes up more than I’d like. This morning, when I woke at dawn and was admiring your form, Agrevlari smugly informed me that, if our hypothesis is correct, it only took him one mating with Wreylith to get her with eggs.”
Syla made another face—was that really the expression? “Is he sure he’s the only one she’s mated with? As to the rest, Wreylith hasn’t mentioned to me that she’s pregnant, so we’re only guessing at this point, right?”
I crave ostrich eggs wrapped in eel skins, Wreylith announced.
Vorik blinked—had Wreylith shared the words with both of them? Or possibly everyone within range who might satisfy her craving?
“It’s more than a guess,” Vorik said.
“Well, I won’t make assumptions until she tells me. As to the other thing, I’ve been taking vynglar tea and yerathma root since I met you and we started… randiness.”
“Those are contraceptives, I assume.”
“Yes.”
“You need two?”
“One is an ongoing medicine to make the womb inhospitable for sperm, and the other is for afterward as extra protection. Maybe I should add a third contraceptive. You seem virile.”
“Tell that to Agrevlari, will you? That if not for your healer’s knowledge of herbs, my great virility would have doubtless caused you to become with eggs—with child—many times by now.”
“I don’t want to discuss pregnancy with your dragon.”
“I suppose that’s understandable. He would probably bring up your sex orifices.”
“Wreylith has kindly not discussed those with me recently.”
“As males, we’re possibly more enthralled with them than females.”
“I suspect that’s true.” Syla thought about suggesting that he lower his hand again and that they resume kissing, but the tail thunked against the window once more. It seemed Wreylith didn’t care that Syla might have only limited time with Vorik. “I’ll see if I can find us some breakfast.”
There aren’t any ostriches in this part of the Kingdom, Syla told Wreylith.
But elsewhere on your islands there are?
Yes, there are some on Kola Nut Island at the southern end of the chain. Ostriches like dry climates. I’ve read that they used to be all over the plains of southern Droha, but dragons, wyverns, and other predators hunted them to extinction there.
That is correct. Once you’ve reestablished your rule, you will take me to visit all the islands in your kingdom. By learning more about them, I can better help you protect them.
You just want to hunt on them all.
Ostrich eggs are delicious.
Oh, I’m sure.
“Do you ever feel like your dragon is using you for access to food he can’t get on his own?
” Syla put on her spectacles and climbed out of bed.
When she caught Vorik admiring her butt as she bent over to grab her clothes, she decided she might ask him later for a list of the rest of her body parts that he liked.
It always made her feel sexy to see evidence that he found her appealing.
“Agrevlari loves smoked salmon,” Vorik said. “He also enjoys when I sing ballads about the magnificence of dragons to him while he eats that salmon.”
“So… yes?”
“Never believe dragons ally themselves with humans because they adore us. They’re not hounds. They all want something.” He winked at her.
Syla finished dressing, used the lavatory in the back of the glassworks, then went to the main room up front.
She found Fel standing in the hallway where he could see the work area as well as the hallway leading to the bedroom.
Syla’s cheeks warmed as Wreylith’s comment about vocalizations came to mind.
At least Fel hadn’t followed her outside the night before when she’d gone to check on Vorik.
He’d tried to, but she’d pointed out that, with people hunting moon-marked individuals, Tibby was in as much danger as she, and Wreylith would keep an eye out for her.
That almost hadn’t convinced Fel, but when she’d mentioned she hoped to have a private conversation with Vorik, he’d agreed to stay behind.
Maybe he’d guessed where that conversation would end up going and hadn’t wanted to be a witness to it.
She hadn’t intended to have sex in an alley with Vorik, but Fel’s guess hadn’t been without precedent.
He lifted a hand as she bade him good morning and started to pass him.
“Your Majesty?” Fel asked.
She stopped. “Yes?”
He glanced toward the front room. As Wreylith had suggested, Tibby had fallen asleep at some point during the night.
She lay on the floor next to a workbench amid glowing tools and her components with several books open around her.
Someone had tucked a pillow under her head and draped a blanket over her.
“I must apologize for my inattentiveness last night,” Fel said.
“Uhm?”
If he’d missed noticing that she and Vorik were enjoying themselves, Syla was glad, not upset.