Chapter 15
Rylana woke up after dawn with a headache that made her groan, grab her temples, and wish she hadn’t woken up. She looked balefully at the horn dangling over the end post of her bed.
Scents of frying sausage and eggs, as well as black-currant-preserve oatmeal, wafted into the storeroom.
Usually, Rylana loved that sweetened dish, but her stomach had no interest in food this morning, and she grimaced, hoping she wouldn’t need to rush to use the lavatory.
Embarrassment reddened her cheeks as she remembered throwing up in the alley.
The gnomish street-cleaning contraptions would whisk through and incinerate that eventually, but how mortifying.
At least the peacekeepers had departed beforehand. Only Mya had witnessed the mishap.
Clanks and clinks came from the front of the diner, and voices wafted back.
Not only had Rylana slept through Jildarin’s breakfast preparations, but patrons had already arrived to eat.
She wanted to drag a pillow back over her head, but, as if he’d sensed her wake up, Jildarin walked into her corner of the storeroom.
Clad in dark trousers and his crisp white chef’s coat, the sleeves rolled precisely up to reveal his bare forearms, he gazed at her.
Jaw shaven, hair combed, and clothes ironed, he looked especially neat and tidy.
And she… she felt disheveled. She was disheveled.
Before going to bed, she’d managed the wherewithal to scour her mouth out with tooth-scrub powder, but she needed another round. Or ten.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t usually sleep in, or, uhm, drink unwise amounts, but I was trying to research that horn, and it led to… poor decisions.”
“Hm,” Jildarin said, then clasped his hands behind his back and left.
Rylana groaned and pulled a pillow over her face, sad that she’d probably disappointed him.
Surely, dragons never did something as foolish as getting drunk.
Would he judge her for it? Maybe he would chalk it up to the strangeness of humans, but she much preferred it when she exceeded his expectations instead of the other way around.
She swigged water from the canteen that dangled from another post of her bed, then sat upright, intending to rise. Her pounding headache thwarted her immediately, and she flopped back onto the bed.
“I’m not going out with Mya again,” she muttered, not that she’d been the one making Rylana drink.
Jildarin returned with a tray. He walked past her to set it on the side table.
A bowl of the black-currant-preserve oatmeal steamed in the center, with extra preserves in a little ramekin, and were those slices of her favorite coffee-rubbed bacon?
She hadn’t thought she could eat yet, but her taste buds perked at the delicious scents.
And he’d gotten a to-go cup of coffee from the shop across the street too.
She reached for that with gratitude, wrapping both hands around it. She’d thought he was judging her, and he hadn’t been. He’d seen how wrecked she was and brought her these wonderful offerings.
“Thank you, Jildarin.” Rylana swallowed deeply, the coffee wonderfully hot and bracing in her mouth, then reached for a piece of bacon. “I’m falling in love with you.”
“I also have affection for you.”
“You must since you’ve been doing all those errands for my father. No, those have been far more than errands.” Rylana thought of the barnacle-covered chest that he’d somehow dredged from the bottom of the ocean. “You’ve been going on quests.”
“They’ve not been simple tasks, even for a dragon.”
“I sure hope he appreciates you.”
“It is enough that you appreciate me.” His eyelids lowered, and he gazed at her through his lashes.
“Oh, I do.” Rylana was tempted to put aside the coffee and kiss him, but she needed to scour her mouth again before it would be acceptable for such activities.
Instead, she gripped his hand and guided him to sit beside her on the bed.
“I’d like to go on a date with you and find someplace private and wonderful where we can… express our affection for each other.”
“Do you refer to coitus?”
“Well, yes. That’s something I’m interested in. Or I will be when I’m not hungover and nursing a headache. You’re interested too, right?” She thought of the discussion they’d had in the park about dawn trees.
He gazed at her, watching her nibble on bacon and sip coffee.
“I am interested in engaging in physical intimacy with you. As I’ve informed you previously, my quirky human body informs me often that it desires such activities.
Even now, as I watch your lips touch that cup and think about stroking your hair, my male copulatory organ grows engorged. ”
“You say the most romantic things to me.”
Jildarin cocked his head, and she waved away her comment.
“It’s a little different for women, but I also get aroused when I’m near you and thinking of sex. And when you touch me, I especially do.”
Jildarin considered that for a moment. “You experience vaginal lubrication and swelling of the clitoris and vulva?”
“Did you read about that in one of your books on biology?” She couldn’t imagine Zilek using such terminology.
“I did. You may also experience pupil dilation, skin flushing, and erect nipples.” He looked toward her chest.
His gaze was more curious than libidinous, but damn if her skin didn’t flush and her nipples tighten. He lifted a hand, as if he might reach out to touch her breast—to check the status of her nipples. Heat swept through her. Flushing, indeed.
She still had her headache and needed to use the lavatory, so this was hardly the time for her to encourage him to make a move, but she couldn’t resist the impulse to grasp his hand and pull it to her chest. At first, he hesitated, but his curiosity prompted him to explore her curves.
Another flush of desire swept through her, not as diminished as one would expect, given her hungover state.
She thought about pulling her nightshirt over her head and letting him touch her bare skin.
His hand shifted to her other breast, his lips parting as he stroked it. By the gods, that felt good.
“It is fascinating,” Jildarin murmured, watching her chest intently, “that body parts existing to facilitate the nursing of young can be arousing to a grown male of the species, but your breasts have an appealing shape and heft.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
Maybe it was strange that his curious ministrations would make her hot, but they did. Even though he didn’t have the expertise of an experienced lover, his light touches sent zings of steamy pleasure to her core.
“I am growing… more aroused.” His voice had turned husky, and he shifted his gaze from her chest to her eyes. “I must stop this behavior until… I have not earned your father’s blessing.”
“A need for that is making things difficult.” She kept herself from saying unnecessarily difficult. Barely.
“Yes.”
He hadn’t released her. He didn’t want to. She could see the longing in his eyes as well as feel it in his touch. And she didn’t want him to release her. She shifted closer on the bed and—
A knock at the carriage doors startled them both.
They lowered their hands and scooted away from each other on the bed.
Jildarin hopped off the bed, as if they’d been caught engaging in inappropriate behavior.
Since they were grown adults, Rylana didn’t think so, but maybe he believed the gods would strike them down if they had sex before he had her father’s blessing.
She sighed. Even though she understood his desire to follow a recipe, she wished Jildarin had never met her father and it hadn’t occurred to him to want his approval.
He looked toward the doors. “I sense dwarves outside the storeroom.”
Rylana groaned. “Not them again.”
She’d hoped the peacekeepers would detain those two for days—if not months. She started to say Jildarin shouldn’t open the door for them, but he frowned and walked toward it. There was a stiffness to his step, and he adjusted himself on the way.
Rylana snorted softly, pleased she aroused him but regretting that they’d been interrupted.
She slid off the bed and grabbed her clothes, intending to dress for the day, but when Jildarin opened the door and a deep but feminine voice spoke, curiosity sent Rylana out in her nightshirt.
She paused to grab the horn, not trusting that a thief wouldn’t sneak in via the hallway and snatch it while she was distracted.
“I am Diplomat Shebly,” the female speaker said. “I am honored to meet you, Lord Jildarin-grozanarav.”
“Yes,” Jildarin stated and looked toward Rylana. He glanced at the horn, then held her gaze for a moment, before considering the visitors.
Rylana joined him in facing a gray-haired, barrel-chested female dwarf wearing an ornamental gray and gold-trimmed sash with a king’s crown emblem.
Two bare-armed male dwarves with impressive musculature stood to either side of her, an axe and a mace hanging off their broad belts, tranquility knots tying them in place.
With expressionless faces, they looked distinctly like bodyguards.
“We are seeking your business partner, Rylana Avandar,” the female said, still addressing him, though Rylana now stood beside Jildarin.
The males eyed her and the horn.
“She is present.” Jildarin’s eyes slitted.
“You will neither harm her nor attempt to take her from the lair of a dragon.” Power and magic—or maybe that was menace—emanated from him.
Was it possible he’d spoken to Mya that morning and learned of the attack in the alley?
“I require her to perform my calculations for me.” The look he gave Rylana was still heated, and she doubted calculations were what he had in mind.
“It is not our intent to do either of those things,” Shebly said. “I’ve come because she wrote a letter to King Ekton.”