Chapter 18 #2
She arched her breast more fully into his hand and watched him over her shoulder, her magnificent stormy eyes finding him through her spectacles.
The wind tugged at the hem of her dress, and he lowered his hand to the bare thigh it revealed, sliding the fabric upward.
He trailed his fingers along her exquisite flesh, her softness a contrast to his rough callouses.
She moved her medical kit aside and shifted her legs apart in invitation. He slid them along her inner thigh, finding the heat of her core, stroking her through her underwear.
She gasped and pushed into his hand. Her naked desire for him excited him, as it always did.
As she always did, and he rubbed her even as he debated where he could take her so that they could join.
Where they could enjoy each other’s company in private and then…
afterward, maybe he would allow her to escape.
That was what she wanted, and he knew she was using her body to try to get exactly that, but he didn’t blame her, not for a second.
He had only kidnapped her to save her life.
He’d never wanted to deliver her to an interrogation session.
Let his brother find the shielder chamber on his own.
But they were flying over the ocean toward the coast of Froha, toward a stormer camp where the Sixteen Talons and all of his tribe waited. Unless he redirected Agrevlari to the north or south, to land elsewhere on the coast, there was no place where they could join.
“Vorik,” Syla moaned with longing, moving against his hand, damp through her underwear.
Her breasts shifted as she writhed, and he had to close his eyes to keep a modicum of control, to keep from tearing off her dress so he could have full access to her.
With each passing second, he longed more and more to pull her into his lap and take her right there, while they flew a thousand feet above the sea.
With his lust flaring, he growled, the notion filling his mind. He rocked into her, his cock so eager that it might tear through his trousers.
She turned her head to meet his heated gaze. “Take me back to Bogberry Island, Vorik.”
There was power in her voice, a command. A mortal man without magic of his own might have jumped to obey, but he had his own power and the ability to resist. But did he truly want to? He wanted… her.
“I will,” he caught himself saying, “but I need you now.”
He expected her to object, to try again to command him, but he slipped his fingers into her depths, and she nodded eagerly and kissed him again. She shifted her ass against his cock, and he couldn’t restrain his desire any longer. He had to—
Three dragons approach from behind, Agrevlari stated without commenting on anything else.
Irritation flashed in Vorik, and he guessed who they were even before Agrevlari expounded.
Ozlemar is in the lead with Jhiton.
Vorik groaned, realizing he couldn’t do anything now but continue on to the camp and hand Syla over to be a prisoner. To be interrogated.
How far back are they? Vorik asked, wondering if he at least had time to bring Syla to a climax, even if he couldn’t sate himself. Maybe if he left her trembling with pleasure, she would be less likely to hate him over whatever happened in the camp.
Not far. The other dragons carry only one rider each, so they are catching up.
Damn it, Agrevlari. I’m trying to—
Effect a mating session on my back, which, as I’ve informed you before, is not permitted.
We weren’t going to mate. Only—
You are stimulating her sex orifice, and you are intensely aroused. That leads to mating.
Oh, how Vorik wished it would. That it could.
But when he looked back, he saw Ozlemar and two blue dragons with riders flying after them.
With Syla breathing heavily in his arms, pushing into his hand and rocking back against him, Vorik was tempted to satisfy her before the others caught up, but she wouldn’t appreciate it if Jhiton flew up beside them and looked over while her dress was hiked up, her cheeks were flushed, and she was groaning with desire as she writhed in Vorik’s grip.
She may have sensed their approach, regardless, because she lifted her head from Vorik’s shoulder and looked behind them.
“We’re about to have company.” Struggling to cool his desire, Vorik made himself push her dress down.
Syla groaned when she spotted the dragons. This time, it had nothing to do with desire.
“Is that your general?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She bared her teeth.
“I’m sure he’s delighted to see you too.
” Vorik lifted a hand toward Jhiton, who nodded back at him.
They were far enough apart that Jhiton’s face was hard to read—though that was often the case when they were three feet apart too.
Vorik hoped his brother hadn’t gotten the gist of what was going on but worried his lack of a telepathic greeting before arriving meant he had.
“I suppose it’s not regal to hiss at one’s foe.
” Syla glanced down and must have noticed the laces on her dress were loosened for she cursed and shrank back into Vorik to use him to block Jhiton’s view as she tied them more tightly.
“Or to writhe in the hands of one’s enemies,” she added in a mutter, her cheeks flushed.
“You’re newly coronated,” Vorik said gently, wishing he could set her at ease but mostly regretting his choice to bring her.
At the least, maybe he could use a touch of humor to distract her from her discomfort.
“You can’t be expected to know all the rules, traditions, and customs right away.
I bet your elders haven’t had time to instruct you on everything. ”
“I was born into the monarchy. I know all the bylaws, and we have a constitution. I’ve read it before.”
“And it covers hissing and writhing?”
“It does not.”
“Then I think you get to decide which actions are regal or not. Set the standard, if you will.”
The sour look she slanted him didn’t suggest she appreciated his humor.
“You can hiss at Jhiton if you like,” Vorik offered, “and know it won’t affect your regalness. You’re a wonderful queen. Your people are lucky to have you.”
She scowled over at Jhiton as Ozlemar drew even with them and slowed down to match Agrevlari’s pace.
It was a languid pace, and Vorik suspected his dragon had deliberately flown slowly so that the others would catch up, thus to ensure mating didn’t occur on his back.
Vorik couldn’t blame Agrevlari for that.
“Have you learned the location of the shielder yet?” Jhiton asked, speaking aloud instead of telepathically. That meant he wanted Syla to hear for some reason.
“We haven’t discussed it,” Vorik said.
“What did you discuss?” Jhiton’s flat tone suggested he had gotten the gist of what had been going on—and didn’t approve.
“That Syla is a magnificent and fearless queen who’s faced down more enemies than any one person should have to deal with in a lifetime.” Vorik refused to look away from Jhiton or feel chagrined about his feelings for Syla. “She deserves our respect.”
“Is that what you were doing on your flight? Respecting her?”
“Yes.”
“She killed Lesva’s dragon.” Jhiton sounded exasperated. “Many people’s dragons. I don’t know how you can—” He flung a hand toward them, as if Vorik had been doing something reprehensible by kissing her and giving her pleasure.
“You and your dragons invaded my Kingdom, you bastard.” Syla’s fingers curled into a fist. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Jhiton gazed at her with little expression before saying, “Bring her to camp, Vorik. I will handle the questioning.” He waved toward Ozlemar’s horns, and the black dragon surged ahead.
Syla slumped back against Vorik’s chest. “It’s not too late to turn around and take me back to the islands.”
Vorik wished that were true, but the two other dragons flew behind Agrevlari, effectively hemming him in between them and Ozlemar.
“Yes, it is,” he said sadly.