“Now you’re asking the right questions.” She slowly drew herself to a seated position. Her hair was short and as wild as she, spiking in every direction. “Let’s say both.”
“And if I give you a reason?”
“It’s what I’ve been waiting for.” She stood, as tall as him.
Yes, this woman will do nicely.
“I was sold the idea of coming here by one of the flower women. She told me there could be an exciting opportunity for one such as myself, but that I had to wait until the time was right.”
“So you made your own excitement in the meantime.”
“I did, though I’m getting bored.” The Tam woman sauntered over to him. “Tell me, King, is the time right?”
“It is.” He let her put her hands on him. He let her slip her palms under his vest, over his chest, and onto his shoulders. She touched him fearlessly and without reverence. She touched him like an experienced lover who knew exactly what she was looking for. “I want to make you strong.”
“I am strong.” She gave him a coquettish grin.
“I want to make you stronger.”
“Will it feel good?” she breathed into his ear.
“The best you will ever feel.” Yveun smiled into her neck. She had no idea what he had in store for her. He would find Alchemists and bring them to Nova. They would sew and stitch until she was the Perfect Dragon.
“Will there be blood?”
“So much blood.”
She quivered, whimpering softly as if his words had put heat straight to her groin. The woman smelled of fallen Dragons and freshly healed wounds. Coletta had done a good job identifying this one for him. Yveun’s palms fell on her narrow hips.
She straightened away. “Now?”
It took him a moment to realize she was talking about imbibing. But when the woman raised a clawed finger to the top of her breast and carved a golden line down to her nipple, blood dripping off its peak and onto the floor, the point was made well and truly clear. She smelled sweetly of dewy honeysuckle. She looked like some kind of dark goddess, bleeding both life and pleasure from her tit.
“Not now,” he refused, though the thought was certainly appealing. His hand cupped her breast, thumb flicking over the nipple to smear the offered blood across its surface. It hardened at his touch, a rigid point coated in gold. “For now, I wish to take you to the surface, and find you marked as mine.”
“If I must.” She raised a hand to her cheek. “I think I’m far more appealing without any tattoos on my face.”
She had a sharp chin and a crooked nose. He wasn’t inclined to agree that anything could harm the overall aesthetic, or lack thereof, of her face. But Yveun didn’t argue. The appeal of this woman was not feminine curves or pleasant features. She was raw strength. She was wild and carnal, danger personified as flesh, and it was rare for Yveun to find anything that set him to throbbing more.
“Come, my Master Rider.”
She grabbed for her tattered cape, throwing it over her shoulders.
Yveun paused in the door frame. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, “What is your name?”
“Fay.”
Master Rider Fay. It would work.
When they left, neither the flower woman nor owner of the establishment was anywhere to be seen. Yveun and Fay helped themselves out, she no doubt skipping on the bill. They didn’t speak much up the pathways. It wasn’t until they were halfway up that he heard the certainzipa glider made when it took to the skies.
Yveun raced down a narrow walk, heading for the glimmer of sunlight he saw at the end. It was a precarious balcony, but a good enough vantage for him to see the rider shooting by. It was not a Dragon of his, but the Rivet. Yveun growled in rage. She had escaped. And not only had she escaped, but she’d stolen one of his gliders and was riding it better than any of his own Riders.
“Stop!” He shouted, his voice echoing with magic, as Arianna gave a wide turn and spiraled down toward the Gods’ Line.
The Chimera stilled. His influence reached her. Yveun knew it wouldn’t be enough to truly sway her in any way. She was much too strong for that. But all he wanted to do was give the word enough of a jolt to gain her attention.
Once he had it by virtue of her eyes, he wasn’t letting go. Yveun poured every ounce of will and asked for something very, very simple. The more complex a command, the easier it was for the person he was commanding to refute it. This was a simple wish. Two words. Just the mere distraction they would cause could be enough.
