He turns his head, looking at her for a while before staring out into the bright day as moans drift into the cave’s opening.
“They’re pretty, right?” Beth tries to peer over the cavern edge and watch.
I pull her to me and back farther into the cavern. “Just because their scales are shiny doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous.”
“Beautiful things are usually dangerous, I find.” She turns and gets on her tiptoes to nip at my chin. “Just look at you when you’re in your feral form. So fluffy. So deadly.”
I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. “If anyone else calls me fluffy, I’ll gut them.”
“But I’m special?” She kisses my mouth lightly, then again.
“Very special.” I return her affection. Perhaps the mating scent is affecting us, too.
“How long will all this take?” Chastain stalks past and begins his usual pacing. “We need to fly.”
“You can’t rush love.” Beth presses her hand to my chest over my heart. “By the way, do you love me?”
Our agreement snaps tight, the magic compelling me to answer. But it’s easy. “You know I love you more than anything in Arin.”
“And I love you.” She kisses me again, her tongue sweeping against mine.
“You two are a wanton lot, eh?” Clotty raises a brow.
“Jealous?” Beth laughs.
“Very.” She lies back and tucks her hands behind her head. “Time for a nap. Wake me when a univern, or maybe a wynicorn, is born.”
Parnon grunts a laugh and lies next to her, his big hands clasped over his waist.
Clotty made Parnon laugh. By the Ancestors. He never laughs.
Beth gives me a look. I return it. Maybe there’s love to be had by more than just us, the unicorns, and the wyverns.
16
Beth
“Are you certain the wyverns will fly us safely?” Gareth glowers for the hundredth time since Iridiel sauntered into the cavern, his horn aglow.
“Yes.” He tosses his head. “The ladies will fly you all on their backs and take us in their claws.”
“What about the bull?” I eye the great beast as he curls around his pile of treasure, his eyes never leaving the prettiest mare that prances in front of him.
“He’ll stay with the treasure.”
“Will they fight for us?” Chastain is back to worrying his poor thumbnail.
“No.” Iridiel rubs against the side of one of the females, and she chirps in her throat, her tongue slithering out to taste the air. “They aren’t fighters.”
“Not even that one?” Gareth jerks his chin to the bull.
“Oh, he’ll fight.” Iridiel shivers. “But not for us. And, as I said, he’s too possessive of his hoard to go so far afield.”
“We could use him.” Chastain stares at the bull, the scars along his snout a testament to his dueling abilities.
“If you have a mountain of gold, you might tempt him. Otherwise …” Iridiel gets too preoccupied by the wyvern female to continue.
“Hey.” I tap Chastain on the shoulder.
