Do you refer to acts of coitus?
Among humans, yes.
Tongues are involved? How strange. Would you perhaps speak to your queen and see if she knows Wreylith’s favorite prey? I am certain she enjoys eliok, but they’ve been hunted extensively these past weeks and may be difficult to find on this island.
I can ask her the next time I see her, yes.
Someone spoke in the corridor, words muffled by the thick walls and doors. In case someone was coming to question him—or torture him?—Vorik rolled into a crouch, ready to spring, though the shackles would hinder him.
Syla wouldn’t order him tortured, but if she hadn’t yet recovered from using the weapons platform, some overly assertive military officer would be in charge. It was bad enough that several of the soldiers had slammed punches into Vorik’s sides as they’d dragged him down here. With Wreylith looming nearby, Vorik hadn’t even been resisting them.
A key turned in a lock, and the door opened.
Sergeant Fel ducked his shaven head to enter the cell, his maceanda dagger in his hands. Vorik straightened to face him, their eyes meeting.
Earlier, Fel had kept the soldiers from killing Vorik, instead giving orders to have him locked up, but he didn’t look pleased about the situation. More men lurked in the corridor. Wearing the blue uniforms of Royal Protectors, they all gripped swords or crossbows. They didn’t step into the cell behind Fel, however. Syla did.
Clad in a blue dress damp at the hem and neckline, with her equally damp hair fallen from the bun it had been in earlier, she had bags under her eyes and stood with a weary slump. That didn’t keep Vorik from looking at her with appreciation, admiring everything from her engaging curves to her full lips to the warmth in her gray eyes when she looked at him through her spectacles. She wore new ones, the red frames bright against her auburn hair. Someone must have crafted them to match Wreylith’s scales.
Syla looked at Fel, as if she wanted to ask him to leave, but she must have known he wouldn’t. Instead, she closed the door, stepped around him, and hugged Vorik.
He hadn’t expected that and lamented that he hadn’t tried to free his wrists so that he could return the embrace. He could feel not only the warmth of her body through their clothing but the energy of her power, more noticeable than it had been before when he’d been with her. The dragon bond must have added to the magic she already possessed.
“Thank you for coming,” she whispered into his neck, brushing her lips over his skin.
A thrum of heat coursed through Vorik, and he wished shehadsent her bodyguard outside. He shouldn’t want to be with her after she’d killed his allies, but they’d attacked her, so how could he blame her for the result?
“I would say you’re welcome, but I would feel guilty if I did.” As he so often was with her, Vorik felt compelled to honesty—far more than was wise. “I came to kidnap you.”
Syla leaned back to look at his face, though she left her hands on his shoulders. “I thought you saw Lesva attacking and decided to rescue me from her again.”
“When I flew down, I had no idea she would pop out of the water like a hyperactive dolphin.”
She snorted softly. “Is kidnapping me what your general ordered?”
“No, he wants…” Vorik looked away. “Since you are the one who can control that weapons platform, he wanted another fate for you.”
“My death?”
Vorik shrugged vaguely. Since she hated Jhiton already, he didn’t want to make it worse by voicing his brother’s desires.
“He’s loathsome,” Syla said.
“You’ve stated that opinion before.”
“It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.”
“He’s not overly fond of you either, if it helps. He’s keeping track of all the times you’ve tried to kill him.”
“Can he count that high without using his thumbs?”
“He’s rather bright, actually.”
“Uh-huh. I hate him.”
“I know.” Vorik shrugged again, not blaming her but wishing the situation were different. Wishing… He sighed. He didn’t even know what to wish.
“Did you volunteer to attempt to kidnap me as an alternative to killing me?” Syla asked.
