“Exactly that. Scars.”
“But,” I pause, trying to comprehend what I saw. “That’s a lot of scars.”
“Yeah. That’s why I usually wear a shirt.”
“Would you stop walking away from me for a minute!?” He doesn’t stop walking. “Who did that to you?” I demand.
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I want to know who did it, so I can return the favor.”
He stops walking then and turns around. “You’re going to carve up somebody’s back with a knife?”
I don’t bat an eye, even as my stomach pitches. “Yes.”
He shakes his head. “No, you’re not; you’re not that cruel.”
I laugh coldly. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
I stare up at him. “Who did it?” I’m not even sure he’ll answer me. He certainly doesn’t have to.
“My father.” He walks over to the dragons, and I follow.
“You know, I’m really beginning to wish you hadn’t killed your father.”
“It’s a little late for that,” he says dryly.
“Because if you hadn’t killed him, then I could.”
“Bloodthirsty much?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder at me. I can’t really get a feel from him, and it throws me off.
“I’m serious.”
“What if I deserved it? What if I was a really bad boy?” he asks, not looking away from me as we come to a standstill next to Nox.
“It doesn’t matter; nobody deserves that.”
“Well, it happened. Now, up you go.” I look up at Noxlyn, and he suddenly looks a lot taller than I remember him being. “Can you get up there?”
I scoff. “Of course I can.” Noxlyn stands tall and proud and not remotely concerned about me trying to get on his back.All right; here goes.It is not pretty, but I finally make it onto his back. By the time I get into position, I’m breathing hard and sweating; and my entire body feels like it's on fire. I close my eyes and try to breathe through the pain. I think about how bad this flight is going to be, having to fly while in pain like this. And then Rauk settles in behind me, and I decide the pain is going to pale in comparison with having to fly with Rauk at my back. “Just don’t shove me off or anything crazy.”
“I guess it will depend.” He’s so close, I can feel the rumble in his chest from his voice.
“On what?” I ask.
“On whether or not you’re a pain in my backside as we ride.”
I huff at that. “I am not a pain.”
“You sure about that, Stabby?”
I frown. “Stabby?”
“Yeah, you get stabby when you get mad.”
I lift my hand holding my knife over his thigh. “Should I try out my nickname?”
