“Remember your purpose.” Drake clamped Kjeld firmly on the shoulder. “Learn what you can about the witch queen, then return to Aeramere.”
Kjeld nodded once but he didn’t miss the way Caelian bristled at Drake’s words. Her spine snapped straight, and a ripple of tension flurried around her. He knew what worried her. She had no desire to return to Aeramere during the Midsummer Season, not when she would be expected to be on the hunt for a husband. That thought alone caused his blood to simmer. But he also had agreed to take her to Wenfyre, even though that part of their journey had not yet been approved by Ariesian. It would be clandestine, a secret known only to the two of them.
Assuming she still planned to venture there, of course.
“Do not fear Brackroth, or this witch queen.” Creslyn enveloped her twin in a tight hug. She eased back, adjustedthe fur hood pulled low over Caelian’s face. “You are a lady of Aeramere, a daughter of Starstorm, and?—”
“A fae kneels to no man,” Caelian confirmed, finishing Creslyn’s sentence for her. There was a chill in her voice. An edge. And she lifted her chin in spite. “I won’t soon forget it.”
Creslyn’s smile widened. “See that you don’t.”
“Stay with General Holtstrom at all times, do you understand?” Drake dipped his head, meeting Caelian’s hooded gaze, ensuring she grasped the depth of his warning. “I have no doubt much has changed since I left. Whether it is for good or for bad remains unseen.”
Caelian raised a brow, canting her head to the side. “Are you not the god of shadow and prophecy? Surely you could, I don’t know…look?”
Creslyn snorted and Drake smirked. “That’s not quite how it works. But take heed, Caelian. Brackroth is notoriously volatile in nature.”
“We should go.” Kjeld coughed lightly, clearing his throat, but it did little to ease the mounting tension strain between himself and Caelian. “No good ever comes of a delay.”
“Very well.” Caelian spun on her heel and stared up at the leather seat bound upon Odryss’s back. Her gaze took in the size of the mighty dragon, from his sharply angled jaw and long neck, to his majestic wings fitted with claws, to his dangerous tail. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
Kjeld was inclined to agree but swallowed his retort, refusing to engage in her apparently foul mood. He launched himself into the seat, then leaned over with his arms outstretched.
Drake plucked Caelian off the ground and lifted her up like she weighed no more than a feather, and Kjeld gathered her into him, securing her on his lap. She stiffened immediately as he adjusted her legs, dangling them over his left thigh. He situated her close and pulled the leather belt tight, strappingher against him. Taking the reins in one hand, he kept his other arm wrapped around her waist for an extra measure of safety, grinding his teeth to ash when she squirmed, her perfectly round ass rubbing against his thickening cock.
Think of something else.
Another wiggle and his fingers gripped her hip.
Anything else.
Caelian kept her hood pulled up, but he noticed the way she lifted her hand in a sad farewell as Odryss stood, rising to take flight.
“Vaeja,” Kjeld muttered, and the dragon launched forward. The force of his strength sent Caelian slumping against Kjeld’s chest, and her gloved hands clutched the reins, as though she was too fearful to let go.
Odryss soared from the Moonfall Peaks, his glimmering gray wings outstretched as they cut through the sea of wispy clouds and an awakening sky. The dragon continued to climb, to where the air turned cool and pleasant, until the coast of Aeramere was nothing but a distant memory. A warm, gusting breeze blew Caelian’s hood back, tangling her silvery hair and exposing her neck. Strands of pastel hair whipped around her, tickling his chin, teasing him with her scent. From this angle, he was greeted with the full swell of her bosom as her cape rippled loosely in the wind.
Once their pattern evened out and Odryss was able to glide with ease, Caelian released the reins, shifting again. Wriggling in his lap, she shimmied, fumbling with the fur hood of her cloak.
“Be still,” Kjeld snapped, his grip on the reins tightening, his fingers digging into her flesh.
She pushed at his forearm in a poor attempt to loosen his hold. “You’re hurting me.”
“Apologies, my lady.” Kjeld instantly recoiled, knowing if he wasn’t careful, he would leave bruises. His hand slid from herhip, skating over the fine fabric of her dress, before coming to rest on her thigh. “It was not my intention to hurt you.”
Somehow, that simple statement meant much more than he realized.
Caelian huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “I don’t see why you feel the need to grip me so tightly. I’m clearly not able to go anywhere.”
Again, she wiggled, fiddling with the fraying leather of the belt’s strap.
“You know not what you do,” he gritted out, desperately trying to keep the blood in his veins from pooling in his groin.
“I beg your pardon?” She tossed a hasty glance over her shoulder at him, the deep pools of her eyes tempting him to jump in and drown. She looped a fallen strand of hair back into the coiffed bun at the nape of her neck. Her beautiful, flawless neck, where layers of sapphires dripped down her throat. The corner of her mouth twitched. “Is that a threat, General?”
“No, my lady.” Kjeld’s voice was gruff, hoarse with longing. He wanted to kiss the hollow of her throat. To glide his tongue all the way to the tip of her pointed ear. He would bet anything she tasted as good as she looked, and it drove him mad with lust. The ravenous hunger for her would not ease. He was starved. Damn near famished. “Not a threat.”
She fidgeted then, clasping her hands together in her lap. He prayed she wouldn’t move, that she would sit there silently and contemplate their scant interaction. But then she twisted in his lap, attempting to face him fully, and he was certain she had to know. Surely she could feel his hardened length pushing into her.
