Page 35 of Morel Dilemma

She’d meant that as a joke, but he considered it in silence for a long moment. Then he stepped closer, his chest brushing her arm and his hand rising to rest on her shoulder. A zing of awareness went through her as she felt the heat of his body, the magical power that he emanated, electric against her skin.

“Lately,” he said quietly, “it is not only in the morning that my body is in that state.”

“Oh?” she asked, a hitch to her voice.

Rylana wanted to lean into him, to shift to face him, but he hadn’t yet admitted… Did he want intimacy with her? After he’d made it clear several times that he didn’t, she hesitated to assume.

“Since you first battled the sisters with me by what your kind call Toadstool Rock, and I realized you do not desire to kill me… I’ve been more drawn to stand close to you. Notions have swept into me, a desire to… touch you.” He leaned his head close and nuzzled her hair, inhaling her scent.

Tingles of desire shot through Rylana, and she couldn’t resist leaning into him. She wanted to feel the hard musculature of his chest under his tunic, wanted him to do whatever he’d been fantasizing about as he woke from his dreams. She shifted enough to rest her hand on his shoulder and turn her face toward his.

“I’d be okay with that,” she whispered.

“I am aware. But, even if there were some logical reason to engage in coitus, it would be unwise.”

“I don’t mind being unwise.” She let her fingers touch his neck, tracing the strong tendons there, then brushing her nails along his jaw. “I’m regularly unwise.”

Jildarin snorted softly, his warm breath stirring her hair, sending another tingle through her. “Through no fault of your own, you’ve drawn the ire of my clan. I would prefer they come to realize you are not a… distraction to me. That is what they call you. They are unfairly dismissive.” He mirrored her light touches, running his fingers along her jaw, then brushing her ear before sliding them back into her hair, where they lingered. “This is curiously soft. Unlike dragons, who are hard everywhere. Scales are not soft and… silky.”

Heat and pleasure thrummed through Rylana. She longed to kiss him, to plaster herself to him and show him what arousal really was.

“You’ve faced many dragons in battle,” he murmured, “and, yet, they do not realize that you are brave and have value. My clan wants you gone, dead. That is intolerable.”

“I agree completely.” Rylana rose on her tiptoes and brought her lips to his, daring to touch them, to even trace them and tease them with her tongue.

The last time she’d kissed him, under the influence of his dragon spices, he’d stood stunned, not reacting at all, not giving any indication that it was pleasurable. But this time, he kissed her back while sliding his arms down to wrap around her.

Surprised and pleased, she leaned further into him. Maybe the book he’d read had discussed the proper response to a kiss. If it had been responsible for this, she would cheer its authors and have gifts of coffee and baked goods delivered to them.

Unfortunately, as Rylana slid her arms over his shoulders and up into his hair, wanting to enjoy its soft silkiness, a throat cleared nearby. They broke the kiss and turned to look toward the path. What had been one elven guard had turned into three, and they were all looking at Rylana and Jildarin.

Her cheeks heated. What, was kissing not allowed in a park where an elven ballet was taking place?

Jildarin hadn’t yet stepped back from Rylana, and he lifted his chin, as if he might say something defiant, but one of the guards spoke first.

“Pardon the interruption,” he said, more politely than she’d expected, “but one of our elders desires to speak with you.”

Right away, Rylana had a hunch and looked toward the audience. Most people were still seated and watching the final act of the show. The veiled female had disappeared, however, and so had the entourage of elves who’d been around her.

Rylana still didn’t know if that had been the queen, but if that was who wanted to speak to Jildarin, she didn’t want to keep her waiting. He might regret it if their dalliance distracted him from his quest of making a fine meal for her. Reluctantly, she lowered her arms and stepped back.

“Go ahead.” Rylana nodded at him and waved toward the elves.

“Actually, you are the one she desires to speak with.” The male elf pointed at her.

Rylana touched her chest and almost looked behind her, as if someone more interesting to the elves might lean out from behind a tree.

“Yes, Lady Avandar.”

She bit her lip, thinking of all the suspicious looks she’d received from their people these past weeks, of how more than one had wanted to take her to their enclave for questioning about Sylin. Then she thought of the sealed envelope that she hadn’t yet had a chance to give to Sylin. At the time, she’d assumed Layothlee had written whatever lay inside, but she had said she’d been instructed by someone else to deliver it. Could the queen have written it? Did she want to meet Sylin for some reason? Or maybe she wanted personally to confront the elf who’d killed so many of their kind during the war. Maybe she even wanted to get rid of that person, especially if she, like so many others, believed Sylin a threat to her. Rylana had no idea about the elf queen’s motivations or her personality or anything about her. She’d been a distant figure in the war, far from the front lines.

“I will accompany Rylana,” Jildarin stated.

Maybe he had reservations of his own. Of course, it was possible he’d also guessed the veiled female was the queen, and he wanted to speak of his mushroom medleys to her.

The elves glanced at each other. The speaker looked like he wanted to say Jildarin hadn’t been invited, but he must have decided he would let someone else deny such a powerful being.

“Very well, Lord Dragon.” The speaker crooked a finger in invitation.