Page 80 of Ashborne: Defiance

“One of our first exercises is to learn the limits of our equipment—and to learn to trust its strength. A very necessary aspect of flight for war. We cannot make decisions in battle out of fear. We must have utmost confidence in our dragons, our equipment, and ourselves.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

I smiled, taking a little joy in anticipation that the request would unnerve her. She’d be perfectly safe, though she wouldn’t feel it.

“Let me check your safety strap.”

She was already twisted in her seat, so it was a simple thing to double-check that she was clipped into a leather belt that wouldn’t snap.

I knotted the end of the belt around itself, holding myself tightly because I was forced to touch her, which made my skin tingle. But glad, as well, that she’d taken that stableboy’s clothing. Though I’d brought her clean trousers, she still wore the original belt. Clearly the young man was bigger than her around the middle, because there was plenty of length remaining in the strong leather to ensure the buckle wouldn’t give under the force of her bodyweight.

When I was satisfied that she was at no danger of falling, I still instructed Kham to send Koa to fly underneath us, just to be certain. It was protocol to ensure there was always a second chance to save a falling Furyknight.

Then I took a deep breath and tried not to smile. “You’re going to stand up—brace your heels inside my thighs. Kham’s wing ridges will give us leverage. And when you’ve stood in flight, you’re going to throw yourself off, and let the safety strap catch you.”

Her eyes flew wide and she turned to look at me again. “Are you teasing me?”

I shook my head. “I’m actually providing you an advantage. Every Flameborne who’s acknowledged by the herd is taken on their first flight, and expected to undergo a series of tests like this. If you practice first—and overcome your fear—when you do it in the test, you’ll make all your brothers look bad.”

Her brows pinched. “You want me to make them look bad? Why would I want to do that?”

I huffed. “Trust me, if you hope to make Furyknight rank, you’re going to do everything in your power to show your brothers up,” I chuckled.

She blinked and a strange expression flit across her pretty features, but she swallowed. “Very well.”

I smiled as she turned to face forward again. “You’ll need to—”

But before I could say another word, she’d leaned forward, planted both hands on Kham’s withers in opposing directions, just as I’d taught her for best balance, leaned forward to take her weight on her braced arms, then scrambled with her feet to lift her ass into the air—and right into my face, an aspect of this I hadn’t considered—and positioned her booted feet on either side of Kham’s spine, the soles flat on his sloped sides, and wedged between my thighs and his scales.

I caught her hips when she tried to straighten and immediately almost took a nose dive over his shoulder.

“Oh!” she cried, but caught one of his spines and steadied herself.

So much for my distraction from her warm curves.

A surge of want clenched my guts. I chuckled breathlessly at my own discomfort, knowing if my brothers were there and knew what I’d been trying to avoid, they would have laughed their asses off.

I leaned back so her behind wasn’t right in my face, and focused on helping her balance.

Soon, as she transferred most of her weight to her legs, I had to grip tightly with my thighs so her feet wouldn’t slip off his sides.

One hand on each hip, and leaning aside to watch where we flew, and how she gripped his spine. Within a minute, she’d found her balance and was slowly lifting her hands from his back.

Dear Lord, she was bold.

“Like this?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes fixed on his back. She was already half-upright, but then Kham down-flapped and his back shifted under us. She wobbled and whooped, but her fingers only brushed his spine. I caught her hips and helped her steady.

“Don’t brace your knees. Kept them slightly bent and soft—yes, like that! Let them soften the movement for you until you can feel him under you and… yes…”

I shook my head in disbelief. Most men at least hesitated the first time they were told to stand up in flight. And some—like my squad-brother Harle—shit themselves at the thought.

Yet, here she was, laughing shakily, wobbling, but eager. Her eyes bright.

I cleared my throat. “Keep your eyes on Kham’s head, not his back under you—I know it feels like you need to see it, but you can feel his movement through the soles of your feet. Keeping your eyes forward, as his are, will help your body anticipate his movement and find the rhythm and angle when he turns.”

“Turns?!”

“Not yet,” I reassured her with a grin. “But yes, the day will come when you’re confident to squat or stand through any movement that isn’t battle.”