Page 22 of Dragon Lord
“Och!”Her hand flew to her sword.But a heartbeat or two later, she let go of the weapon.
She sat and yawned, then stretched.The effect of her body in those damned formfitting britches was the same on Draknart as it had been before.The man inside him stirred.
The day could not pass fast enough.
Her gaze turned calculating.“Do we return home?”
“We stay another day.”They had to wait until twilight to see if the restored faerie circle would work.
She turned toward the lake, thinking deeply about something, her shirt stretched over breasts perfectly outlined in the muted light of dawn.She raked tiny white pearls of teeth over her full, ruby bottom lip.
“I’ll go look around from above,” Draknart said and launched to the air to fly a few circles.
He spotted a bear—the one that had been too cowardly to challenge him in the night—a large pack of wolves, as well as some smaller game, but no men, not nearby at least.The nearest village was on the other side of the lake.
Draknart did go for a visit.He dipped into a low flyover when he reached the ragtag collection of huts—a lot of screaming and running about—but he didn’t set as much as a single thatched roof on fire.He was a picture of self-control, he was.Einin couldn’t find a fault in him that morning.
He returned to her, landing in the middle of their small beach.While he’d been gone, she’d washed her face, rebraided her hair, and eaten the second half of her rabbit.
“What will we do today?”she asked, with only a hint of wariness.
“I could take you flying.”He wanted to hear her laugh again.He would just have to find a way to ignore the feel of her slim thighs clamped around his neck.
“Yes!”Enthusiasm replaced the wariness in amber her eyes.“Please.I mean, thank you.I would like that.”
Draknart held still while she climbed his scaled body, her small hands all over him.The sooner they were in the air, the better.“Ready?”
“Aye!”
He flew a lazy loop around the lake, smiling when she squealed in delight.“How ’bout a swim?We have plenty of time.”
Einin shouted toward his ear, but the wind whooshed by too loudly for him to hear her as he dove for the water, then under the lapping waves.Her arms and legs tightened around his neck.The muscles of her thighs squeezed him.Pleasure tingled through his body.But then she gripped tighter and tighter, communicating a different mood from his.
He bumped back up to the surface and floated.“What is it?”
She gasped for air.Coughed.“I can’t swim.”
“All living things can swim.Some might not like the water, but they can all paddle along enough to save themselves in a flood.Cowscan swim.”
She coughed some more and refused to loosen her grip.
He held her safe with one wing as he shifted to his back and stretched out on the water, plopping her back on his belly.At least they could see eye to eye this way.
She lay flat on top of him, all wrung out, holding on for dear life.“I never learned.The creek near the village is too shallow, and even the closest lake is too far away.”
“Humans cannot swim?”
“Not unless taught.”
“Huh.A species with many shortcomings.”
She elbowed him in the ribs.
He decided not to tell her that he had high hopes that someday, the villages would disappear altogether.A heavy flood might help—the gods willing.And, if they all didn’t drown, maybe a new plague.
He floated around the middle of the lake.After a while, Einin’s death grip eased, and she relaxed against him.
“It’s peaceful here,” she told him.“I’ve never been this far from the village before.”
