Magical Lover (15 page)

“Ride? On that, that, creature?” Lily’s voice rose.

“He’s a dragon. Same as me. One day I can turn like that. That’s grand, huh?”

Lily’s face turned paler than normal. “Sure. Great. How are we supposed to stay on a...dragon?

“Duh. Hold on, silly. How’re you doing Keara?”

Better. If I concentrate, I can move my hand.

We’ll come back and kill them, you know.

You’ll do nothing of the sort! And why did you wander off in the middle of the night when we were being chased?

“Are you two talking again? That’s rude to do that in front of me, you know.”

“You’re right. I think I’m needed over there.” Jamie leapt to his feet and ran off.

We’re not done, buddy.

Uh-huh.

Boys.

She’d deal with him later. When she felt better. Thank the Goddess they were leaving. Hopefully Simon and the hooded Draconi wouldn’t bother following them. She shuddered, remembering their touches, what they wanted to do to her, the fear she felt lying bound and helpless.

The way Thoren strode in and saved her.

And said nothing about how stupid it was for her to chase after Jamie on her own.

Too bad Thoren didn’t see her as his wife. Didn’t see her as anything but an obligation.

“I’m a little scared about riding on the dragon.”

Moving her eyes to focus on Lily’s face didn’t take much of an effort. Cranking her lips into a semblance of a smile did.

She didn’t mind the dragon. He belonged to her race, her people. How apropos that he would be carrying her to them. If only Thoren would ride with them, then she could go about convincing him to notice her.

Did she want him to notice her?

Yes, yes she did.

How did one go about getting a man to take notice? Relationships with the opposite sex were not her thing.

But challenges? Her entire life had been a challenge. Living with her grandmother, the entire town—with the exception of Lily—fearing her, learning herb lore.

She liked a good challenge, especially when it came coupled with learning something new. According to her customs, he was her husband. And it was up to her to convince him of it.

Chapter 10

Flying, it’s a good two days, day and a half if you push it, to get back home,
Fafnir said as they strode away from the campsite.

The Council forbids us to turn while outside of Draconia.

You work for the Council?

I do.
Thoren couldn’t help the pride lacing his words.

Doesn’t the Council allow for outstanding circumstances? Like a drugged Halfling with a rogue Draconi and crazed nobleman on her trail?

Did it? Thoren looked at Enar who shrugged. Enar didn’t care as much about the Council as Thoren did. Who was he fooling? Enar hated the Council. But one of them should know all the rules and as he never needed to use the extenuating circumstances allowances, he forgot them. Looked like Enar had too.

His inner beast twisted, begging to be set free, to fly, to protect Keara. By the Goddess, but he was tired of feeling split in half—the rational side and the completely crazed one.

Although at the moment, he wasn’t sure which was which.

Fafnir had a point. Keara was ill. The drug’s effects lessened as the moments ticked by, but he worried about long-term side effects.

Everything about her worried him. The fact that Fafnir carried her instead of him. The pallor of her skin. Her feeble attempts to move.

Protect and save.

If he was punished, so be it.

You’re right. We can fly until sundown and then make camp.

“Good call. The quicker we get there, the quicker we can return and put an end to this.”

Thoren nodded to Enar, wondering for the umpteenth time how a Watcher understood mind-speak. As far as he knew, Enar was the only Watcher with that ability but maybe others had it and kept it hidden. More thoughts for another day.

Closing his eyes, Thoren called his beast, which didn’t take long to appear since being around Keara made the dragon primed and ready to go. Turning struck him in a rush of scales and claws, bones elongating, growing bigger, flesh hardening.

As usual, turning was painless, another mind boggler as he went from two legs and seventeen stone to four legs and over a hundred and forty.

Thoren shook his head, rippling muscles and scales, his claws digging into the grass. He stood slightly taller than Fafnir and wasn’t that a good thing? Females liked bigger males.

It seemed he lacked control over emotions in his dragon state. Tearing Fafnir apart for having Keara on his back sounded like a great idea. Was he actually snarling at the older dragon?

Apparently, his higher reasoning had given way to hatchling-like behavior. This mating business was for other dragons. He could do without all the crazed must-kill-what-threatens-Keara thoughts banging around in his body. If all male Draconi felt like this once they bonded to their mate it was a wonder they didn’t all kill each other.

He wanted Keara to ride on his back. To soar above the ground and through the clouds with him. To know that he held her, that he protected her. He needed to stop thinking like that. Ropes tied Keara to Lily, who sat in front, and Jamie brought up the rear, wrapping his arms around her waist. Talk about protective. The boy had a tight grip on Keara, ensuring she wouldn’t fall off Fafnir’s back.

No, Keara would remain where she sat. Thoren knelt and Enar pitched their gear onto his back, wrapping a line of rope around the bags to hold them in place.

“Quit fidgeting, dragon.”

Quit moving the rope. Are you trying to give me burns?

Enar snorted. “Uh-huh, right. Burn a dragon with a rope?”

Just get on and hey, watch where you step. Scales don’t like to be bent backward.
Thoren shook his leg, the flesh stinging from the bent scale.

“Whiny boy aren’t we?”

Thoren turned and gave Enar a glare.

Enar straddled his back, shifting his weight from side to side, obviously trying to find a comfortable position. “I’m on, but you need to work on softening these scales. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable they are?”

Now who’s the whiny boy?

He didn’t have to have eyes in the back of his head to see the glare Enar gave him.

Ready?
Thoren asked Fafnir.

I am.

Thoren hopped, flapping his wings, pushing against the air, rising into the sky. Nothing like flying, an activity he should do more often. Water droplets in the clouds brushed against his wings, a steady breeze whipped against his face. The ground faded away, swept by the thrumming beat of their wings. The sun journeyed across the sky and still they flew, cloaked in an invisibility spell.

Why did the Council insist on forbidding turning when on missions? Flying saved time and the view was spectacular. Rivers, forests, glades, all looked better from the air. The sharp breeze focused his thoughts, especially those regarding Keara.

She had mentioned the rogue Draconi wanting to unlock her powers. If he had unlocked her powers when he first found her, then she could have escaped Simon and the Draconi. Too bad he hadn’t thought of unlocking them the night before, it might have prevented the troubles of the day.

Maybe he should unlock her powers tonight.

A tremor ran through his body at the thought. He could perform the ritual, unlock her powers and share a bedroll with Keara. Provided the drug wore off. He glanced at her, his eyes picking up movement as she flexed her arms.

Praise the Goddess she was recovering.

But he was still selfish to want to unlock her powers. Was it really for her or did he want to taste her first before he returned her to his people? Before he returned to his life of adventure? For once returning to the job didn’t bring the same pleasure as normal. Flying over the hills of Draconia with his mate on his back sounded much more appealing.

He cursed. He was halfway to the kingdom of lovesick fools and falling fast.

We need to land. It’s getting dark.

Thoren turned his head to Fafnir and nodded.
What about on the other side of that clump of trees? The ground looks level.

Sounds good.

A couple of thumps later and they were down. Dropping his invisibility spell, Thoren knelt, and Enar jumped to the ground.

“We need to do that more often. I love flying,” Enar said as he pulled the gear from Thoren’s back.

“I don’t. I thought I was going to throw up.” Lily leaned against Fafnir’s neck.

“It was the best!” Jamie started untying Keara from Lily.

“I’m feeling better and think I can move.” Keara pushed the rope over her head.

Relief flooding Thoren’s senses, his knees going weak. Good thing he had four legs on the ground instead of two or he might have embarrassed himself by falling. Keara’s coloring had returned, her eyes twinkled, although she moved slower than she had this morning.

“All off, dragon. You can turn back if you want.”

He wanted. Definitely wanted. Wanted to touch Keara with his hands, wanted to ensure she was whole. Closing his eyes, he willed the beast into its cave, shrinking, pulling the scales inside, retracting the claws. The magic passed over his skin, rippling muscles, stretching skin over bones, until he stood naked before them.

Keara’s eyes popped wide as she glanced down his body.
Brainless today, Thoren?
He forgot to dress. With a snap of his fingers, clothes covered his bare skin. Keara continued to stare, a blush on her cheeks.

Good thing he now had on clothes or she’d have a clear view of what was going on behind his leathers. One glance from her and his body was ready to show off its abilities to please a female. He clasped his hands together, trying to hide the bulge in his leathers. Keara’s face turned the color of her hair and she twisted around, holding her arms up for Jamie.

Enar slapped Thoren in the chest. “Hey, stop staring at her arse and get to work. We need to put up camp.”

“I wasn’t staring.” With effort, he turned to Enar. “What needs done?”

Several minutes later, they had a fire going, bedrolls slung around the heat. Night moved in with a chill on the autumn air, making the crackling flames a cheery welcome.

Thoren watched Keara eat as she tore off tiny bites, popping dried meat into her mouth. The tip of her tongue passed over her lips and his shaft twitched. He shifted and looked at Fafnir chewing on a deer carcass, effectively taking care of the growing-bulge-behind-the-leathers problem. Fafnir’s teeth ripped through flesh, splattering blood on the ground. Nothing sexy about that.