His pity was what she needed to turn to steel. Who the hell did he think he was? She didn't need him. She leaned in close and whispered it.
"Fuck you, Diem. I don't need your help."
"You're going to pay for that later," he assured her with a chuckle. There wasn't a drop of fear in her now, just determination. She was getting on that dragon and hanging onto that bitch no matter what happened. The only way Trust could throw her was if her fingers came off first.
The snort blast from Trust didn't deter her, even though it heated her calves right through her boots.
"Fuck you too," she grumbled to the dragon as she grabbed hold of his neck and slung her leg over the top. It took a moment for the dragon to realize he was collared, between her thighs. She clamped her knees to him just in time. Trust shot into the sky like a rocket fueled by nitrous oxide. Maeve was thrown back, her spine glued to the dragon's, her head flat at the base of his tail.
The pressure of the wind tore at the grip of her knees. She felt herself slip.
"Oh no you don't, bitch..." She clamped her kneecaps to his gelatinous plates, pressing in hard enough that the dragon let out a roar. Not a squeak or a little burp, but a full roar that was as loud as Forge. Maeve didn't let go. When he leveled out, she sat up feeling a little dizzy, but elated.
Until he bucked.
His spine snapped like a snake shook from the tip of its tail. The wave of his body bucked beneath her, separating her rear from his back and loosening the grip of her legs.
"Son of a bitch!" Maeve shrieked. She dove forward and collared him. Her arms around his neck, the edges of his plates cut into her biceps, but she didn't let go. The dragon flung its neck from side to side and on the third swing, Maeve's legs came loose. She dangled from the animal's neck in midair. One hard shake and a backward scoop of his wings and he'd be free.
And she'd be falling to Earth like a jelly-filled brick.
Maeve still wasn't frightened. She was too pissed for that.
She threw a leg up over Trust's neck and heaved herself back into the crook between the dragon's neck and body. She wanted to wring the heathen's neck. As if in response, the dragon shook again.
Maeve threw her body against him this time. She wound her limbs around him, feeling the plates sticking into the skin of her arms and legs. She closed her eyes and held on. She'd hang on until he stopped. He had to stop. He had to—
The dragon stopped. Carefully, Maeve shifted back into the riding position.
Trust leveled out as Maeve's breathing returned to normal. Her double heartbeat became one strong thump at a time. With the slightest pressure on her knees, she found she could guide Trust easily. A slide downward and he dove; pulling up her knees as his nose tilted, flying them toward the sky. It was like steering with a joystick between her knees. She marveled at how smooth he flew, how her direction kept him straight and level. As they soared through the clouds, Maeve breathed deep. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt so connected to anything in all her life.
It was hours before she finally guided Trust back down to the ground. Diem sat on the ground below, leaning against a gorne stump, watching as the dragon land with a feather touch.
"It was..." Maeve began, but the dragon gave a heave. The snap came from his tail up his back, one last effort to remove her and Maeve wasn't ready for it. Diem hollered as she pitched forward, over the dragon's head, only managing to grab hold of the tiny tip of Trust's ear as she went, but she held on. Once she landed, her arm was bent backward over her head. She was still hanging on as she twirled to face the dragon as she kept his ear pinched between her fingertips. The dragon squealed, but she didn't let go.
Maeve pushed the dragon's head down with her free hand. Diem was saying something behind her, but she blocked his voice out. Staring straight into Trust's eyes, Maeve didn't blink until the dragon did. Then she growled to the creature, "I'm getting back on and you're going to let me off right, you hear?"
The dragon didn't move. She kept hold of its ear as she moved around the side and climbed back on. Once seated, she pressed her knees firmly into his sides and gave a calm, low whistle. This time, Trust stayed still as a rock as she dismounted.
"Incredible," Diem breathed. Maeve walked to him and he took her arms, coating them with a thin glaze of medicine that sealed the wounds from the dragon's plates.
"What?" she said haughtily as she applied the medicine to the cuts on her legs. "You think you're the only one in the world who can train a dragon?"
The moment she was finished, he picked her up with a whoop and threw her over his shoulder. He carried her into the shack and kicked the door shut with his foot. He laid her on his bed, on her stomach, dropping down on his knees. Without pause, he reached for her, a soft fingertip teasing her through her clothing.
"All I could think of was you riding that dragon naked," he whispered. "Riding me naked...my hands on you, my mouth on you, and my flex in you."
Any tension that remained in Maeve's body gave way to the exhilaration of what she'd just done, mixed with the sensations of Diem's strong and capable hands on her and his husky voice in her ear. He'd been thinking of her body. The thought throbbed between her legs. She didn't try to fight him when he pulled off her new pants and lifted set on her knees in front of him. He didn't give her a chance to argue, as he brought his mouth against her sex.
She forgot to fight as his tongue entered her. His breath was hot and she rocked against him, pushing him deeper. He moaned, flicking his tongue inside her, soft and hot.
"Yes," she moaned, but then the sweet heat of his mouth disappeared.
Before she could turn, his hands gripped her hips and the head of his erection rutted against her. He pushed hard at her small opening, her slick juices anointing the crown.
"Spread," he whispered, his palm shoving her thigh to the side. She slowly complied, moving her knee wide as she pressed her bottom to him. He groaned and brought his hand down between her shoulder blades. He pressed her flat to the bed as he entered her, thrusting to his hilt. She bit her lip as he fisted her hair and dragged her up to his chest, impaling her upon his length.
"You are mine," he said through gritted teeth. She rose up as much as she could and brought herself down hard on him, thrusting his delicious rod deeply inside her. She twitched her hips, feeling him throb against her walls.
"Wrong," she said. "You are mine."
His throaty laugh was the last thing she heard before he thrust into her so deep that the resulting orgasm shut down every function of her body. The primal sound that spiraled out of her unhinged her control.
He followed her release, holding her steady to him. His hips bucked against her with the last drops of his passion, before he folded her down on the bed beside him, his manhood still thick inside her. It took moments before either of their breathing returned to normal, before either could scale back from the heights of their passion.
Maeve finally laid her head on his chest, feeling the lazy drag of his fingers through her hair. His heart beat strong and steady below her ear.
She was suddenly lost in this man.
The fear lashed into her.
The grip on her own independence had slipped the moment she'd allowed him to take her from behind. No, it first stumbled when he'd taught her to train the dragon. No, it had been long before that. He'd been coaxing her trust from her since the moment they'd first met.
What was important now, what was terrifying to her, was that he'd won. Lying there upon him was her surrender. She knew she would give him whatever he wanted of her.
Anything.
Everything.
All of her.
It was overwhelming. She hadn't trusted a man in...never. Opening herself meant that he could destroy her, if he desired. She was terrified at how she wanted to give him that ability too. She'd never given more than the smallest fraction of herself to a lover and now, on the precipice of giving Diem everything she had, the vulnerability was too intense for her to handl
e. She was glad she wasn't facing him as the tears slid from her cheek and slipped down the side of his belly, but then a rogue shiver gave her away.
"Are you crying?" he asked. His fingers paused in her hair. She wiped her face miserably.
"This is what weakness feels like," she whispered.
"No," he said. His tone was soft, but disapproving. "This is what trust feels like, Maeve."
CHAPTER THIRTY
Start of Cold Season One, Year 2095
Steven Burtman made his way back through the Archive corridors, past the barricades that the Archivers had put in place, hoping to block the nose or claws of a dinosaur that might break into their halls. The barricades would go up like marshmallows with one breath from the animals that were really on the surface.
He pushed aside a flimsy sheet of transparent plastic that was intended to block the radiation or the toxic particles that might be tangled in the air from the surface. All the barriers seemed embarrassingly foolish now that he knew what was truly up there.
Steven tread down the central hall, worried with how he was going to tell the Archivers, and worse, how he was going to make them believe.
***
The Rhas returned that evening. The chill was hard in the air, a sharp taste of the new season. Diem took Maeve out to the middle of the dragon grounds with him as he made a fire.
"Do not speak, unless I speak to you first," he instructed her, but he could tell by the set of her jaw that she already had no intention of heeding his instructions. It was not House custom for a man to have to explain himself to a woman he was only mating, but Diem was moved to do it. The strings of this burgeoning connection to Maeve drew both patience and explanations from him. "The reason you would not want to speak is because these Rhas will demand answers that you may not have. Your answers could put me in a bad position."
"God forbid, you get stuck in a bad position," Maeve blew some hair from her eyes. Diem paused to give his further explanation weight with her.
"If I have to kill a Rha for overstepping his boundaries with you, it would be a very bad position."
She looked away then, but he was satisfied that she understood the point he made.
When the Rhas landed, one by one, she was surprisingly silent, only nodded as they greeted her. Diem wasn't sure if he was more relieved or awed, since her own acknowledgments of the other Rhas seemed both proud and dismissive. Women never showed that kind of confidence in Diem's presence. Maeve acted as though she belonged around the fire as much or more than the rest of them did.
And as far as Diem was concerned, she had it right.
The Rhas gathered, seated on spindling stumps around the fire. Started from a Buntle trunk, the flame before them didn't crackle or smoke. It burned a deep blue that was nearly lost in the darkness. It cast heat but had no scent, and its light was only a slightly dimmer shade of the shadowed faces around it. The dragons were assembled in a circle around the men and Maeve, lying tail to tail to do it, to block the meeting completely.
"The shipment went out today," Diem said, "but another will be coming fast and we already know we don't have the dragons we need. We must decide when we will attack."
"I am confident that we can seal the wormhole located on our peninsula," Shown said. "However, it might take all of our dragons to do it, depending on the resistance we get."
"We only have our dragons to work with and some won't be of much use," Diem said. "To seal a wormhole, a dragon's flame must be precisely targeted. Bark isn't fit for flying and since the wormhole is so obscured, we don't know how high up it is, so that counts him out. Cirque is fast, but is too..."
"Impulsive," Span grunted with a shift of his eyes to Impulse.
Diem nodded in agreement. "No offenses meant, but if Cirque shoots too quickly and misses, he could seal only part of the hole or none at all and timing will be crucial. The longer we take to seal the hole, the more likely the Plutians will be to send larger numbers to counter us. Depending on the size of the hole, it may take several shots of flame to completely seal it."
"It must be done quickly," Span said with another hot glimpse to Impulse, "but not impulsively."
"So fast to discredit," Impulse tsked. "My dragon has lightening fast reflexes and with some training, he could improve. If we are looking at all the possibilities of failure, then Cirque is still a better choice than even Soar. My dragon isn't quite so voluminous."
"Soar could outrun your little Echo dragon in any race, regardless of his size," Span growled.
"Possibly," Impulse crossed his arms, tapping a finger on his elbow. "But you'd have to skin him to his skeleton to get him through a vestibule."
Impulse had a point. Soar was fast and formidable, not built for hiding or squeezing into spaces, but for smashing them open. Span looked away, grumbling to Shown, "Do we know if there is a vestibule to the wormhole?"
"We are not sure," Shown said. "We've located the opening, but it is obscured—"
"Obscured," Impulse said. "How do we know what size the opening is if it is obscured? The Plutians could bring their whole planet through!"
"As we said, we will need all of our forces," Diem said. "We don't know what it will take to seal the hole. It might take the flame of one dragon or all five."
"Or six hundred," Flesh mumbled. Bundled in his furry coat, the Rha looked like a three hundred pound hampig on his stump. "There is still the question of the other wormhole."
"We can only work with what we know," Shown said.
"But we will prepare for what we don't," Diem added. "And we have one extra dragon. A heathen."
Span shifted on his seat. "Oh?"
"A Samoan heathen from the unexpected hoarde, which I used to cover what would have been our shortage this season..."
"We must decide a skilled rider!" Impulse said, but Diem raised a hand.
"The dragon has bonded to its master already," he said.
"Who?" Span asked.
"Me." Maeve said. Diem frowned a bit.
Span guffawed. "You gave a heathen to a woman? What kind of magic swol is this?"
Diem jumped to his feet the moment the insult left Span's lips, but Maeve was already standing beside him. Diem expected her to be as outraged as he was, but she was calm as she crossed to Span's stump. She loomed over him.
"Swol?" she smirked, peering down at the Rha. Even in the dim light, their gazes struck one another like two streams of dragon flame. "You know nothing about me. Only a man with a weak flex would talk about a woman he knows nothing about."
The air in the circle closed in tight. Maeve had no idea what she was doing, insulting the Rha. In retaliation, Span could throw her down and attempt to have her in front of them all, to prove his prowess to both her and the other Rhas. Diem stood ready for whatever move Span would make.
But Shown got to his feet and stood behind Maeve. It was a definite show of force—it would be two Rhas against one, since neither Impulse nor Flesh were pulling their backsides from their fireside stumps to declare a side themselves.
Still, Span had never been cowed by a lack of support or unlikely odds. Diem held for the Rhas reaction.
Span merely scratched his chin and looked away. It could have been that he realized that he needed the instruction and the alliance of this ring as much as they needed him, but Diem knew that Span was not afraid to strike out on his own, a maverick. Diem was more than a little stunned. He had seen Span stand his ground against the most powerful of men and even some Plutians. But against this woman, with her boots and her defiant gaze, Span closed his mouth tight. He wouldn't apologize, but more importantly, he didn't attack.
"Let's make our plans with what we have available," Shown said as he returned to his seat. Diem and Maeve did the same, but Diem was pleased with how Maeve held herself. She didn't dart angry glares around the fire. Instead, she sat straight, and it was obvious by her carriage, as well as the posture of the Rhas, that she was now part of the conversation.
"We will need
ground forces," Shown said. "We will need protection for our Houses."
"We have something else to offer," Diem added. "Guns. And extra fighters."
The other Rhas leaned forward, elbows on their knees, expressions hard and suspicious.
"You've been hiding things of worth from us?" Span asked. His eyes flicked to Maeve.
"As if that would be a new practice to you," Impulse rolled his eyes at Span.
"Please," Shown spoke over them all. "Tell us what you have that might help us all, Rha Diem."
"We have an Archive," Maeve said instead. All the men's attention flashed to her. Diem's muscles tensed along his spine, ready, as he watched the other Rhas, but he didn't bother to stop her from speaking. "There is a place beneath the ground that was recently unearthed. People paid, a long time ago, to be kept alive, suspended in sleeping chambers. Before the Plutians came..."
"You're one of them," Span said, stroking his chin.
"An alien?" Impulse asked.
"No, she is human," Span said. "As human as any of us. She is from the archaic Earth."
"And you've been living in the ground all this time?" Flesh said.
"Suspended and asleep, in Profanyl chambers, to preserve people during the oxygen depletion..."
"The Archive," Span said. He rubbed his chin, studying Maeve's face as if he was trying to place it. "I remember it."
"That's where I've come from," Maeve said. "My name is Maeve Aypotu. Those chambers were supposed to be opened in seventeen years, but the Archive closed and the entrances were bulldozed in. The chambers were left, forgotten. Its been 82 years, not 17, so, here I am. There are 53 people down there now. And we have guns. We have other things to offer to the fight too, in return for our safety."
"Safety," Span snorted. "None of us have it to offer. We don't have it ourselves."
Impulse looked to the other Rhas, his tongue flicking out on his lips with excitement.
"Fifty-three humans?" Impulse asked. "Why not offer them? We could barter these spare humans and save our Houses from this blood shed!"
The Fly House (The UtopYA Collection) Page 36