“That is not something to which I aspire. My ancestors were always soldiers. We always served our rulers. I watched power turn Hul into something less pleasant than he was before, and I have no wish for that kind of temptation. Power of scale and sinew is all I understand.”
“I see. And what do you ask for in exchange for leading us personally into the mountain?” Zala looked at his collar, expecting him to negotiate for his freedom again.
“Nothing more than before. When I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain, set me free, as you promised.”
“Hm.” Despite who he was—or maybe because of it—she wanted to trust him, but he could lead them into a trap. He might somehow alert those inside of his headquarters, and her infiltration team could find a horde of dragons waiting for them, eager for the chance to claim two storm swords for themselves, to deprive humanity of the precious and rare tools. There was also the possibility that they could use that collar to track him and would be aware of his approach.
“There is one thing I would like,” Talon said, his voice soft.
“What?”
“Your name. I understand that humans have two or three, and that one is more personal, for friends and family to use.” He lifted a hand slowly, and she watched it rise, not afraid of him, but not certain she wanted to let him touch her. Given the attraction she felt toward him, that did not seem wise. Yet, she did not back away, and he brushed his knuckles down the side of her face. “I would like to know that name.”
His touch was gentle, as were his eyes as he gazed at her. Their intensity had changed, softened, and that look filled her with heat, heat that curled all the way through her body, tingling down her nerves to her hands and toes at the same time as it coiled between her legs, tightening and building.
This was wrong. She had to get out of here. But it was her tent, damn it. He should go. But where? He was her prisoner. She couldn’t tell him to take a walk. Initially, she had thought to foist him on someone else, but when she had seen Captain Jhadsken licking her lips and eyeing him like a fine meal, that possessive streak had returned. She hadn’t been willing to let anyone else have him, especially someone who might want to do more than guard him.
Zala cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I don’t consider you a friend or family member, Aristalonis.”
“No.” He touched his thumb to her lips, tracing them. “But I would like you to.”
She should have stepped back, not allowing his touch, but her feet wouldn’t move. A thought flashed through her mind, that she might part her lips and take that thumb into her mouth, suck it, taste him. Though even better than his thumb would be the smooth skin of his chest. She looked at it as he traced the lines of her face, as if he wanted to memorize her with his fingers. They were standing close enough that it would be easy to reach out and rest her hand on his chest. She could run her fingers over his muscles, push the jacket aside to reveal his nipples, then bend down, close enough to lick one.
“Why?” she whispered, forcing herself to look away. Perhaps she shouldn’t have, for she only ended up looking into his eyes, eyes that were not that far away from hers now.
“You took me from that miserable life when nobody else came.” His fingers trailed up her jaw, traced her ear, then stroked her hair. She felt a twinge of regret that it was back in a braid, and that he couldn’t run his hands through it. “You protected me from Semptrusis.” He shifted closer to her, his face tilting downward, his lips so close that she could feel the whisper of his breath against hers. “And you are a great warrior. I find that alluring.”
“I’m just a soldier,” she muttered, staring at his lips. She almost added, the same as you. But did she want to compare herself to a dragon? To admit to sharing commonality with her enemy?
He responded with a kiss rather than words. His lips brushed hers, barely touching, but it was enough to stir more heat within her, to make her want to wrap her arms around him. She should do nothing—she knew that. She should back away, put some space between them, get out of the tent. He had some magic over her, over all of the women he encountered, whether that collar diminished his powers or not. This could be part of some ruse, part of a trap. She wasn’t sure how, just then, but she had to believe it could be. Why would a dragon be attracted to a human? Why would he want to help her betray his own kind? Why would he long for a treaty when his people had the upper hand? Surely, mating couldn’t have anything to do with it. What did it matter if she had cut his chain in that pit? They weren’t even part of the same species.
Worthy thoughts to consider, but instead, she inched closer, until their chests touched. His hand slid around her waist, resting on her lower back and drawing her toward him even as his lips grew less hesitant, less uncertain.
Shivers of pleasure streaked through her, and she found herself kissing him back, luxuriating in the taste of the stew on his lips and the taste of him that lingered beneath it all. Whatever he had been born, his scent was masculine and human—wholly appealing as it filled her nostrils. She slid her tongue past his parted lips, wanting to taste more of him, and he paused. Surprised? She realized that he had probably never kissed anyone before, not in the human way. His only experience with sex would be what that awful overseer had done to him. In the aftermath of that, she was surprised he wanted to mate at all. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe this was, as she had already been thinking, all a trick.
She was on the verge of stepping away, no matter how much she enjoyed the press of his muscular chest against her uniform, no matter how much she would like to peel off that uniform until nothing lay between them. But he recovered from his surprise and stroked her tongue with his, as his hands grew bolder. He clasped the back of her neck, kneading her flesh, then scraping his nails across her skin, the sensation making her hot and tight everywhere, making it hard to contemplate pulling away, hard to think of anything except him and his delicious touch.
His other hand pushed under her shirt and jacket, fingers sailing across her back, then gliding up her side until his thumb found the curve of her breast. Her body responded to his touch, flushing with eagerness. It had been so long since she’d had a lover. She found she could no longer stand still, returning only his kiss. As his fingers caressed her, she leaned into him, pressing her palms against his abdomen, pushing his shirt aside to reveal his peaked nipples. She stroked the ridges of muscle, familiarizing herself with every hard inch of him.
He moaned into her mouth, shifting his hips. He might have dressed, but that did not keep her from feeling his cock pressing against her. Dragon or not, he clearly wanted her. He had, she realized with wonder, since they had met. As illogical as it seemed, maybe this wasn’t a trick. Still, she shouldn’t want him, especially now that she knew beyond a doubt he was her enemy, but she couldn’t help herself. She pulled her mouth away from his, smiling when he groaned an inarticulate protest, then bent her head to his chest. She slid her tongue across his nipple, eliciting a different tone of groan, one that went from disappointment to surprise and delight. His fingers dug into her hair, rubbing her scalp as he pushed himself toward her. His breaths came in quick pants, and he rocked his hips toward her.
The taste of him intoxicated her, as did his response to her touch. His eagerness made her feel as if she were some expert lover of the greatest beauty instead of a hardened officer who hadn’t had anyone to love in so very, very long. She slid her tongue across the swell of his pectoral muscle, finding the dip between it and the next, and then sucking on his other nipple. While she tasted him—couldn’t get enough of him—she lowered her hands to his trousers, to the two buttons that he had managed to fasten earlier. She grinned, feeling mischievous at the idea of unbuttoning them when he had worked so hard to figure them out. She reached in and stroked him, and he bucked toward her, gasping.
A twig snapped outside of the tent, and a throat cleared.
Zala reeled away from Talon, scrambling back several steps, believing someone had walked in on them. How in all the hea
vens would she explain this?
As the sound of boots crunching in leaf litter continued, someone walking away, she realized it was one of the men on patrol, nothing more. But what had she been thinking? Tent walls did nothing to muffle sound. Someone might have already heard their groans, might hear the way her breaths came quick and hard as she stared at Talon’s chest, the jacket pushed back, his erect nipples still moist from her lips, the waistband of his trousers hanging from his hips as his cock thrust toward her. The sight of him pulled her like a magnet, and she wanted nothing more than to return to him, to fall to her knees in front of him and take him in her mouth.
But this was wrong. Her senseless attraction wasn’t normal. He wasn’t normal.
“I have a meeting to go to,” she said, her voice almost hoarse as she struggled to rip her gaze from him. Damn, why couldn’t she tamp down her desire? She had never been so horny, even as a teenager.
“Shaylinor,” Talon whispered, frustration thick in his voice as his chin drooped to his chest.
She strode for the tent flap, knowing she had to escape before she lost the willpower to do so. But a surge of guilt came over her, for teasing him and then leaving him with nothing but his hand for satisfaction.
“Zala,” she said.
“What?”
“My name.”
She fled.
Chapter 8
Zala did not have another meeting planned, despite her blurted excuse for leaving, but she did need to talk with Colonel Sandirr. He had been on a number of spy missions. He would know more about the dragons than anyone left in her camp, and he would have an opinion on whether it made sense to take Talon on their infiltration, or if it would be smarter to get him to draw that map, lock him up until she finished the mission, and then, as she had promised, free him.
She couldn’t trust her own instincts in this matter. Clearly. Why did he want to go along? To help dethrone his own king? So he might take the dragon’s spot as leader over all of his kind? He’d said he had no interest in that, but she would be naive to believe everything that came out of his mouth. Hadn’t spies been seducing leaders for information or favors throughout all eternity? Granted, that type of thing never happened to her, but she had seen it happen to male officers and lords before the dragons had shown up and caused all of the humans in Zangorlesh to unite to fight them.
Before Zala went to scrape at Sandirr’s tent flap, she walked to the stream meandering through the center of the camp. She needed a moment to gather herself—and calm her aroused body. By the blushing sun god, what a state she was in. She rubbed her face, sucking in the cool night air, trying to find serenity in the scents of loamy earth and the nearby sea.
Twilight darkened the gorge, the thick canopy hiding the stars—and hiding the camp from dragon eyes. The darkness should hide her flushed cheeks, too, and for that she was glad, because she passed Ramilin, the sergeant on patrol. Had he heard those groans coming from her tent?
He gave her a professional, “Evening, ma’am,” and said nothing more, but she imagined she could feel his curious eyes turning back toward her as she walked past. It shouldn’t matter. Didn’t her male colleagues often take camp followers to their tents? But Talon wasn’t a damned camp follower. He was the enemy and a prisoner.
A prisoner she had left unbound and alone in her tent. There weren’t any secret orders he could rifle through, but there was also nothing to keep him from sneaking out, other than that he was probably busy taming his snake at the moment. She thought of finding a quiet place and using her hand to find a semblance of satisfaction of her own, but no. She had more control than that. She didn’t need to masturbate in the middle of camp. Besides, she would end up thinking of him, and that seemed almost as bad as being in there with him. It was letting him have power over her, and she did not like that.
“What is it with him, anyway?” she grumbled, kicking a rock into the stream.
“With the prisoner, ma’am?” came a woman’s soft voice from the shadows of a trunk on the other side.
Zala frowned, not having sensed anyone nearby. Voices came from the tents twenty meters downstream, but she had thought Ramilin was the only one roaming the perimeter.
“Salena?” she asked, squinting into the gloom.
A rustling sound preceded her lieutenant standing up and stepping out of the tree’s shadow. “Yes, ma’am.” She belted on her sword, looked around, then leaned against a boulder. Casually. Or like someone who wanted to appear casual.
Briefly, Zala thought she might have been out here with some lover, but there did not appear to be anyone else under the tree. She stifled a laugh, wondering if her lieutenant had been out here taking care of the same sort of needs that Zala was trying to forget she had.
“Yes, the prisoner,” Zala said. “I apologize for chastising you in front of him last night.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary, ma’am. I was—I think you’re right in that he’s got some strange allure. I’m not usually... I mean, I wouldn’t normally go up to a man and ask him about his mating habits.”
“No, I know you wouldn’t.” Zala thought that might be more from shyness than a sense of propriety, but she kept the thought to herself. “Jhadsken isn’t usually so forward either. That collar is supposed to cut Talon—the dragon—off from his magic, but it doesn’t keep him from being something other than completely human. It seems odd that we’d be attracted to his... otherness though. I’ve certainly never had fantasies of dragons.”
“No. They do seem majestic and sleek when they’re flying up there, but I’ve never had sexual thoughts either. I’m actually surprised you’re out here rather than...” Salena waved in the direction of her tent.
“We do have a mission to plan,” Zala said, making her tone dry, though her cheeks flushed as she thought of how nearly she had dropped to her knees to pleasure their prisoner—and herself. Madness.
“Yes, of course.” Salena glanced to the tree she had been reclining against. “Do you need my help? I’m sorry I was, uhm, snippy earlier.”
“Were you snippy? I didn’t notice.” Zala had, of course, but she understood.
“A little. It wasn’t right, and I—I want you to know what an honor it is for me to be here with you, ma’am. Learning from you and fighting the dragons. It means everything that you helped me climb Mount Death Edge to get the special ore for my sword.”
“I know. And I’m glad you’re here.” Zala hopped across the stream and clasped her shoulder. “Let’s go talk to Colonel Sandirr, shall we? We may need a man’s opinion regarding our captive.”
“Their opinions might not be completely reliable either. I saw Lieutenant Madikar giving Talon moon eyes.”
“Madikar gives Sandirr moon eyes, too, so that’s not all that surprising.”
“Really? I didn’t realize.”
“I thought that was why you always picked him to go scouting with you, because he doesn’t stare at your chest.”
“No, it’s because I was hoping he would stare at it. We’re the only two lieutenants in the company, and... Never mind. I’m ready to talk to the colonel.”
Zala squeezed her shoulder, then led the way to the tent Sandirr shared with the male officers. They picked their way past other troops, sleeping in blankets underneath the trees instead of bothering with tents. Zala felt a nostalgic longing for her childhood, when she had slept out in the wilds with her brothers. By day, they’d run through the jungles, gathering spiny fruit and hunting wild pigs. Their family had been full of weavers and carpenters who had turned the jungle’s offerings into baskets and furniture. She had thought it terribly boring as a child, but she wouldn’t mind less excitement in her life now. The last time she had been back, her village had been burned, destroyed by war, as so many human settlements had been in the last five years. By dragons. She could not let herself forget what Talon was and what he had done, no matter how pretty a human he made.
“Sandirr,” Zala called, batting at the tent flap. “Y
ou men decent?”
“Rarely,” came her officer’s wry tone. “But nobody’s naked. Meeting?”
“Meeting.” She ducked inside, followed by Salena.
“Are we invited?” Captain Morston asked.
He and Captain Alara had lit a lantern and were playing dice on one cot. They scrambled to their feet and saluted. The stocky Colonel Sandirr, his graying hair in need of a cut, lay on another cot, his arm flung over his face. He saluted from his back. Zala acknowledged them with a flick of her fingers, hardly caring about military courtesy anymore. She and Sandirr had worked together for nearly ten years before he had been transferred over to the intelligence unit. Since then, they had still worked together often. Over the years, they had lost too many comrades to care about formality and meaningless gestures.
“I need advice on dragons,” Zala said.
Alara grimaced. “All I know is how to shoot arrows into them, and not very effectively at that.”
“Guess that means we’re not invited.” Morston pushed himself to his feet and waved for Alara to follow him.
Zala did not stop them. She wanted Sandirr’s opinions, but she didn’t want the rest of the camp seeing her displaying any uncertainty as to what to do with their prisoner. She didn’t want her soldiers to know she had lustful feelings for Talon and didn’t trust her instincts regarding him.
“What do you need, Zala?” Sandirr asked. “I already shared everything I know about their headquarters.”
Yes, during the earlier meeting, he had reminded her that their leaders believed that the working part of the portal the dragons had reached their world through had been taken from Mount Death Edge and was now stored in their Mount Slash headquarters somewhere, in the miles of labyrinthine tunnels curling through the mountain beneath it. If her infiltration team made it in, it was possible they could do more than strike at the dragon king. She did not know if dragons were still coming through that portal, but it made sense to destroy it and ensure that was not a possibility, especially in light of what Talon had said of other colored dragons—stronger dragons—back in his homeland. What if they decided to visit one day too? She shuddered at the thought.
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