Flight of Dragons

by Elianne Adams, Sadie Haller, Zoe York, Shelley Munro, Zara Keane, LC Alleyne, Skye Jones, Evanne Lorraine, Ann Gimpel

  His gaze followed her, hot and interested, as she stretched it out on a smooth stretch of ground near the fire. But when she cocked an eyebrow and gestured in invitation, he shook his head.

  She forced back the sour disappointment. The man didn’t owe her cuddles.

  “I’ve never wanted to share my bike with anyone. I brought it here for reasons…” He shook his head again, and this time she realized he wasn’t saying no. He was arguing with himself.

  “Tell me,” she whispered, settling on the blanket. She’d give him all the space he needed to sort out his thoughts. She could be good.

  He groaned and looked at her sideways. “Talking is the last thing on my mind right now.”

  No, she couldn’t be good. This was torture of the highest order. “Then why are you all the way over there?”

  ***

  Bjorn hung his head. It was a fair question and they’d danced around it long enough. “I’ve made vows, Britt.”

  “I’m not the one who keeps circling back to you breaking them.”

  His heart cracked, because she was right. This was all on him. But she was all he could think about.

  “I’m not going to be your conscience here. If you want me tonight, you can have me.” She licked her lips and let her gaze fall down his body. “Are you allowed to touch yourself?”

  His cock throbbed. It wasn’t his own touch that he wanted. But while she might not be interested in being his morality police, she was still a good person who was sympathetic to his conflicted feelings.

  Or maybe she just didn’t want to be a target for the guilt he would surely feel in the morning.

  “It’s not a question of permission…” How to explain the choices he made every day in order to live closer to God and understand what He wanted for Bjorn?

  She looked at him with far-too-knowing eyes. “So you do. Yes?”

  Heat swirled through his body, lighting parts of him that had been long locked-down on fire. “I do.”

  She grinned, but it wasn’t wicked. Or if it was, he was too lost to see it as such. Beauty, special and sacred and just for him, radiated off her as she dropped her gaze to where his cock ached inside his pants. “Tell me more, Bjorn.”

  “I…” He exhaled roughly. “I think of it like exercise, I suppose.”

  Her eyes flared wide and bright, silent laughter practically vibrating through the air between them. “Oh?”

  “I know what that sounds like…” He flushed.

  Her lips softened into a surprisingly understanding smile. “It sounds functional.”

  “Yes.” He balled his hands into fists at his side. Functional release had been all he’d needed for years. Now he burned with lust, and as surely as he knew it was a desperate, distracting vice, he couldn’t pull himself away from her.

  But he wouldn’t touch himself, either.

  “Have you ever lain with a woman?”

  He couldn’t help but smile at her careful question. “Yes. Not since joining the order, of course.”

  “Do you think of them when you stroke yourself?”

  “No.” It was the truth. That crossed a line. But he owed her another truth as well. “I have thought of you, though.”

  Her lips parted and her brows drew together in confusion. “We’ve just only just met.”

  And that was the rub of it. “I know.”

  “Bjorn…”

  “You don’t think it’s possible to know someone before meeting them? To be given a sign of their meaning to you?”

  “By God?” The flames flickered, casting shadows across her face.

  “Yes.”

  “Does God give monks a heads-up that a woman is about to storm into their lives?”

  That was the question of the day. Bjorn swallowed hard.

  “I should warn you I don’t think I believe in fated mates.” She gave him a careful look, then pushed herself up, turning onto all fours. The curve of her spine and the flare of her bottom made his mouth dry even though she’d tried to warn him away. She grabbed another log and carefully added it to the fire.

  He rolled over what she’d just said. “I don’t believe in the lore, either.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I didn’t say that. I believe in the gods. But I also believe they are cruel, and take away as much as they give us.”

  “Somethings aren’t meant to be had forever.”

  “Would you like to have me for tonight?”

  “I couldn’t do just one night,” he croaked out, his body hating him but his heart sure of the answer. He took a deep breath and shoved to his feet. He paced further into the cave, his steps echoing in the silence that hung heavy after that admission.

  “I shouldn’t have sad anything,” she finally said quietly. He was a good twenty feet into the damp darkness, and her voice tugged at him, calling him back to the fire at the entrance.

  He turned his head just enough to send his voice back toward her. “Or maybe you should say more.”

  A pause, then she cleared her throat. “Like what?”

  “If I wanted you for more than a night, could I have you?”

  “You’re a monk. That’s hardly allowed.”

  “And if I weren’t?”

  “I don’t want to be the reason—”

  He cut her off, and repeated the question, harder and faster this time, the words ripping harshly from him. “And if I weren’t?”

  Her hesitation cut worse than a knife.

  But when she spoke, her answer was worth a thousand cuts. “Then I’d be yours forever.”

  6

  Britt caught her bottom lip between her teeth as Bjorn paced closer. His large, capable hand covered himself in a crude but effective gesture.

  Show me, she wanted to pant, but as with their kiss, she really thought it better if she didn’t say anything. No breathing, no pleading, nothing to disrupt her mercurial monk from this tenuous path he’d set himself on.

  “Forever is a long time,” he rasped.

  She knew it. At the risk of being a buzzkill, he deserved to know how un-lightly she made that promise. “I know exactly how long forever is, and what kind of damage that promise can inflict if tossed around without intent.”

  “Who hurt you?” His voice rubbed against her skin, demanding entrance to her soul. It was his to take.

  “Who hasn’t?” She reached out her hand, wanting to tug him down to the blanket with her, but then she had a better idea. She dropped her hand, echoing his own touch as she cupped her aching sex through her trousers. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”

  “Touch yourself, min kæreste.” He loosened his belt, dropping it to the ground.

  Heat flooded every cell in her body as she lay back and wiggled out of her pants. His breath was already ragged and although his hand didn’t move, she could see in the shadows beneath his shirt that he had himself in a firm, rough hold.

  Slowly, wantonly, she opened her legs for him. Could he see how wet she was? How much she wanted his fingers to be spreading that slick moisture around her folds and up to her clit?

  “You’re beautiful.” He groaned as he dropped to his knees beside her. “I can’t just watch.”

  They couldn’t couple. As much as she wanted him to fuck her senseless and claim her in every possible way, that step needed to wait until he was free from his vow of chastity.

  “Lie with me like this,” she whispered, tugging him down. It might be an artificial distinction, but they’d already kissed. They could do that again, and touch themselves, and it would have to be enough.

  It took some jockeying of arms and bodies and mouths, but soon they were lying face to face. Bjorn shook as he kissed her face, raining butterfly kisses on her eyelids, cheeks, lips, and even the tip of her nose. Each brush of his mouth against her skin wound her tighter and made her rock her hips faster against her hand. The bump of her wrist against his—and the proximity to his erection that the touch promised—sent her fever spiralling out of contro
l as well.

  She was lost in a pre-orgasmic haze, her senses both clouded and heightened at the same time.

  Storm? What storm? All she could hear raging around them were their private, filthy needs. All she could smell was the heady, musky scent of her monk. Her ears only heard the grunts and groans as he fisted his cock. And when she opened her mouth, hungry for another taste of his lips, he gave her enough of a taste to last a lifetime.

  He swallowed her first orgasm, then whispered for her to give him another. The command alone achieved just that. When her legs were still twitching and her brain blanked from the back-to-back climaxes, he rolled her onto her back and kissed his way down her body.

  Ignoring her pitifully weak protests, he kissed her swollen sex, licking her from her clit to her pulsing opening and back again.

  “Come for me again. I want to taste you. Come on my tongue,” he growled, and she was lost all over again.

  He stroked her hips and thighs, leisurely taking his time to move back up her body.

  “Your turn,” she whispered. He stiffened as she touched his chest, and she pressed closer. “However you want.”

  “Just like this,” he said quietly, his lips rubbing against hers. “Between us.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and he jerked himself slowly against her belly. Each rub of the tip of his erection was stickier than the previous touch, and despite three climaxes of her own, she found herself growing wet yet again.

  His seed was on her skin.

  He was going to spill his release all over her.

  She held him tighter still. She never wanted to let him go.

  Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyelids. It might not be up to her. He’d said forever. She’d said forever.

  She needed to trust him. Trust their connection.

  With a rumbling growl, he stiffened in her arms. Hot splashes of come marked her skin, then his mouth descended on hers, marking her heart just as clearly.

  Mine.

  They cleaned each other with a corner of the blanket, then he helped her slide back into her pants without getting up.

  As she drifted to sleep in his arms, his lips rubbing against her temple as he quietly whispered his thanks and words of affection, over and over again, she let herself forget about the inevitable conflict that lay at the base of the mountain.

  They’d have to face that eventually. But as long as the storm raged, none of that mattered.

  7

  The storm didn’t break until the middle of the night, and they could have stayed until morning. But when Bjorn heard the dragons return, alerted by the quiet shake of the rock beneath them as the beasts settled on the outcrop at the cave’s mouth, he pressed a kiss to the back of Britt’s neck.

  “Wake up, min kæreste.”

  “Mmmm.” She rolled back against him, the sweet swell of her ass stirring his erection.

  If that wasn’t a reminder that they needed to return to the monastery immediately, nothing would be. He needed to speak to Brother Randolf.

  He needed to be free to claim Britt as his mate.

  “It’s time to head back.”

  She stiffened against him, then rolled onto her stomach. He resisted the overwhelming urge to smooth his palm over that bottom that had felt so good rubbing against his cock, and now looked so good curving into the air. That was a good call, because the ice in her voice as she blinked out into the darkness made it clear she wasn’t interested in anything sweet or hot happening at the moment. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “We’ll be safe on the dragons.”

  “That’s not my concern.”

  “Then what is it?”

  She jumped to her feet, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she found her footing. “Why now?”

  “If we get back before breakfast prayers—”

  She held up her hand. “Stop. Okay. Fine. You want to go back, we’ll go back.”

  “Britt—”

  “No. I said I wouldn’t be your undoing and I meant it.” She gestured with disinterest at the blanket and his satchel of food. An ache settled into his chest at the memory of their decision the night before to keep some food for breakfast if need be. “You’ll pack up? I need to go wash my face.”

  He watched with concern as she disappeared around the opening of the cave. They’d set a bowl out to capture rain water for this very purpose, and she was as sure-footed as a donkey—although infinitely prettier—and his worry was misplaced.

  Or just projected.

  He’d said the wrong thing. When she came back into the cave, he’d apologize and start over again.

  She didn’t give him that chance. The next thing he heard was a surprised huff from one of the dragons, then a squeal and a flap of wings.

  The minx had taken off on him.

  Quickly shoving everything into a rough bundle, he ran after her. His own dragon, still saddled up from the day before, something he’d need to apologize to her for profusely when they landed, dipped her head and accepted him on her back without any fanfare.

  “Quickly,” he urged. “Follow them.”

  This time, it was Bjorn that won the race. He let his dragon fly completely unreined the entire way, and it was like she knew what it was to chase a pissed-off mate.

  Technically Britt landed first, but he’d more than made up the lead she had. And she’d barely started her careful wipe down of her dragon when he landed.

  He did the same, knowing two things: one, his dragon deserved that respect; and two, if he didn’t do it properly, Britt would drop-kick him off the nearest cliff.

  That would run counter to trying to talk to her again; counter to making her love him the way he loved her.

  But that wasn’t the only reason he hung back.

  After the last two days, now was the moment that God chose to communicate with him.

  Not through words. Bjorn would never be that lucky—probably because he yearned for it so strongly. God would teach him humility one of these days.

  But in the bright light of the second moon, still high in the sky, Bjorn was struck dumb at the sight of Britt quietly having a full-on conversation with her dragon.

  From what he could pick up as her gentle, low voice rippled through the air, she was mighty grumpy about men.

  The male dragon seemed to be taking it in stride.

  It wasn’t until she turned to the topic of the next day’s flight plans that he trusted himself to interrupt. And when he did, he wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” Her voice dripped with fatigue.

  “You speak to him like…”

  She whipped her head around, her long blond waves flying in all directions in the moonlight. “Like what?”

  The razor blades in her voice sliced into his skin, and he hated that, so he backed down. “I don’t know.”

  “No, you do.” She could see so much of him. More than he knew of himself, that was for damn sure. “What bothers you most, Father? That I believe this dragon is a sentient being, worthy of hearing my secrets, or that I confess my sins to someone other than your God?”

  “Neither,” he said coarsely, and that was the blessed truth. “I know they’re special.” He closed his eyes and shook his head before blinking up at the great beast above him. “I know you are special. The most special.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” Her voice had softened to the sweetest of silk, a seductive rub. She was truly special. All due respect to the gentle giants that he shared a mountain with, but Britt was the most captivating person he’d ever met.

  “Your faith is so much stronger than mine,” he finally rasped out. “And you don’t even know it.”

  “I do. In my own way. I believe what I believe, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Unquestioningly?”

  She laughed. “No. Quite the opposite. I question everything.”

  “You don’t seem ridden with doubt.”

  “Are
you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then your questions aren’t sharp enough, Bjorn. Dig deeper, and the doubt will fade away as the truth makes itself known.”

  “Just like that.”

  “What is the ancient prayer? Forgive me Father, for I have sinned?”

  “That prayer refers to our Heavenly Father, not a priest or a fellow monk. And I do ask God for forgiveness every night.”

  “What does he say?”

  Nothing. Bjorn felt Him all the time, but God never spoke to him. It was the real reason he’d never considered entering seminary, content to serve as a witness of Christ through personal vows and not to a congregation.

  He wasn’t sure he could shepherd anyone else when dealing with his own demons proved a constant battle.

  “What do you need forgiveness for tonight, Bjorn?”

  “Forgetting my way.”

  She moved closer, her cloak quietly thudding to the ground as she discarded it. His breath caught in his throat as she stopped a foot away from him and held out her hand. “Does this feel like straying?”

  No. He wordlessly shook his head.

  “Then go and see whoever you must see to settle the worry in your heart. And then come back to me, and see if maybe we can’t ask some questions together.”

  “My way…”

  She waited, blinking up at him.

  “It was to you. That’s what I mean. I will make you my wife, Britt.”

  “I already am.” She smiled. “Right now to being frustrated and exasperated with you.”

  “I may be out of practice, but I believe the standard response for dealing with such infractions is grovelling and significant making up, yes?”

  “If by making up you mean kissing me, then yes. You must do that.”

  He couldn’t agree more. Threading his fingers into her hair, he lowered his mouth to hers. She tasted like hope and fear, and he knew without a doubt that she was his future.

  “I love you, min kæreste. With all of my heart.”

  She smiled against his lips. “Then come to my bed tonight, and I will love you right back.”

  “From tonight, and for the rest of our lives, it will be our bed.”