To Love a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,21

but that could not block out the memory of the blade sinking into her father’s chest. “I turned away and kept running, uncertain of whether the Bone Wraiths had seen us, uncertain of whether they were giving chase. So, I kept moving, stopping only when I had to tend Serek, only when I could walk no farther. We traveled for three days before…before you.”

Arysteon made a gentle hum—a thoughtful, soothing sound—prompting Leyloni to open her eyes.

He was studying her with that ancient gaze, which flicked briefly to Serek before returning to her. “Rest, Leyloni, while it is still dark. Use your time here to let your body recover. I will venture out to find something more filling to eat. Humans eat meat, do you not?”

Her eyes flared in surprise, and her stomach cramped at the thought of a real meal. “You would do that? For us?”

“Gladly.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Leyloni released her legs and leaned toward Arysteon, reaching out to settle her hand upon his snout.

Her breath hitched, and she stopped herself an instant before she could touch him.

Arysteon did not move save to dip his eyes toward her hand and exhale through his nostrils. His breath was warm against her arm.

Leyloni yanked her hand back.

“You are welcome, Leyloni,” Arysteon said softly. “Rest, and fear not the forest’s other beasts while I am away. My scent will keep them at bay. I will return as soon as I am able.”

Whatever thoughts must have been racing behind those draconic eyes were masked to her; he showed no sign of alarm, no sign of anger, only that same understanding with which he’d behaved since he’d rescued them from the treestalker. But there was just a hint of sorrow in his voice—a hint of disappointment.

Was he upset that he’d trusted her only to have that trust nearly broken, or…

Or had he wanted her to touch him?

She didn’t know how to ask him those questions. All she could do was watch as he lifted his head, pushed himself up on his legs, and turned away, the reflected light on his scales fading as he exited the cavern and vanished into the darkness.

Leyloni slipped under the blanket, laid down, and brushed a fingertip across Serek’s cheek. She closed her eyes but remained awake long after Arysteon had left. It wasn’t for fear that they’d be attacked—she trusted his word about his scent protecting them—and she was not thinking about the food that Arysteon might bring back. Her thoughts were on the dragon himself.

What if she had touched him?

That question swirled through her mind ceaselessly, spawning even more questions. Were the stories true? Would he have changed? Would she have tied him to her forever?

What would Arysteon look like as a man?

No matter how hard she tried, she could not envision him as a human—nothing except for his eyes. Those beautiful, glowing, violet eyes, which so often looked upon her with longing and lust.

Unbidden, heat flared within her core, and a sudden ache bloomed between her thighs. Leyloni’s eyes opened wide in the darkness, and she clutched the blanket in her fist as she realized what was happening.

I am lusting for a dragon.

6

The predawn forest was cast in deep shadows that made it seem dark even to Arysteon’s keen eyes. These woods were always alive with sound—the songs of birds and insects, calls from all manner of beasts, the sighing of wind through the boughs and the gentle rustling of foliage. But today, the patter of raindrops on wood, leaf, earth, and stone reigned over all else, just as it had since the storm had begun two days before. The rain’s drumming was somehow steady and erratic at once, a droning broken by frequent bursts and lulls in speed.

The sound of rain falling on Arysteon’s scales was perhaps the most unique of all. He felt it more than he heard it, the sensation heightened by the faintest charges of lightning in each drop.

She nearly touched me.

That thought repeated over and over as Arysteon stalked between the trees. Each time it echoed, the scales of his snout tingled. Leyloni’s hand had been so close—close enough that he’d felt the warmth radiating from her skin. The slightest movement would have closed that infinitesimal distance between them, and he would have felt her for the first time, scale-to-skin.

Focus. I must focus on the hunt.

Arysteon raised his head spines. The smallest of them, which were the farthest forward, were particularly sensitive to the storm’s electric charge—and they also best