Firedrake - By Bianca D'Arc Page 0,21
He tried to be nonchalant, but this was the crux of it and he watched her expression carefully. “When dragons mate, their knights are caught up in the frenzy. It’s the bond, you see. The bond between knight and dragon is very close and what one feels, the other inevitably feels as well. Which is why fighting dragons are not permitted to mate until their knights find a mate of their own.”
“I’ve heard a little bit about this, but I’ll admit I’m curious as to how a three-partnered relationship works.”
Mace breathed just a tiny bit easier. She was curious. That was good.
“It works very well indeed and has for centuries in this land. It’s the dragons that tie it all together, and they claim the Mother of All plays a very large role in bringing the right people and dragons together.” He trailed the grass stalk slowly down her arm as she leaned back just a few feet away. “When the dragons choose their mates, the knights form a fighting partnership as well. The two men train together and fight together, with their dragons, from that point on. They also share their mate.”
“One woman for two knights?”
She didn’t seem shocked, merely intrigued, which lifted Mace’s spirits to a new level. He nodded in answer to her question, trying to hide his growing excitement. “One woman to share the love of two knights who will be devoted to her for the rest of their lives.”
“Does it always work out so well?”
Mace shrugged. “Almost always. There are few unhappy trios in the Lair, and those that do have disagreements always seem to find a way to work it out when the dragon side of the family takes to the sky in a mating flight.” He chuckled, remembering some of the more amusing instances of arguments being settled in just that way.
Mace was teasing her senses. He had a subtle way about him, vastly different from the in-your-face seduction of Drake. It was refreshing, but both men stirred her senses almost beyond bearing. Mace was a deep pool of dark water compared to Drake’s bubbling clear brook, but the more she got to know of Mace, the more she wanted to know. He was intriguing, mysterious and altogether sexy.
He had a warrior’s body and a strategist’s mind. His conversation impressed her, and the attention he paid to her comfort was oddly endearing. Jinn women were protected but seldom coddled. As a woman warrior, it had been a very long time indeed since Krysta had been taken care of with such solicitude. It ought to have annoyed her, but instead it made her feel intensely feminine in a way that was foreign to her.
Perhaps she’d spent too many years fighting and training. She feared she was losing her femininity as the years wore on, but one look from Mace’s admiring gaze and all her fears were put to rest. Add Drake’s rather obvious interest and Krysta was flying high on a wave of feminine confidence the likes of which she hadn’t felt since she was a teen, newly discovering her female power.
Mace surprised her by leaning closer, his mouth hovering near hers. She sensed he was giving her the opportunity to deny him, but she had no intention of doing so. Reaching up, she wrapped one palm around the nape of his neck and drew him closer. Her gaze zeroed in on his firm lips, knowing what she wanted and knowing too that she’d soon have it.
She wanted Mace’s kiss. She wanted to know his flavor and his passion. She wanted him like she’d wanted few men in her life, and now was the moment of discovery. Would he be as good a kisser as she hoped? Would he be as good a kisser as Drake?
Krysta tried to erase that last thought and concentrate on Mace, but it was there, niggling in the back of her mind, even as Mace’s lips descended the final distance to hers. He was warm and firm, and his hot body crowded close as he pulled her into his arms. His lips pressed, then opened, and his tongue rubbed over the seam of her lips before she opened to let him in.
The feeling was incredible. Her hands went to his strong shoulders and drew him closer. All tentativeness was gone as he lowered her to the ground, his chest rubbing seductively over hers, his tongue tangling with hers, his body making hers sing. Mace was all man and all