To Tame a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,20

chest rumbled, and his hands flexed, holding her infinitesimally closer.

Despite her fear, despite her stomach wishing to revolt with every unsteady drop, Elliya smiled.

He came back for me.

7

Falthyris clenched his jaw and stretched his wings, straining the new muscles that controlled them. He wobbled, struggling to keep his flight smooth, and the human tightened her hold on his neck. This whole situation was demeaning in more ways than he cared to reflect upon—and it certainly didn’t help that the Red Heat had blended with his heartfire again, that his cock was aching for the feel of her warm, wet human slit, that his anger was in danger of being overwhelmed by his hunger.

He glided directly into the entry of his lair, a feat he would not been able to accomplish in his true form. He’d not made it far inside when he lost the air current and dropped, his mane flipping into his face and obstructing his view.

His feet hit the cave floor hard, and he stumbled forward a few steps before claiming his balance and standing up straight. The female leapt out of his hold.

Falthyris growled and snapped his head back, tossing his mane out of his face. What purpose did it serve other than getting into one’s mouth and eyes? It was almost as irritating as this human.

His female, appearing paler than before, retreated and dropped to her knees, bowing forward to lay her hands flat on the ground. Her shoulders heaved with her ragged breaths.

“What are you doing, mortal?” he asked.

“Fighting back the sickness,” she said.

His heartfire swelled in alarm, and he took a step toward her before forcing himself to stop. Had he not wasted enough concern on this human? Had he not done enough for her already despite what she’d done to him? And yet he could not prevent himself from asking, “What sickness?”

“From flying.” She let out a long, shaky breath. “I think you would do best to remain upon the ground.”

“And what do you mean by that?” he growled through bared teeth.

The female lifted her head, brows furrowing as she met his gaze. “I have seen birds of all sorts in flight, and you have none of their grace.”

“Because the human form is incapable of grace.” He glared at her, but it did not have the intended effect—she did not turn away in fear, she did not tremble or scream, she did not so much as flinch. And his damned Heat-hazed mind seized the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of her face.

She moves with grace.

Falthyris snarled at that thought and stalked past the human, giving her his back as he made his way deeper into his lair. A soft scraping sound, followed by the gentle padding of bare feet over the gritty floor, told him that she was following.

“Humans are plenty capable of grace,” she said.

The image of her naked body flashed in his mind’s eye, nearly provoking another growl from his chest. Oh, there was grace in her form, but that didn’t mean he had to acknowledge it. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

And he hated the fact that a growing part of him did like it.

“You are also capable of getting yourself killed by vermin,” he replied. “Should I be impressed?”

She growled. Growled. The sound of it went straight to his cock, making it pulse strongly enough that his steps nearly faltered. Seed seeped from its tip, and it took everything within him to keep himself from wrapping his hand around it to alleviate the ache—or from turning around, pinning his female to the ground, and thrusting into her tight, hot depths.

My female. My female.

No. She is just a human, a weak, short-lived creature of no importance.

“I am a huntress. I have slain many beasts and provided for my tribe,” she said.

The pride in her voice, the confidence and strength, affected him nearly as much as her growl had. A huntress. A warrior. The sort of mate he could only have hoped for.

No! I do not accept this. I do not accept her.

The mating bond wound itself around his heartfire anew, squeezing as though to remind him that he had no choice in it—his acceptance did not change the situation. He could hate her with fire and fury to rival the sun, but he would remain bound to her. And he was now just as mortal as she was.

Falthyris forced himself to keep walking. He would not look back at her. He would not succumb to his infuriating, irrational,