how precious their short lives are. They will not bother me. Nor you, as long as you are with me.”
“I didn’t know your scent,” I shoot back. But I remember a mossy smell erupting from the bubbles of the river. Even now, standing so close to him, I smell it faintly on his skin. Breathing it in, I give myself away, leaning a little bit closer, wanting more.
His smile dies but he notices, puffing out his chest. He leans toward me a little as well. “You have a point.” His words come out slow, deeply.
His shaft hits my belly and I’m no longer minding. I press my brow to his chest, inhaling, needing more of him. I want all of him in me. His fingers tangle in my messy hair and force my head back. In the corner of my vision, the wings on his arms straighten outward.
Parting my lips, I hope that he closes the distance and takes them. But all he does is roam his eyes over my face.
“I’ve never been kissed,” I whisper.
“What is a kiss?”
“Lips touching between two people, caressing and rubbing each other. I’ve seen kisses, but I’ve never experienced one.” Kiss me.
His brow furrows. “What is the point of kisses?”
Pushing closer to him, forcing his shaft between our flesh. “To show affection.”
He releases me suddenly and growls, taking his warmth and heady smell with him. “Do not force your weak human ways on me, female. We may be bonded, but I will never be human—never! Let’s go,” he says, pushing past me to take the lead. “Only the most ignorant and weakest of predators can not smell territorial markings,” he mutters intentionally loud enough for me to hear.
I almost forgot he hates me. Part of me wants to yell out that he is human now, and embracing it is the only way to survive. I can help him survive. I grab his arm anyway, stopping him from stalking off. “Wait!”
“What?” he pivots back, fury lining his features.
Pulling off the net I saved last night, I swing my arms around his middle, draping it over his hips and covering his cock. His long black hair tangles within the net but I tug it out. His body goes rigid but he lets me do this. Bunching it in the front, I tie it there, shielding as much as I can. “Good,” I mutter.
Kaos peers down at himself and touches the material. It’s made of threaded seaweed fibers and the longest of grasses that grow around the lagoon of my home.
“I hate it,” he grumbles.
Glowering, I push past him this time, returning to the front. “Consider it a bonding gift. It took me days to make it.”
Kaos doesn’t say another word, thankfully, and we continue on our way.
Hours go by as we follow the river, and even though the femdragon hasn’t made a noise in a while, we don’t stop. Now and then, I hear Kaos curse and stumble. When we have to follow the river closely, we’re up to our shins, he falls completely, soaking himself. Using my stick, I slash through the shallow water, scaring off any serpents that may be lurking. It stops me from laughing as he rises with a scowl.
Serves him right.
The morning comes and goes. I’m watching the way the sun falls through the openings in the canopy above us to tell the time. Eventually, the side of the river turns to steep rocks, and we’re left with the choice of wading through to the other side or going deeper into the jungle where we could follow from above.
Not trusting the crocodiles to be gone, I move us upward. Kaos grabs hold of me again after the first steps, and I’m not sure if it’s for balance or for keeping me close. But the net stays in place, he doesn’t bump his shaft into me again.
The rocks get harder to climb, driving us further and further into the jungle to find purchase, slowing us down to a snail’s pace. It gets to the point that Kaos has to haul me up over the worst ledges as we get closer to the top.
I miss my raft, I can’t help but think when the cliffs level out. With sweat slicking my skin, there’s one last cliff to climb ahead of us.
I know Kaos is feeling the exertion too, and his scent blooms in the air everywhere. It’s doing weird things to me the heavier it gets.
As I watch, standing still from exhaustion, he