She nods. “Yes, thank you, dragonmaster.”
Anger lashes through me. People are always dropping the proper form of address when they talk to me. I lean down and growl in her face, “That’sthank you, Alpha.”
Zenevieve’s eyes widen in surprise, her face just an inch from mine. I feel as surprised as she looks. What am I saying? Zenevieve did use the proper form of address. She called me dragonmaster.
I straighten up and gaze over her head, pretending with my hardest frown that I didn’t just order her to call me Alpha, which is how Omegas address their mates. Sometimes Betas will as well, but either way, it’s only something lovers do, and often while they’re mating. Betas cry it loudly through the walls of the ruthouse I visit.
I hear those words in Zenevieve’s sweet, husky voice.Thank you, Alpha. And then in a needy, breathless whimper,Please, Alpha. Breathless because of what I’m doing to her. How I’m touching her. Gripping her tightly by the hair while she—
My dream surges back, only this time I see very clearly the silky black hair in my fist, and jewel-like green eyes pleading with me.
What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s your seventeen-year-old ward.
Zenevieve is watching me with parted lips. There’s a captivated expression in her suddenly darkened eyes as she stares at my mouth. “If you want me to call you Alpha…”
Before she can finish that thought, I urgently call to Nilak,Where are you?along with a request for her to scream her presence as loud as she can. On the far side of the flare, my Alpha dragon shrieks, drowning out the rest of what Zenevieve is saying.
“I have to go. Nilak needs me.” I stride away, my blood roaring in my ears, wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
That afternoon, the first snow of winter falls. A few flakes at first, and then it really gets going, and covers Lenhale with a fragile white veneer.
When I arrive home a few hours later, our rooms are empty, but Zenevieve’s scent covers my bedclothes, sweet and familiar. I gaze at the snow falling outside. It’s been more than a year since she woke up crying from nightmares. She’s nearly a grown-up dragonrider, and in the spring she’ll receive her first solo mission. Am I doing any of this right? If her father appeared before me now, would he tell me he’s pleased with the way I’m raising Zenevieve, or would he point out all the mistakes I’m making?
He wouldn’t want me growling,That’s thank you, Alpha, at her, that’s for sure.
I should probably tell Zenevieve to stop sleeping in my bed when I’m not there and stop scenting blankets for her, but really, what’s wrong with a little comfort? This is something simple I can do for her. As I crawl into bed, bury my face in the pillow that she’s slept on, and breathe her scent in deeply, it occurs to me that my reasons might not be as selfless as I like to pretend.
9
Zenevieve
As the snow falls on Maledin during my seventeenth year, my feelings for Stesha only grow stronger. I’m around normal men for a while, and they’re nice. Some of them even seem good-looking, kind, selfless, and strong. Then I see Stesha with hatchlings in his strong arms, or coaching a dragonrider to bond more closely with their dragon, and everyone else just…
Fades away.
That winter, every time I catch sight of Stesha, it’s like I’m seeing him for the very first time. I’ve always liked that he keeps other men away from me, but now I preen like a young dragon after her first flight whenever I catch him scowling at an Alpha or Beta who’s following me around. I press my body into his when he carries me up onto Nilak, and I can feel something thrumming between us that was never there before. His touches on the nape of my neck and the kisses he drops on my brow make me glow golden right down to my toes.
He must feel this too. These feelings are too strong to be all my own. They’re in the very air around us.
It’s a wickedly cold season this year, and the whole of Lenhale turns white. I wear black riding clothes and a heavy green cloak to keep warm, but I’m always chafing my fingers together.
“It’s cold enough to put out the flaming font in the temple,” I complain one day after a group flight, my teeth chattering.
Stesha takes off his gloves and mine to warm my hands between his large ones. He runs his eyes over me and smiles. “You have snowflakes in your hair.”
His long ponytail is flowing over his shoulder, and it’s flecked with white crystals. I smile up at him. “So do you.”
In stately fashion, Nilak paces over to us and spreads one of her wings over our heads to shelter us from the falling snow. Minta trills, and she ducks under Nilak’s wing as well. Well, her head and some of her neck, as much of her as will fit. I laugh as she nestles into Nilak’s protection with us. If she were any other dragon, she’d receive a nip from Nilak’s sharp teeth and a warning to stay back, but Minta is special.
Stesha must be thinking the same thing. “Do you know how happy it makes me that Nilak loves you both?”
“And I love her. Every day when I wake up, I look for Minta and Nilak among the flare. Have you noticed how often they’re together? One black dragon and one white.”
“Yes, I have.” Still gently rubbing my now warm fingers, he says, “It means everything to me that the four of us are close.”
“My heart is very full because of you,” I tell him.
He smiles and squeezes my fingers. “So is mine.”
