My heart beats a little faster. The words we are exchanging are so close to the way Maledinni confess romantic love. Love for our mates is in our bodies and our dragons. We don’t sayI love youto each other. We say a thousand other things.
“Stesha…”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that my heart is not only full because of him, it beats only for him. But I remember he’s an Alpha, and Alphas prefer to be the ones who move things forward. I have to be patient.
How I hate being patient.
When I’m alone with Nilak, I confess my feelings to her instead. “Your rider is the most wonderful man I have met or will ever meet.”
Nilak tilts her head quizzically to one side.
“I think about wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him on the mouth all the time. I dream about his teeth in my flesh. I want to be his.”
She can’t understand me, but she must hear something heartfelt in my words or scent, as she nuzzles my hair, clicking in sympathy.
Day by day, frustration gathers in my body and throbs between my thighs. Thinking about Stesha and looking at Stesha only makes the throbbing worse. When I talk to one of the Temple Mothers about the feeling, without mentioning Stesha by name, she looks surprised by my ignorance.
“This is the first time you’ve noticed this feeling? Has this frustration not driven you toward one of the young men or women of your acquaintance?”
“Well, no…”
“But why not?”
Because the man I want thinks he has to act like my father or my bodyguard, and I think I’m going to scream and burst into flames from sheer frustration.
Noticing my hesitation, Mother Linnea says, “I don’t mean to pry, dear. I just want to be sure that you have no need of deeper counseling. Fear, shame, and pain can be very destructive when it comes to the mating acts.”
“I’m not fearful or ashamed. There is someone, but I feel shy about speaking up to him about my, um, needs.” It would be easier if I knew a little about Stesha and his own needs, but he keeps that strictly private. I don’t have much idea about how the two of us would fit together, physically or emotionally. I only know I want it very badly.
“Shy? That’s unusual for a Beta,” Mother Linnea says.
I feel a prickle of apprehension, because it’s not the first time someone’s made me feel like I’m not living up to my designation. A few of the Alphas I’ve turned down have grown irritated with me and said things like,What else is a Beta good for?and,You’re pretty uptight for your designation. Betas aren’t meant to feel shy or intimidated by Alphas and their sexuality. They’re meant to love it, but I can’t help how I feel.
“The one I want is a little older than me,” I say, turning red.
“I understand. You’re only seventeen, aren’t you? You can seek relief by yourself instead.” The Temple Mother tells me how to use my fingers, which hadn’t occurred to me, and shows me an array of implements that I can try, should my frustration require them.
That night I touch myself experimentally, and the effect is spectacular. My whole body explodes in stars, and I’m left panting on the mattress. I try it again, and then once more, and each time it’s wonderful, but I quickly conclude that it would be better with someone else. Not an implement. I don’t want an implement.
I roll over in bed and sigh, thinking about Stesha. I want to point out to him that soon I’ll be eighteen. I’ll be a full-fledged dragonrider and be given my first solo mission. We never discussed what will happen to me after I gain my rank. Some dragonriders move in with their mates. Others go to the dragonriders’ barracks, or if they are unmated, some stay intheir homes. I live in fear that Stesha will tell me that it’s time for me to leave his home, and so I hold my tongue.
It turns out, I needn’t have worried.
On my eighteenth birthday, he presents me with a pair of beautiful black leather riding gloves and says not one word about me living anywhere but with him.
I stare at his mouth, wishing I were brave enough to ask for a birthday kiss.
10
Zenevieve
“And you say that the storm is moving toward the southeast?” Zabriel asks and then nods approvingly at me. “Good work, Zenevieve. I’ll let the other dragonriders know.”
“Thank you, Prince Zabriel,” I say, fighting my smile. I’m trying not to ruin the formal way we’re speaking to each other.
Minta and I have just completed our first independent mission as a full-fledged dragon and rider pair. My black and emerald green dragon is fast and sharp-eyed, so we’re useful as storm scouts. Our job is to warn other riders about dangerous storms and other anomalies around Maledin. Riders and dragons have perished from being caught in electrical storms. We’ve been told to be on the lookout for wild dragons as well, which is a useful thing with a dragon like Golden Terror ruling the skies to the east.
Reporting to Zabriel feels strange when it seems like only yesterday he was teasing me about being the dragonmaster’spet. Zabriel has been second-in-command of the dragon army ever since he turned eighteen two years ago. His father, King Aylard, doesn’t ride and is rarely at the dragongrounds, so the dragonriders report to him. I’m happy about that because I don’t like how cruel and unpredictable King Aylard can be, and I’m glad I rarely see him.
