In my worlds, I learned to control my magic. I could hide my ears, look like a human. When I was young, my feelings would interfere. My ears would change, their sharp points emerging, whenever I lost myself in my emotions. By the time I entered Midgard, I had full control over my body. I never changed unless I wanted to.
Here, I can’t fully harness that restraint. It’s how they knew I was an elf when I landed in Vanatia. My fear revealed me, and I couldn’t do shit about it. Since then, I’ve mastered the rest. My magic answers to me now in everything except this. This one thing refuses to be bound. Just like every reliable prick, my ears pop out, pointy and erect, when I get too aroused. When I lose myself to my body’s demands. I’ve masturbated enough to know. There’s no hiding who I am from a man who really excites me.
Which is why Fhord and I can never, ever be together.
I just wish he wasn’t so gods-damned beautiful. And sexy.
So fucking sexy.
I throw my pillow over my head as I stop fighting my magic and will myself to relax.
I desperately need my own tent.
He let me sleep in, I realize as my eyes pop open in the morning. The sun is peeking through the door, and I can smell something cooking outside. I’m hungry. Really hungry.
I dress quickly and step out of the tent. His back is turned and he doesn’t sense me so I can watch him for a few seconds. He really is perfect. His broad shoulders lead down to a tight ass, then splay out just a bit to stretch into long legs. Short sleeves display the tattoos on his arms, and I inspect them. As I’d realized last night, they celebrate his injuries, as if he adds a tattoo with each mark to hold them in his memory.
He finally senses me and spins his head. But he doesn’t smile. He’s rebuilt the walls that disappeared with my nightmare. Instead, he nods, his eyes flat, and turns again to look at the meal he’s cooking. Only then does he speak.
“We need a hot meal. Rabbit. It’ll be done soon.”
“Thank you. I’m starving.”
He lifts his head to look in the direction of the nearby stream. “You have time to clean yourself before we eat.”
“I’ll do that.” I duck back into the tent to grab my things and head over. It feels good to wash off some of the grime of the trip along with the sweat that covered me when I woke up screaming.
I dig into the rabbit when he sets a plate on the rock next to me. I haven’t felt this hungry in a long time.
“We need to be alert today,” Fhord tells me in between bites. “We’ll be passing through a dangerous place. The Kastali has little authority over the rebels here.”
“I didn’t realize there was such a place. Why would the Kastali have trouble controlling these lands?”
He watches me for a moment in silence. “The Kastali is punishing the Meistari and Meistara who control this region,” he explains. “The Nest has abandoned this territory for twelve moons. If the Kastali is satisfied with the penance offered, they may restore protection.”
“We do need to be careful,” I agree. Despite the sloth of many, dragon riders are key to keeping this land safe. I can’t imagine life without them. I guess I’ll soon find out.
We finish eating and pack quickly. With Fhord’s warning, I’m as anxious as him to get through today.
The morning is calm and bright, and I like the ride more than I should. Mainly because I’m following Fhord, and he is magnificent.
I hadn’t let myself look at him—really look—before last night. And maybe I shouldn’t now. I can’t be with him, but I can appreciate him. I can enjoy watching him. The dark, short but wavy hair, a hint of auburn catching the morning rays. The wide shoulders that turn into thick arms, covered with tales of his battles. The strong lines of his back, leading down to his firm ass.
Fuck me. Not literally. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
As the sun is reaching today’s zenith, Fhord turns. One side of his mouth lifts up when he sees me watching him. “We’ll stop here for lunch.”
Heat fills my cheeks. I need to keep my gaze away. I cannot let this annoying man know I’m attracted to him.
We’re eating another cold meal of jerky with fruit and nuts when we hear their voices. Fhord notices first, sitting up straight as he brings a finger to his lips. His head spins slowly while he searches for their source. When he turns to me, worry brightens his eyes.
Standing, we scoop our things into our bags as quickly and quietly as we can. Within a minute, we’re untying the horses and drawing them slowly to a nearby bramble, thick enough to hide all of us as they pass by.
We barely make it. Just as Hilde’s rear slips behind the bushes, they appear. More than two dozen of them. They’re not soldiers. These males are rough, crude, and loud. It’s no wonder Fhord heard them from as far away as he did. They’re laughing and bellowing at each other, rehashing some fight from the night before. I let myself relax a bit as they move past us.
But then one of the men looks up to see the clearing. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat here.”
“We’ve a long way to go today,” another responds. “Let’s go another viku before we stop.”
