Sei jumps at the touch, and heat prickles up his arm. Not rough, just unexpected. Nobody ever touches him.
“Farewell and thank you!” Sei calls to his drasgard escort.
Again flummoxed by basic courtesy, the drasgard waves awkwardly.
Then Sei forgets everything, even the strangeness of Marek’s hand on his arm, when he faces the dragon.
The immense scaled head swings around far too quickly. Sei yelps to find himself within arm’s reach of the pointed snout. The dragon’s skull is as large as Marek himself.
Hot breath blows Sei’s hair back.
“Sei Mallory, meet Loska.” Marek sounds more amused than anything else. His hand shifts to a more supportive angle behind Sei’s shoulder. “Loska, meet Sei.”
Any polite greeting sticks in Sei’s throat. Loska could snap both of them in half without even blinking. Though perhaps Marek’s bigger bones would stick in his throat.
A cool, rumbling voice slides into Sei’s head.Hello, tiny human. Do you know anything about courtship?
Sei’s mouth drops open. “I beg your pardon?”
“If he does, it’ll be about humans, not dragons.” Marek flicks Loska’s nose, which has no discernible impact. “We’ll strategize your way to Malyra’s heart another time, buddy.”
Very well. I will ponder as we fly.
“Don’t ask,” Marek says, though Sei is still too stunned to ask anything. “You haven’t ridden a dragon before, right?”
Sei shakes his head wordlessly.
Marek pulls Sei towards Loska’s side. “Don’t worry. It’s just like riding a horse, except completely different.”
“I haven’t done that either,” Sei says. Marek must not hear him, though, because Marek’s already clambering up Loska’s harness to strap Sei’s luggage in place.
Watching Marek’s strong, sure hands buckle everything down finally hammers into Sei’s head that he’s going to be strapped down just like that. Those leather straps will be the only things keeping Sei from a very messy death.
Marek descends and holds up a leather-wrapped helmet. “Put this on—never mind, I’ll do it.”
Sei can only stand still as Marek draws near enough to blot out the sun. The scent of leather, musk, and sky surrounds Sei.
Marek first tucks Sei’s hair behind his ears, seemingly unaware of Sei’s heart pounding at the touch. Then Marek settles the helmet over Sei’s head. It’s lightweight and doesn’t fit quite right until Marek pulls some strap on the edge. When the inner lining fits better around Sei’s skull, Marek fastens the buckle beneath Sei’s chin.
His callused hands move so confidently against Sei’s throat. Nobody ever told Marek that he shouldn’t touch a grail that doesn’t belong to him. Sei can’t bring himself to protest. He could dream about those hands if he weren’t so scared.
No. Terror is unseemly. Panic is impolite. Sei counts his breaths, and hopefully manages to stay calm when Marek urges him up the dragon. The climb is easier than Sei expects, but he’s still slower than Marek.
Once he’s up, Marek has Sei sit at the base of Loska’s neck, at the front of the saddle. The dragon’s scales are warm and smooth. Sei braces his palms against Loska’s shoulders, trying not to think how much he feels like another piece of luggage as Marek straps him down.
Except the luggage doesn’t have Marek Dire sliding into place behind it, wrapping around it in an intimate embrace.
“Relax,” Marek says against Sei’s ear, which has the precise opposite effect. “Are you ready?”
Sei doesn’t have a chance to reply before Loska rocks back on his haunches, throwing Sei against Marek’s broad chest. Then they launch skyward.
?
CHAPTER TWO
Marek
Marek braces himself. Not for flight—his body moves instinctively with Loska’s upward surge, bending closer to the dragon’s shoulders to create a more streamlined shape. The trick is to be ready but relaxed. Marek’s body sinks against the straps, most of the weight on his thighs. Air rushes past, stinging every bare bit of skin in a welcome bite.
