Page 59 of Ignite the Infernos

Yeah, my fucking scruples, my self-control; I’m pretty sure my underwear combusted sometime between the second and third time he flashed his dragon eyes at me . . . Aeson holds up my shirt and my rambling thoughts skid to a stop.

“Right, that,” I chirp.

I try to take the clothing from him, but he lifts it out of reach. I debate trying to jump for it, but adding a pair of bouncing tits to the thin line we’re dancing on is probably a bad idea.

“Arms up,” he orders.

I glare at him, but comply. Like he suddenly finds himself in no rush to be anywhere else, he slips the top on, pulls it down my arms and over my head, and then drags it purposely over the sensitive peaks of my nipples.

I glower up at him. We both know what he’s doing. We both know it’s not going to lead anywhere, and yet neither one of us says a word or does anything to stop it. The fabric drops down my torso, and I’m off like a shot for the bathroom, ready to yell at my vagina about how to behave while taking the coldest shower in history.

“Thirty minutes, Ever,” Aeson calls to my back, and I swear he’s fighting off a villainous chuckle.

“I’ll be ready in forty,” I quip, adding a little more sway to my hips than necessary as I rush to get away.

I bite back a frustrated growl and shove my hands in my hair and tug at the roots, needing the pressure to help ground my chaotic thoughts and frantic feelings. This bond is going to be the end of me, and they better not put edged to death on my bloody tombstone.

Chapter 27

Ever

RAIN PATTERS AGAINST THE INVISIBLE barrier of the large window as if it’s pelting a pane of glass. Offhandedly, I wonder if the tech is programmed to mimic the sound the same way it’s set to emulate the reflective properties of glass or serve as a one-way viewpoint like now. I step into my boot and it automatically tightens around my ankle and lower calf until it’s snug. I rise from the chaise longue in the infirmary’s dressing room and smooth a few loose strands back into the sleek, low updo my hair has been styled into.

A light knock sounds on the door, and Healer Ramirez’s voice quickly follows. “I’m going to upload your scans, Scioness. I’ll meet you back in the room when I’m done.” She doesn’t wait for an answer before the sound of fading footsteps tells me she’s left.

I’m not surprised—the Healer has been eager to solve my little conundrum from the second I presented it to her. She’s been attentive, straightforward, and surprisingly kind. With her strong features, gray pixie, and warm complexion, she looks like she could be Tove’s distant relative. Only the Healer is hundreds of years older, and decidedly not a stone-cold bitch.

I assess the state of my outfit in the mirror before I give the train one last fluff and exit the dressing room. I selected an ice-blue bodysuit that looked warm and covers me from neck to ankle. It came with a matching wrap made from something fluffy and soft I can’t identify. The wrap layers across my upper chest and then drapes down behind me. The color is a little too happy for the chilly, rainy day, but I’m not freezing my ass off, and that’s all that matters.

My new closet is filled with items I recognize as Nixy’s work, but when I asked about her and Azo, Aeson just stared at me like I had some nerve bringing them up. I tried directing my questions to the human attendant who helped me get dressed for the day, but she whimpered anytime I tried to address her, so I gave up, not wanting to stress the poor thing out any more than she already was.

The last time I saw Azo, he was being escorted from the room right before Karis accused us of sending an “unauthorized transmission”. I don’t know if Nixy and Azo faced any consequences for that, but I’ll have to figure that out on my own, and in a way that doesn’t create any more potential trouble for the duo.

I move quietly through the short corridor that connects the dressing area to the infirmary room we’ve taken over. Clipped voices and low murmurs are wrapped up in a heated discussion, but I can’t make out what’s being said before I round a corner and find Aeson pacing. The chatter comes to a direct halt the second he and his Wing see me, and it’s not hard to guess who the topic of conversation was.

Chastain, Tove, and Herm are absent from today’s adventure, and I survey the others before wandering over to one of the large archways that looks out over the back view of King’s Keep. I don’t bother asking any questions or showing any annoyance over the conversation I’m obviously not privy to. I’ve played this game before with all of them, and it won’t get me anywhere.

Instead, I take in the handful of dragons that are outside playing in the rain. They glide and swoop, undeterred by the occasional flash of lightning or steady roll of thunder.

The peaks that surround the keep are covered in mist and clouds, and the late-fall storm makes it sound as though the mountains themselves are grumbling some kind of ominous warning.

The whispers restart behind me, and I let my thoughts drift to my sister and the others. Are they warm? Are they safe? Have they found any leads? They’re only supposed to be doing recon, but plans feel more like suggestions these days, and I can’t help but worry, especially when the Tainted are involved.

“We were discussing the most recent gathering of the Conclave,” Aeson declares loudly, and I look behind me to see who he’s talking to.

Surprisingly, his blue eyes are homed in on me, but that can’t be right. I spin, trying to spot the person he’s really addressing, but there’s no one else near me. Aeson’s face morphs into an unamused scowl when I point a finger at my chest and raise my eyebrows in question.

“Yes, you,” he declares like it’s obvious. “They’ve petitioned my father for a formal introduction, followed by an informal gathering that will facilitate them getting to know you better. My father has granted it,” Aeson announces, his mouth pressed into a hard line and his thick arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“You knew this was coming, so what’s really got you all hot and bothered?” I wag my eyebrows at him, but he’s not amused by my attempt to lighten the mood.

“In two days, you’ll formally meet the dukes.”

I absorb the flash of anger in his stare and process the tension eddying through Ogdan and the others.

“And . . .” I press, knowing there’s more.

Aeson’s nostrils flare and his jaw tightens. “And you’ll also be introduced to their heirs, along with any other eligible drakes deemed worthy to attend.”