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I glared at him, wondering how far he’d push me before I snapped and cursed him with a bout of flatulence. “Fine.” I dug through my bag, apologizing to Demon as he scuffled toward the back, his nose furiously twitching.
What are you doing?
I pulled out two small burlap sacks, setting them on a slab of rock beside me. “Making a potion.”
He hovered over me, his long neck swaying like a snake about to strike.Will it wake him?
“Hopefully. Or maybe it will kill him,” I added wryly.
He gave me a long look, steam pouring from his snout.Don’t play with me, girl.
I poured herbs from each sack onto the stone, grinding them into dust with my pestle. “You know,” I said without looking up, his smoke fogging my vision, “it’s kind of hard to concentrate with a big, ugly dragon breathing down my neck.”
Insolent witch.
“Pushy dragon.”
He sat back on his haunches, eyes narrowing.Hurry up with that potion.
I stopped, letting out a string of curses. “I’ve got two speeds. If you don’t like this one, you sure as hell won’t like the next one.” It was a stupid cliché, something Thorin always said. The thought of him made my heart ache all over again, so I did my best to push him from my mind while grinding the herbs to dust.
The dragon finally shut his big maw as I finished mixing the herbs and poured them into a shallow clay bowl and swirled them with water from a flask. I realized too late I should’ve ground the herbs in the bowl instead of on the stone, but this infuriating dragon had my head all muddled. The concoction was thick and soupy and smelled like vomit, but I only needed to get a few drops into the Fae’s mouth.
What is that?Radnor asked as I rolled the Fae back onto his back and lifted his head, his hair falling through my fingers like streams of silk.
“It’s a stimulant, cacao and cava. It should wake him.” I dipped my finger into the bowl and then opened his mouth, wiping the herbs on his tongue while wondering if he’d ever used it to pleasure a woman. Heat flamed my face at the thought. I had to get my lust under control. After I set the bowl on the slab, fatigue hit me like a punch to the gut. I was too tired to clean out the bowl. When the handsome Fae rolled back over with a sigh, I wiped the green goo from the corner of his mouth, my fingers perhaps lingering on the crease of his full lips overly long.
Now what?
My gaze shot to Radnor, who was eyeing me intently, the slightest of smirks tugging on his mouth. No doubt he’d caught me gawking. He probably imagined me a lovesick fool. Oh well, I’d be rid of him and his rider soon enough. “Now we wait.”
How long?
The impatience in his tone was nearly enough to make me scream, but I didn’t want to give the beast the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled me. “A few minutes. A few hours.” I shrugged. “It depends on the patient.”
His rumble shook the ground beneath me.I’m growing ever impatient with you, witch.
“And I’m growing ever tired of you, too, dragon,” I snapped, that thread on my sanity breaking.
He had the nerve to laugh.I’m going scouting. When I return, I expect him to be awake.Before I could respond, he shot into the air like a backward bolt of lightning.
Cursing the dragon, I grew another patch of thick grass beside the Fae, then I laid down beside him, pulling my sack between us and lifting open the top so Demon could poke out his head and graze. My knees brushed across the backs of the Fae’s legs. They were hard as iron, no doubt from straddling his dragon. I smiled to myself, imagining how my thighs would tense if I straddled the Fae. I’d healed every inch of his body, committed every bulge to memory, especially that one bulge. I briefly wondered how I could so easily envision myself having sex with him. Did that mean I’d had sex before? Perhaps I had a Fae of my own mourning me somewhere. The thought was like a cold bucket of water dumped all over my libido. But it didn’t stop me from dreaming of the handsome dragon rider as sleep finally claimed me.
* * *
“HELLO. WHO ARE YOU?”
My eyes fluttered open, and I blinked at the most handsome face I’d ever seen. He was lying on his side, his eyes still heavy with sleep, his mouth hitched in a lazy smile. His tunic was open, revealing a smattering of dark hairs on a hard chest.
“A healer. How do you feel?”
“Strange.” He dragged a hand down the stubble on his chin. “What happened?”
I did my best not to become transfixed by eyes as blue as a spring sky, his irises ringed with silver that complimented his hair. “Radnor says you were attacked by Malvolia’s fire mage.”
“Fuck.” He sat up, dragging a hand through that silky curtain of hair while searching the sky. “Is he okay?”
I assumed he meant Radnor. “Of course. He’s a dragon.” I reached for him, then quickly pulled away when he turned back toward me, pinning me with that penetrating gaze.
