Flight of Dragons(347)

She cocked her head to the side. She knew she was sending the monks a challenging look, but she wasn’t the prude who’d sworn off sex, and she thought she’d been alone with her friend. Inge hated thunderstorms and liked women—kissing her had been a reasonable distraction. “Are we in the way?”

“Errr…no. I suppose not.”

“Then yes, of course you may pass.”

“Right.” And still he didn’t move.

Oh, for the love of goddesses. She huffed and picked up Inge’s cloak, draping it around the other woman’s shoulders. “We are also heading back. May we walk with you? We might stop randomly to kiss each other indecently from time to time. Be warned.”

His mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

This was going to be a very long week.



***



Hours later, Bjorn watched her, the dragon rider, move through the group, stopping here and there to chat. She hadn’t looked at him since he’d stopped her from having sex with her friend on the path.

They’d gone running ahead on the path, and despite her lewd promise, he and Mikka did not encounter them again until the entire party of guests were gathered in the dining hall.

If she was upset with him, she wasn’t projecting it.

In fact, she seemed completely at ease. The way that she was paying him zero attention was more like she’d actually forgotten about the earlier encounter.

He hadn’t.

She’d occupied every thought he’d had over the rest of the day. He’d rolled over every detail he’d noticed about her in his head. How different she looked from the wealthy guest she’d been kissing, for example. Unlike the other woman’s gown, the blonde had been dressed in a functional rider’s outfit—obviously prepared for the rugged environment.

How quickly some people forgot their planet was wild and untamed.

This woman knew.

He wanted to know why. He wanted to know other things, too, that he didn’t dare voice even to himself.

To crowd out those thoughts, the ones about her mouth and who she kissed—only women? men? monks?—he found himself imagining an entire story about her. As the dinner feast began—she as a guest, he as a server—he strained to pick up pieces of her conversations, matching them against the narrative swirling through his head.

She was indeed a rider, named Britt. Raised with horses, she’d first flown on the back of a dragon six years earlier. His heart tugged at the memory of his own first flight around the same time. He felt a strange compulsion to sit down beside her and share stories, but that would be foolish.

Dangerous.

So instead, he went back to the kitchen for a pitcher of water, and when he came back, he stuck to the far side of the room—although that didn’t stop him from eavesdropping.

“Will the storms interfere with flying?” one of the guests asked, and since it came from her general vicinity, Bjorn heard it through the din.

It raised alarm bells in his gut.

The question was just thrown out there, but none of the other monks answered and Bjorn wasn’t close enough to pretend it had been directed it him.

Yes, of course the storms would change their plans. Only a fool would risk—

“No, of course we can still fly,” Britt said with more authority than Bjorn was expecting. “The dragons love the mist, and they can get above it. The view is spectacular from the top of the mountain.”

From the top of his mountain? The one that nobody had ever been to?

He stopped in his tracks. He didn’t interrupt her, but he wasn’t moving, either. Depending on what she had to say next, he’d have to interject.

Whoever had worked with this group to set up the week’s schedule hadn’t been paying enough attention. For the safety of everyone, man and beast alike, Bjorn would make sure this woman didn’t do anything crazy.

Quietly, though. He couldn’t just leap into the fray.

As if she could sense his concern, Britt swung her head in his direction. He flicked his gaze away, pretending to check who needed more water, but when he looked back, pretending to be all casual-like, she was waiting for him.

The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. You think I can’t do it?

What was she playing at? He set down the water pitcher and moved a bit closer. “Can I provide some assistance with flying plans?”

“No,” she said brightly, smiling, and something about the way her face lit up…it tugged at his gut in a strange way. She tilted her head to the side and her smile broadened even further. “We’re fine.”

“We do offer flying lessons…”

She stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “You think I need a teacher?”