Flight of Dragons(360)
They’d have to face that eventually. But as long as the storm raged, none of that mattered.
7
The storm didn’t break until the middle of the night, and they could have stayed until morning. But when Bjorn heard the dragons return, alerted by the quiet shake of the rock beneath them as the beasts settled on the outcrop at the cave’s mouth, he pressed a kiss to the back of Britt’s neck.
“Wake up, min kæreste.”
“Mmmm.” She rolled back against him, the sweet swell of her ass stirring his erection.
If that wasn’t a reminder that they needed to return to the monastery immediately, nothing would be. He needed to speak to Brother Randolf.
He needed to be free to claim Britt as his mate.
“It’s time to head back.”
She stiffened against him, then rolled onto her stomach. He resisted the overwhelming urge to smooth his palm over that bottom that had felt so good rubbing against his cock, and now looked so good curving into the air. That was a good call, because the ice in her voice as she blinked out into the darkness made it clear she wasn’t interested in anything sweet or hot happening at the moment. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“We’ll be safe on the dragons.”
“That’s not my concern.”
“Then what is it?”
She jumped to her feet, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she found her footing. “Why now?”
“If we get back before breakfast prayers—”
She held up her hand. “Stop. Okay. Fine. You want to go back, we’ll go back.”
“Britt—”
“No. I said I wouldn’t be your undoing and I meant it.” She gestured with disinterest at the blanket and his satchel of food. An ache settled into his chest at the memory of their decision the night before to keep some food for breakfast if need be. “You’ll pack up? I need to go wash my face.”
He watched with concern as she disappeared around the opening of the cave. They’d set a bowl out to capture rain water for this very purpose, and she was as sure-footed as a donkey—although infinitely prettier—and his worry was misplaced.
Or just projected.
He’d said the wrong thing. When she came back into the cave, he’d apologize and start over again.
She didn’t give him that chance. The next thing he heard was a surprised huff from one of the dragons, then a squeal and a flap of wings.
The minx had taken off on him.
Quickly shoving everything into a rough bundle, he ran after her. His own dragon, still saddled up from the day before, something he’d need to apologize to her for profusely when they landed, dipped her head and accepted him on her back without any fanfare.
“Quickly,” he urged. “Follow them.”
This time, it was Bjorn that won the race. He let his dragon fly completely unreined the entire way, and it was like she knew what it was to chase a pissed-off mate.
Technically Britt landed first, but he’d more than made up the lead she had. And she’d barely started her careful wipe down of her dragon when he landed.
He did the same, knowing two things: one, his dragon deserved that respect; and two, if he didn’t do it properly, Britt would drop-kick him off the nearest cliff.
That would run counter to trying to talk to her again; counter to making her love him the way he loved her.
But that wasn’t the only reason he hung back.
After the last two days, now was the moment that God chose to communicate with him.
Not through words. Bjorn would never be that lucky—probably because he yearned for it so strongly. God would teach him humility one of these days.
But in the bright light of the second moon, still high in the sky, Bjorn was struck dumb at the sight of Britt quietly having a full-on conversation with her dragon.
From what he could pick up as her gentle, low voice rippled through the air, she was mighty grumpy about men.
The male dragon seemed to be taking it in stride.
It wasn’t until she turned to the topic of the next day’s flight plans that he trusted himself to interrupt. And when he did, he wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” Her voice dripped with fatigue.
“You speak to him like…”
She whipped her head around, her long blond waves flying in all directions in the moonlight. “Like what?”
The razor blades in her voice sliced into his skin, and he hated that, so he backed down. “I don’t know.”
“No, you do.” She could see so much of him. More than he knew of himself, that was for damn sure. “What bothers you most, Father? That I believe this dragon is a sentient being, worthy of hearing my secrets, or that I confess my sins to someone other than your God?”