Page 28 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince
By the time we’re satisfied with my control, I’m achy and sore. The sun approaches noon, and I’m eager for something different, a new way to progress.
“When do you think I can fly?” I ask Drakon.
He considers it for a moment, then gives a new command, “Turn around.”
He is now my teacher, and I do as he asks, but still I wonder, “Why?”
His hands wrap around my waist. “I’ll assist you.”
Before I can object, he lifts me off my feet. We soar upward, him lifting me, until we’re even with the canyon’s lip. The obsidian glints with sharp edges, and my fearful instinct is to pull my wings tight.
“Don’t panic,” he assures me. “I’ve got you.”
I strain, keeping my wings extended. He’s right—this isn’t the time to make myself small.
He glides, a smooth descent from our height. “I want you to feel the wind under your wings.”
It takes all my self-control not to clench, but as I ease in, I discover the rush of wind isn’t pinning me in a nosedive.My wings sit above the breeze, catching the air and gliding. Drakon soars over me, still holding my waist. I’m not moving independently, but all the same… I’m flying.
The more I relax, the easier the effort becomes, and I’m almost having fun by the time we reach the canyon’s end, where the lava meets the sea.
“Again?” he asks.
“Again,” I agree.
We repeat this—him lifting us up and gliding down together—and my confidence blooms. With control, flying feels so different from falling, and the sharp rocks no longer matter.
We rise from our fifth practice round, and I shimmy my waist, wiggling against his hands. “I want to try on my own,” I say.
“No.” He sets me down on the ledge. “Rest first.”
My body protests, spiked with adrenaline. “But—”
“You’ll be stronger after a break,” he insists. He’s right, so I soothe my flushed body, retracting my wings into me.
“If I’m resting, you’re resting too.” I lead him back to the sleeping cavern, my heart pounding as he stays close.
We share a small lunch, and soon we retreat to the nest, resting side by side. While I close my eyes, sleep eludes me—it’s impossible, enveloped by him, my nostrils filled by balsam and char. He holds me, spooning his stomach against my back, my fingers dance against his arms, caressing him, learning every scale.
His body is taut, his muscles a firm reminder that I’m protected and safe. I’m acutely aware my bodice barely covers my back and his chest is bare. My thighs clench, and the bodice tightens, constricting me.
He nuzzles into the back of my neck, his warm breath running down my spine, and I can no longer delay. My body demands I take action, and I turn over, facing him.
Surprised, his eyes dip, his gaze brushing my swollen breasts before returning to my lips. His mouth trembles as he swallows.
Holding my breath, I reach for him, brushing my fingers over the scales of his cheekbones. I edge my lips closer, daring him to kiss me. I beg for it.
All at once, he darts forward, taking possession of my mouth. My lips run against his, hot with the contact, as my back arches, pressing my belly against his. My hands find his wingblades, and I’m rewarded when he shivers under my touch.
He’s hungry, and so am I. I draw his tongue into my mouth, finding it rougher and firmer than a man’s. I explore, learning where it comes to a fork, and he teases my lip between his teeth.
He is muscle and strength, power and promise.
Instinct drives me forward, and I become daring, tracing his chest until my hands hug his waist. He drops his mouth to kiss my exposed cleavage and moans into me, raising a hand to cup my breast. He squeezes gently—then hard.
I gasp, and he grins, lifting to kiss my lips again. My fingertips dance over his waistband. He’s responsive, swaying as my fingers dip beneath.
His bulge presses against my stomach, and my core clenches.
