There was something wrong with Prim.

Something really, truly wrong with her. She’d need to see a healer when she got back to the city.

Flying was great. It was amazing. It was a thrill unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It had her heart pounding and her lungs bursting to scream out in joy.

But she still wanted Con’s arms around her. Just in case.

Not that his arms could do much if she were to fall off the dragon’s back and plummet to the ground that looked very, very far away.

But he said he’d catch her if she fell and--yep, there’s something wrong with her--she believed him. She believed he’d dive off that dragon into the open air below to catch her. What would happen after that, she didn’t know. But he said he’d catch her, so he would.

And the way he said it. He had laughed. Lunin, his voice had been so gravely and amused and full of promise. And his breath had caressed her ear just as surely as his lip had, sending tingles down her neck.

She wanted to take his hand and guide it down. It had already been in her grasp. It would have been so easy. She wanted to feel those long, perfect fingers of his on her clit. She wanted them inside her. And that thing that kept nudging her backside? She wanted that, too.

Not to get intel. Not to manipulate him. Just because she wanted him.

She’d lost her damn mind.

How had someone like him become…someone like him? He was good, she was certain of it. It was apparent in everything he did: keeping her comfortable, feeling guilty for rousing the shopkeeper, offering to fix Gordy’s saddle, sleeping on the floor, everything. For fuck’s sake, he had dropped to his knees before her just to roll up her pants--no, his pants. That he’d offered so she wouldn’t be cold while he suffered. The thought had her stomach dropping in a feeling of weightlessness that had nothing to do with flying. Gods, she had it bad.

And that he continued trying to persuade her of how bad and dangerous he was only proved that he wasn’t. Proper assholes don’t admit that they’re assholes. If he was truly rotten, he would try to hide it, not convince her of it.

Something terrible must have happened to him to lead him on this path. Was it just because of the death of his brother? That was fifteen years ago. He would have been a teenager then. Prim didn’t want to know what else it could be, though she had a sinking feeling it might have something to do with why he seemed to hate her so much.

Well, his words seemed to imply that he hated her.

His actions, not so much.

They’d been riding for hours and Prim’s legs were a bit sore. She had to laugh to herself at that. If she walked all day, they were sore. If she sat on her ass all day, they were sore. She supposed she could add that to the list of things that were wrong with her. Her arms still laid atop Con’s, which now rested lazily on the tops of her thighs rather than squeezing tightly around her waist. She still had her palms on top of the backs of his hands, still had her fingers between his. He hadn’t once tried to remove them. Not since he told her he wouldn’t let go.

Prim had kept her eyes closed most of the time. She didn’t want to lean forward and use Adrina as a windshield. She liked the solid feel of Con on her back. But it had made her a little nauseated. She was forced to oscillate between open eyes staring at the helmeted head with the short brown braid sticking out of the bottom while being assaulted by the wind, and closed eyes for respite that elicited a roiling stomach.

If she was ever in a position to fly again, she would demand--no, request--Con find her one of those helmets. Or at least some kind of eye protectant.

Though if she was ever in a position to fly again, he likely wouldn’t be around. Whether she went back to Hogard or went on to her next captor, Con wouldn’t go with her.

That realization shouldn’t have had the effect on her that it did. He was no one. Worse than no one. He was a threat to the future of Wassalia.

But he was also Con. And she liked Con.

The ground began to get bigger. It transformed from blobs of colors to individual fields to individual crops. Then Gordy was on the ground in a space between thick trees and rolling meadows with a rushing stream separating the two landscapes.

Prim watched as Adrina gracefully dismounted before she finally released her hold on Con’s arms. They remained around her for a few moments longer and it made her heart flutter to realize he hadn’t been counting down the seconds until he could remove them. Then his fingers were untying the straps that held her in place and she was floating to the ground courtesy of his magic. He dismounted just as gracefully as Adrina had and both of them followed Gordy to the stream, their movements smooth.

But Prim didn’t. Her legs were far too stiff to glide effortlessly to the stream as they had. Instead she remained where she was, bending and stretching. She could see Con and Adrina were talking, but couldn’t hear what they said. Con extracted a waterskin and bent low on the bank to fill it up as Gordy took greedy drags straight from the flowing water, his smooth tail swishing happily behind him. Con offered it to Adrina--who drained it--before he took it back and filled it again. Instead of drinking himself, he walked it back to Prim.

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He didn’t command her to drink like he normally did as he handed her the vessel. He didn't say anything at all as she drank her fill, only rummaged through their bag. He pulled out a swath of fabric and handed it to her without comment, then collected the empty waterskin and returned to the bank so he could finally have his drink. Prim disappeared into the woods to see to her needs.

When she returned, Adrina and Con had set some food on the grassy area between the woods and stream. Gordy was nowhere to be seen. Prim watched as Con handed the dragon whisperer his bag of coin and she tucked it in her own small bag that was securely fastened to her person. That was what he meant when he’d told her it would be worth it for her to give them a ride. He’d paid her handsomely.

They’d been talking but abruptly stopped when Prim approached.

Adrina winked a pale eye at Prim, her brown hair a bit askew. Apparently not all Northerners were as adept at taming hair as Con was. “What’d you think?”

Prim beamed. “I loved it,” she answered honestly.

Con huffed out his nose as if he didn’t believe her and crossed his arms. Adrina excused herself to find some privacy in the forest.

Prim turned her attention to him. “Are you a dragon whisperer, too?”

He didn’t answer, just gestured to the food. “Eat.”

Bear rolled her eyes. “Back to land-Con, I see. I much prefer sky-Con. Which, along with how natural you are with Gordy, makes me think you are.”

“I’m not.” The sun shone bright on his tied-back hair, lighting the black strands to brown.

“I suppose you couldn’t bring your dragon to Hogard,” she mused, raising her arms as if firing an imaginary crossbow. “But why not have him—or her—stashed just outside the city? We’d be at our destination by now if you’d done that, wouldn’t we?”

Dante stared at the rushing water a moment. “I’m not a dragon whisperer. I’ve just been around them enough to have built up riding stamina.”

“Enough to have clothes specifically for flying?” she asked as she dropped to the ground next to the spread, folding her legs under her.

“Eat, Bear.” Con stared down at her a moment longer before walking toward the forest just as Adrina returned.

The dragon whisperer crouched to survey the food, pushing her lips out in indecision.

When Prim was certain he was too far away to hear, she asked Adrina quietly, “So where’s Con’s dragon?”

Adrina looked at her for a moment, then looked past her. Then she was snorting.

Prim turned around to see what the dragon whisperer was looking at, but saw only the field and trees brightened by the midday sun, the leaves and grass swaying in the slight breeze. “What?” Prim asked, crinkling her nose.

Adrina was still smiling as she selected some cheese and an apple from their spread. “Gordy said a dragon would chew off their own wings before claiming one of his kind.” Then her smile straightened as if realizing she said something she shouldn’t have.

Ah. “Dragons claim their riders? So the Zulas who claimed Con’s woman is a dragon? She’s a dragon whisperer?” That would make sense. Maybe he was only interested in dragon whisperers, and that was why he was so familiar with flying.

Adrina made a face. “He told you about her? He did not refer to her as his woman.”

Rustling from the treeline had Prim whipping her head to see Con burst out, still in the process of pulling up his pants, stumbling as he yelled, “Not another word!”

Both women laughed, though Con didn’t look amused. He looked pissed. How had he even known they were talking about something he disapproved of?

The trio ate in near silence. Then Prim lounged in the grass on her back, her arms under head, one foot on the ground and the other propped on her knee, gazing at the fluffy white clouds that she would soon be flying through. The other two spoke quietly to one another far enough away that she couldn’t hear what they said, paying her no attention. She, however, flicked her eyes to them often and was pleased each time to see Con’s arms remained folded over his chest. He didn’t return any of the casual touches Adrina bestowed upon him throughout their conversation.

Prim closed her eyes--giving them a break before they’d be once again terrorized by the rushing air of the sky--but opened them when the ground shook as Gordy landed. He must have coasted in; no wingbeats had alerted her to his approach.

Con was standing over her a moment later. “Do you need more water? Food? Do you need to visit the forest again before we leave?”

Prim shook her head after each question.

Con reached a large, rough hand down and she accepted it. He pulled her to her feet a bit too forcefully and as she stumbled into him their hands disconnected. She raised her palms to brace herself against his chest as he gripped either side of her waist to steady her.

He’d had to do that twice today. He likely thought she was as clumsy as a newborn foal, though she could blame this time on his brutish strength.

Con’s shirt was so thin she could acutely feel his chest beneath her palm. She could feel the hard muscle, the coarse hair, the beating heart. Gods, he must be freezing in the air. No wonder he didn’t object to wrapping himself around her. She flexed her fingers, bunching the fabric of his shirt slightly, then unfurling them to lay flat against him once more.

She looked up to find Con looking down at her. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed into his eyes. They weren’t brown like she had originally thought. Not entirely. There was an inner ring of brown that blended into an outer ring of green, like the transition of a muddy river emptying into the sea. The two different, yet similar, converged into one. They were mesmerizing and complex, just like him.

Prim’s eyes dropped to his lips. They weren’t thin, they weren’t full. But they were his. And if he was as selfless with his kisses and lovemaking as he was with everything else, they must be talented.

What would he do if she just stretched up and kissed him? Kill her, like he so often reminded her he could? Kiss her back?

No, he’d just retreat before giving her the chance.

Adrina cleared her throat. “Time to go, lovebirds!”

Prim looked to see the leather-clad dragon whisperer hanging off Gordy’s leg, waving her arm in a summoning motion.

Until that moment, Prim hadn’t realized how long she’d been staring at Con. Hadn’t realized she had once again bunched the fabric of his shirt, this time into tight fists.

Before embarrassment could set in, two more realizations struck her.

He’d been staring at her just as long.

And his hands were still gripping her waist.