“No. I still have my task.” He raised his tail to show that he had Elina wrapped in it. She hadn’t complained once. “I have to get this one back to the Outerplains.”

“Good, lad. Never forget the job your queen has given you. If you happen to slaughter a few enemies along the way . . . that’s just like extra biscuits at tea time, really.”

“Also, give these journals to my father. They were Costentyn’s. Perhaps they will tell him something useful. Tell him that if he finds anything interesting to let me know.” Celyn handed over the journals he’d found in Costentyn’s cave.

His uncle dropped the journals into his travel bag.

Good-byes were said and Celyn’s kin took to the skies. Once they were gone, he brought his tail around.

“Think our horses are still there?” he asked the woman wrapped in his tail.

“I do not know about your oversized travel-cow, but the Steppes horse will be where I left him.”

“Good.” Celyn started to place her on the ground.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Allowing you to walk.”

“Why? What is wrong with flying?”

“You want to fly back to our horses?” he asked, stunned. The only human he’d ever met who’d seemed to love flying right off had been Izzy. To be honest, that’s how he got close to her. Letting her ride his back whenever he could. But with Elina, he’d merely been attempting to torture her for a bit of fun. It had never occurred to him she’d enjoy it. “They’re not that far away.”

“I am very tired, dragon. It has been long morning. Now you make me walk? Like sheep? Does my well-being mean nothing to you?”

“Why don’t you just say that you like to fly and you want to try it again?”

“I could,” she admitted grudgingly. “But I am more comfortable with yelling at you.”

Celyn shook out his wings, ready to take to the skies again, but first noted, “I swear, She of the Excessively Long Name, it’s like you were born and raised among my kin.”

Chapter Twenty

They rode hard for the rest of the day, stopping only briefly so Celyn’s horse could get water and they could relieve themselves. Other than that, they kept conversation to a minimum and ate while they rode. Something Celyn was sure he now loathed doing.

They finally stopped late after suns-down, when they found a freshwater creek and some wild boar nearby. The pair separated so they could do their own hunting. Elina wanted to test out some of her new arrows while Celyn simply wanted to feed in peace without that look of horror humans often got when they watched dragons eat animals still kicking and screaming.

After washing off the boar’s blood in a lake not too far away, Celyn returned to their camp to find that Elina had already taken down three boars. She’d also skinned them, deboned two, put one on a spit over a fire, and stripped the flesh off the other two so that she could dry them out over the fire during the night. That way they’d have fresh dried meat to take with them the next day.

The human had turned out to be quite the hunter.

“Have you tried working with other weapons?” Celyn asked as he sat down by the fire in human form.

“I have. I sadly have no skill with sword or mace. I can use dagger for close-in work but I do not enjoy killing so much that I want to do close-in work. Besides,” she went on, surprisingly chatty for this time of evening, “I enjoy bow.”

“Because it takes precision, strength, and real skill.”

She nodded as she finished with the last of the meat. Walking over to the creek, she crouched down and washed the blood from her hands. Somehow she’d managed not to get any on her clothes, which impressed Celyn even more than the fact she’d taken down three wild boars in a relatively short amount of time.

With her hands clean, she turned and walked back toward their little camp. That’s when she proceeded to remove the leather jerkin he’d purchased for her and then the cotton shirt underneath.

Celyn didn’t think much of that—until Elina straddled his waist and dropped her pert little ass onto his lap. She still wore her leggings and boots, but the only thing that would be between his hands and her breasts was the material she had binding them.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding much more panicked than he’d like to.

“It has been long day,” she replied nonchalantly. “Much activity. I am tired but not sleepy. I thought we could fuck and then I would have good night’s sleep, making me ready for ride tomorrow.”

“You want to fuck me?”

“You are only one here. I could play with myself, but . . . you are here. And sometimes my hands get tired. I do not want them worn out in case we have more murderers to kill tomorrow.”

“Uh . . . well . . . um . . .”

“Do you not want to fuck me? Is it because I am weak and pathetic?”

“What? No. No! You’re not weak and pathetic. Who keeps telling you these things?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you want to fuck me, then what is problem?”

“Shouldn’t I take you out to a pub for dinner? Or write you poems or something?”

Her lip curled while her brows pulled down into a vicious frown, and yet she still managed to look horrified as well. “Poems?”

“You know. I’m charming. I usually charm females into bed.”

Her eyes crossed. “I do not want any of that. I just want fuck. I am using you.”