Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

.”
    “How old are you?” he repeated, a stubborn glint in his eyes.
    “I have seen seventeen summers, not that it is any concern of yours,” I said primly.
    He grimaced, then shrugged, and instead of biting my hand, he pulled me up against his chest, his arms around me in an unbreakable vise. “This is the test, chérie .”
    His mouth was on mine before I could do more than slap my hands on his chest. I was no stranger to being kissed—Mark, the brewer’s son, was always happy to hide behind the ale barrels with me and kiss me as long as I liked—but this was not a kiss as I knew it. Where Mark’s kisses had been interesting and vaguely pleasurable, this was a kiss of an entirely different variety. The warrior’s mouth was hot on mine, hotter than I had ever experienced, hot and sweet and spicy all at the same time, as if he’d been eating spiced plums. His hands moved down my back, holding my hips, pulling me closer to his body, his tongue teasing the seam of my lips even as his fingers dug into my hips.
    With a frustrated snarl, he suddenly pushed me away. I stood shocked to my toes by the kiss, watching with astonishment as he doubled over, sliding his mail hauberk off over his head. He stood back up, pulling off the padding armor, then the leather jerkin beneath it, his eyes glittering like sunlight sparkling off rocks in a stream.
    “Now,” he said.
    “Now?” I asked, not understanding, taking a step back.
    He made a noise in his chest that sounded like a growl, his arms around me again as he pressed me up against the tree trunk.
    “Now I will prove to you what you are,” he said just before his mouth descended again, his body holding me against the tree. Gone was the mail that stood between us; now I was smashed up against his body, aware of the difference between his hard lines and my softer curves. But it was his mouth that captured and held my attention as his tongue swept along my lips again, urging me to open them. I did so, goose bumps prickling down my arms as his tongue swept inside, touching my own, tasting me even as his hands pulled my hips tighter against his, his fingers cupping my bottom in a way that was shockingly intimate and wildly thrilling at the same time.
    His tongue twined around mine, and I gave up all thoughts of fighting, tasting him as he tasted me, reveling in the groan of pleasure he gave when I mimicked his action and let my tongue dance into his mouth.
    Heat blasted me then, heat of such intensity I swore I was going to go up in flames, the fire of it pouring into me and setting my soul alight. Impossibly, the kiss deepened, the warrior pulling me upward along the tree trunk until my feet dangled a good foot off the ground, my mouth at the same height as his. I wrapped my arms around his back and gave myself up to the heat, to the pleasure he was stirring with just the touch of his mouth. The heat was in me and around me and through me, and with every second it filled me, my heart sang. I was consumed by it, burning just as bright as the biggest bonfire, my soul soaring with the sensation. I didn’t want it to stop, never wanted to stop kissing this strange, handsome man.
    “That, chérie , is the test,” he said, his face tight with some emotion as he let me slide down his body.
    I blinked at him a couple of times, trying to regain my wits. “Test?” I asked stupidly, my mind clearly too dazzled by that kiss to do anything but parrot what was said to me.
    “Only a dragon or a mate can take dragon fire and live,” he said, his lips almost touching mine. His eyes were as deep and shiny as the bit of onyx hung in a pearl necklace that my mother sometimes wore.
    “Who are you?” I asked, searching his face, memorizing it in order to tuck away the memory of that kiss.
    A slow smile curled his lips. “I am the wyvern of the black dragons, Ysolde de Bouchier. I am Baltic.”
    Baltic. The name resonated within my head like a bell, repeating and echoing until I thought it would deafen me.
    Baltic. The word spun around in my brain as I was swept up in a hurricane of thoughts, confused and tangled beyond hope.
    Baltic . . .
    “Sullivan?”
    My eyes shot open at the voice. I was disoriented, my brain feeling muzzy again, but as my eyes focused on the worried face peering down at me, joy leaped within me.
    “How come you’re out here in the dark by yourself? Are you OK?” Brom asked as I pushed myself up from the ground, where I’d evidently fallen asleep.