Light Dragons 03 - Sparks Fly

a swinger! I would never want to see you with another woman! Unless it was my past self ... er ... I wasn’t yet born at the time of this vision, was I?”
    “No.”
    “OK, then. It’s just you and me. In your old bed. With the guys in the garrison just beyond that screen.”
    He gave in and gave another eye roll, but removed his clothing as he did so. “I will indulge you, but only because we have been separated, and it is the way of dragons to claim their mates upon return.”
    I giggled as I squirmed my way out of my shirt. “You already did that when you returned at three o’clock this morning. Twice. In a way that left me utterly breathless for hours.”
    “And yet you seem to have your breath again,” he murmured as he whisked off the last of his clothing, kneeling on the bed to stroke a hand up my belly to my breasts.
    I reached for him, shivering with pleasure as I slid my hands along the muscles of his arms and shoulders. “I expect you can do something about that.”
    “Perhaps,” he murmured, his cheeks nuzzling my breasts at the same time as his hands busied themselves with removing my bra.
    One hand slid down to the waistband of my jeans, about to unzip them, but a sudden shadow looming overhead had me gasping.
    The black-haired Baltic of the past stormed into the room, quickly removed his clothing, and flung himself down onto the bed, right on top of where I lay.
    “Whoa now,” I said, scooting to the very edge, looking down at the naked man who had once been my Baltic. “That startled me. Er ... is he going to be here for a while?”
    “How the hell do I know?” Baltic rolled off me, a decidedly disgruntled expression darkening his face.
    “Well, he’s you. Don’t you remember how long you were here?”
    The look he gave me spoke volumes, and none of them expounded on the brilliance of my thinking. “No, mate, I don’t happen to remember what I did every single day of my more than one thousand years of existence.”
    “You weren’t resurrected until almost forty years ago, so you missed three hundred years,” I pointed out, watching with interest as the past Baltic tossed and turned before lying on his back, his hands behind his head. I couldn’t help but glance downward.
    “Ysolde,” Baltic said warningly.
    “I was just looking, not comparing. Besides, I already told you that your resurrected form was a bit more robust, so you have nothing to glare at me about, not to mention the fact that this is the very same body I used to ogle in the past.”
    “Come,” he said, holding out his hand.
    “Well, I had planned ... never mind. I suppose having him right there wouldn’t be appropriate.”
    “Nor desirable. We will continue this in our own bedroom later.”
    Reluctantly, I climbed off the bed and accepted the clothing Baltic handed me. As we put on our clothing, I glanced back at his former self with a bit of sadness. “Although if you were to lie down in exactly the same spot that he was ... ”
    The lecture he gave me as he dragged me out of the keep and down the bailey was potent, but not worthy of repeating, and of course, absolutely unwarranted. “And in the future, you will cease involving me in your visions. Do you understand?”
    “Pfft,” I told him, pinching him on the behind as he strolled around the corner of the hut next to the practice yard. “You’re so limited in your ability to enjoy different things.”
    “I have more important things to do with my time,” he called back as he disappeared.
    “Nothing is more important than the job your father gave me. Hey, speaking of that, you never told me who that woman was. Baltic? Who was she?”
    “Who’s who?” a voice asked behind me. I spun around, staggering slightly when the world spun with me for a few moments, finally resolving itself into a familiar, if uninspiring, bedroom atop the old pub. “Are you all right? You look funny, like you smell cabbage cooking.”
    “I’m fine, lovey.” I smiled at the brown-haired boy watching me with eyes that always seemed far too old for their nine years. “And there’s nothing wrong with cabbage, despite your stepfather’s insistence that it was put on this earth only to try his patience. That stir-fried cabbage with peanut sauce that Pavel made last night was to die for, which you’d know if you had tried it.”
    Brom wrinkled up his nose. Always a placid child, if a tad bit eccentric, in the month that had passed since our house had been destroyed,