Carrie Vaughn - Voices of Dragons

“All those times you said you were off hiking by yourself, that’s where you were,” he said finally.

“Yeah.”

He chuckled, a harsh sound. “I guess I’m relieved. I thought maybe you were hiding another boyfriend somewhere.”

She huffed. “Who would that possibly be? There’s nobody else. I’m still the only virgin at Silver River High.”

“No, you’re not,” he said.

She felt a warm flush. Glancing at him, she put her hand over his, where it rested on the ropes.

“So,” he said, looking at their hands together, but not moving. “Have you ever seen a dragon? Up close, I mean.”

She didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“And why do you want to go back now? When the military is watching and jets could be bombing you any minute—”

“I have to do something. The military found out what I’ve been doing, and they want me to spy, but I can’t because if there’s even a chance I can stop this, I have to try.”

“Kay, there’s a reason we’re bombing them. Those things killed your dad!”

Her eyes stung. She hadn’t cried enough over this. But there was too much to do, she couldn’t stop to cry. When she spoke again, her voice cracked. “And how is sitting around being angry about it while the whole world goes up in smoke going to change that?”

She wanted to think that her father would understand. That he’d want her to try to stop this. That he’d be proud of her.

“What does this have to do with going over to Dragon?” he said, indicating the ropes and harness.

If he knew, he wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t help her. He’d be like her mother, horrified that she had put herself in so much danger, supposedly just for a thrill. Apparently, rock climbing was one thing. Dragon riding was completely different.

“I just need to,” she said, and left it at that.

He frowned, but he loaded the gear into his truck. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

So did she.

When they finished, she said, “I wasn’t kidding. I’d still like to go for a walk, if you want. We can stay along the road, where we can see.” The sky was a deep, dark blue, the light of day almost gone.

Jon glanced at his watch. “It’s an hour ’til curfew. It’ll have to be short.”

“That’s okay.”

Side by side, they set off. Jon fumbled until he found her hand, then clasped it tight. They went a hundred yards in silence. Kay realized her hand was stiff in his, because she was nervous. More than nervous—scared. Terrified. She didn’t have to do this; she could walk away. But she remembered what the pilot, Captain Conner, said about her and Artegal being the only ones who could talk to each other. If people and dragons were going to talk, it had to start with them.

She had to try, or she would have to watch this war get worse and wonder if she could have stopped it.

“If Tam knew we were out here, she’d start spreading all kinds of rumors about what we were up to,” Jon said. “Your reputation would be ruined.”

“Maybe that would be a good thing. She’d stop nagging me.”

“She nags you?”

“She thinks everyone ought to sleep with somebody.”

“What do you think?” He looked at her, his gaze searching.

“I don’t know,” she said after a moment. She was suddenly warm, and if she closed her eyes, she could feel Jon studying her. “I think I don’t want to do it just because everyone else is.”

After another long hesitation, Jon asked, “Do you ever think about it? Do you ever want to?”

She remembered something Tam had said about dying a virgin, thought about what she was going to be doing tomorrow, and wondered if she and Jon should run off into the woods and have sex right now. That wasn’t how she imagined them sleeping together for the first time—not that she was sure how she’d ever imagined it. Like it was in the movies or in the romance novels her friends used to pass around with the corners turned down on the pages with sex scenes. Something full of passion, on a bed with big fluffy pillows and candles burning. Not out in the cold, scared, worried, distracted.

“Yeah,” she admitted finally. “Sometimes. Then sometimes I just can’t picture myself, you know, having sex.”

Jon spoke softly, “I think about it a lot.”

She watched her feet, scuffing the dirt, unable to look back at the intensity in his eyes. “Tam says it’s the best thing in the world. Half the time I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about. She doesn’t think it’s normal for two people to go out and not sleep together.”

“What about you?”

Her whole body felt flushed, being so close to Jon, having this conversation. Something in her, some loud voice—it didn’t even sound like Tam—whispered, Come on, just turn your face. Just look at him. Just kiss him. Just turn and kiss him. Think of how wonderful kissing him would be .

She gripped his hand more firmly. “I keep waiting for something to tell me it’s the right time. I keep thinking I’ll get some sign telling me when I’m ready.”

“And what if you don’t? I mean, does it really work like that?”

She tried to figure out if he was trying to tell her that he wanted to sleep with her and that he wanted to do it now but couldn’t find the words.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Jon?” she said, because she was too tired and confused to work it out on her own.

They walked a few more steps, arms brushing, closer than ever, even though it was awkward with them both wearing heavy coats and bundled against the cold. He said, “Just thinking out loud.”

If she were waiting for a sign, she wondered if she’d notice it before it passed. And if she missed one chance, would she get another? This was too much to think about right now, when it should have been such a little thing next to dragons, war, and death.

She stopped, turned toward him, tipped her face up, started to stand on her toes—but she didn’t have to move far, because he was right there, kissing her. As if he’d been waiting, holding back until she made the first move. After that, she could barely keep up with him. Their lips touched, moved together. A pleasant dizziness washed through her—far from cold now, she almost wanted to take her coat off, to be closer to him. His hand moved to her waist, found the edge of her jacket, and slipped under it. He’d taken his gloves off, and she shivered as his skin touched hers.

They could do it. They really could. No one was out here, no other cars around for miles—

Then a jet roared overhead. Far to the north, an orange glow burned on the horizon, the remnant fires of bombing raids. The air smelled of soot.

They broke apart. Jon glanced at his watch. “It’s almost eight.”

“Yeah. Okay.” She had to catch her breath.

They almost jogged back to their cars, their breath smoking in the cool air. He was right—if she really was being followed by military agents, she should have paid more attention to the time. They’d love to catch her out after curfew.

Before leaving, they hugged one more time. “You’ll take that stuff for me?” she reminded him.

He pressed his lips in a grim smile. “Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

Kay had the worst time trying to act normal around her mother that night and the following morning, although she wasn’t sure Mom noticed. They’d been away from normal for a week now. She wasn’t expected to act normal.

Mom wasn’t acting normal. When Kay announced she was going to bed, her mother got up from the couch where she’d been watching TV and came over to give her a long, earnest hug. She didn’t say anything, just held her as if she were afraid Kay would vanish in the night.

Kay almost gave up on her plan right there.