Katie MacAlister: Love in the Time of Dragons

“Oh, really? I’m going to want to hear about this,” Cyrene said, tugging on his arm. “Come on, let’s go home. I want to swim in the pond.” “The pond,” I said, thinking of that beautiful home, with the even more beautiful grounds.

“That house was built for Ysolde,” Baltic called after Kostya. “She will have it again.” “You can try, dragon,” Kostya said in mimicry of Dr. Kostich. “You can try.” We stood together alone in the field, the afternoon sun beating down on us, the smell of the warm earth sinking deep into my soul, where Baltic’s fire resided.

I let my gaze roam over his face, over the high, Slavic cheekbones, along his widow’s peak, to the eyes that shone like polished ebony. “Everything is wrong, Baltic.” “Not everything.”

“We’re at war with the weyr.”

He shrugged. “We don’t need them.”

“We do. They are our kind. More importantly, I want to be a part of the weyr. I want there to be peace between us.” He took my hands, his mouth hot on my fingers as he kissed them. “I don’t know that I will be able to give you that.” “We’ll work on it together, OK?”

He said nothing.

“Then there’s the First Dragon. How do you know him?” He dropped my hands and wrapped an arm around me, gently urging me toward the house. “If I tell you all my secrets now, what will you have to worm out of me with your inventive sexual persuasions?” “Typical dragon answer. I can’t tell you how annoying that is.” “I am not typical. I am the dread wyvern Baltic.” “You are the annoying wyvern Baltic, that’s what you are. What are we going to do about this thing that the First Dragon expects of me? How can I do whatever it is when I haven’t the slightest idea what he was talking about? And how did I fail him in the past?” “Questions, questions, you were always full of questions,” he sighed, pulling me tighter against his body until his heat became mine.

“What about your sword? That’s not right that you should just hand it over to Dr. Kostich.” “There is a difference in surrendering something temporarily, and relinquishing the same,” he said cryptically.

I glanced up at him, squinting against the low sun. “If you’re going to steal it back from him, I want to help. I can’t believe I slaved for that man for all those years. Talk about ungrateful. Do you think Kostya would let us buy that house? This one is nice enough and all, but that house is just so us. And while I’m thinking of it, who was it who gave his life for me? It wasn’t you, was it? You were already dead. So who did that? I wonder also if I need to get a divorce from Gareth. Were we even really married, or did he just say we were?” Baltic sighed again. “You wear me out with all these questions, mate. Can you not think, instead, of all the ways in which I will use chocolate upon your body?” “Stop distracting me. I’m angsting, and I can’t do it if — wait, on my body? Oooh. Now that is kind of kinky… ”