Page 24 of Blood Singer

"Oh my God," she breathed. I could hear her perfectly, my dragon senses far more acute than my human ones, picking up every nuance of sound and scent. "You're beautiful."

Beautiful. Not terrifying or monstrous or any of the other words humans typically used when confronted by my dragon form. Beautiful.

"You're also the size of a 747," she added, and I caught the edge of nervous laughter in her voice. "Maybe bigger. Do you have any idea how big you are?"

I didn't know what a 747 was, but from context, I gathered it was something big. The comparison amused me more than it probably should have.

"I'm aware of my size," I said, watching her jump slightly at the sound of my voice.

"You can talk!" She took a step closer, her wariness vanishing entirely, replaced by pure fascination. "I didn't know dragons could talk. I thought you'd just, I don't know, roar or something."

"We can roar," I assured her, letting a low rumble build in my chest until the flagstones vibrated beneath us. "But we can also speak. It's more difficult in this form, the vocal structures are different, but possible."

She was walking toward me now, slowly, her hand outstretched like she wanted to touch me. I lowered my head further, bringing my snout within her reach. She placed her palm against my scales.

Her touch sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the physical contact and everything to do with the intimacy of the gesture. Her scent wrapped around me, and I could hear her blood singing, the melody that was shifting, changing, becoming something that called to my dragon in ways I didn't fully understand.

"Your scales are warm," Leila said softly, her fingers tracing the edge of one of the gold veins. "I thought they'd be cold, like a snake or something. But they're warm, and they feel almost like... I don't know, like stone that's been sitting in the sun."

"Dragon fire burns inside us," I explained, hyperaware of every place her hand touched. "It keeps us warm even in the coldest climates."

She looked up at me, and the expression on her face made my throat tighten. There was no calculation there, no hidden agenda. Just genuine wonder and curiosity and something else I was afraid to name.

"Would you like to fly?" The words came out before I could stop them.

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"If you would like."

"Yes!" She didn't hesitate, didn't ask for time to think or voice any concern about the danger. Just immediate, enthusiastic agreement. "Yes, absolutely, I want to fly. What do I do?"

I turned slightly, lowering my shoulder to make it easier for her to climb. "There's a natural seat at the base of my neck, where it meets my shoulders. Climb up and settle yourself there. Hold onto the ridge of scales in front of you, they're designed to provide grip."

She approached my foreleg, studying the best way up. She was tiny compared to my dragon form, fragile and breakable in ways that made my protective instincts surge. But she didn't seem to recognize her own vulnerability. Instead, she grabbed onto the scales of my leg and pulled herself up with surprising agility.

It took her a few minutes to climb, and I held perfectly still, terrified of accidentally dislodging her. When she finally settled into position at the base of my neck, I registered the shift of her weight, the warmth of her body against my scales.

What was I doing? This wasn't just showing her my dragon form, this was inviting her into a space reserved for the most intimate of bonds. Every Drakhoni would know what it meant if they saw her riding me. Every tradition we had said this was wrong.

Only mates rode dragons.

But I couldn't bring myself to tell her to climb down.

"I'm ready," she called, excitement ringing in her voice. I could smell the spike of adrenaline and anticipation in her scent. "This is really happening. I'm about to fly on a dragon."

"Hold on tight," I warned her. Then I crouched low, feeling my muscles coil with power, and launched myself into the sky.

The first few wingbeats were always the hardest, the moment when I had to fight gravity and inertia to gain altitude. But once I caught the morning thermals rising from the sun-warmed valley below, flight became effortless. I spread my wings wide and let the air currents carry us higher.

Leila's gasp of delight reached me even over the rush of wind. I felt her grip tighten on my neck ridge, felt the way her body shifted to match the rhythm of flight. And her scent, gods, her scent was everywhere, wrapping around me, filling my senses with sweetness and excitement and something that made my dragon go quiet and certain in a way I hadn't felt in centuries.

In this form, my senses were enhanced beyond anything humans could imagine. I could hear her heartbeat, rapid with excitement but steady. Could smell every nuance of her emotional state, the joy, the wonder, the edge of arousal she probably didn't even realize she was feeling. Could feel the warmth of her body against my scales, the trust implicit in every breath she took.

I flew us over Argia first, circling the castle so she could see it from above, the white stone walls gleaming in the morning sun, the blue spires reaching toward the sky, the gardens spread out like jewels below. Then I headed north, following the river that wound through the valley like a silver ribbon.

"This is incredible!" Leila shouted, pure joy ringing in her voice. "This is the most amazing thing I've ever done!"

I took us higher, climbing until the air grew thin, until we were level with the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. Below us, Drakhone spread out in all its beauty, forests of purple-leaf trees, meadows dotted with wildflowers, villages with their thatched roofs and smoking chimneys. The morning sun touched everything with gold, and I found myself experiencing it alongside her rather than merely observing it. She laughed at something below us, pointing, and the sound carried to me over the wind with a clarity that made it impossible to look away.