Bloodlines: Dragon Rider Book 2

Chapter 39: Woman Lover

Hello! I'm back with another chapter for you all and hope you all enjoy the read! 

The night was hot, forcing me to shed my sweatshirt for a shirt. Rima shared the same sentiment, never falling into the deep slumbers she likes, and uses a tendril of herself to nudge my heart, my mind awake. My brows scrunch, sensing more than seeing the early morning.

"Norah." Holland's voice is quiet but not soft.

I don't dare move or breathe, knowing that whether he knows I'm awake or not won't deter him from waking me up.

Rima heaves in a tired sigh and releases it in a soft rumble. "He looks different." She doesn't entirely care and doesn't know why she wasted precious sleeping seconds to tell me. She tries to fall back asleep.

"No one's up," Holland says. "You can talk to that boy-who-pretends-to-be-a-man before anyone wakes up."

I turn into Rima's warmth, sensing Squirm adjusting on my hip before falling back asleep. "I don't want to talk to anyone."

A short pause. Then...

"Get up."

With a yawn and rubbing my eyes with my palms, I pull myself into a sitting position. The new-look doesn't shock me. Not when hair that brushed his brows is now slicked back and out of his face, the gel he uses making his silver shinier and stark against his dark armor and the darkness of the early morning.

"If you wanted it out of your eyes," I say flatly, trying to stroke the frizz out of my hair. "I could have braided it."

Holland folds his arms. His new hair brings out the hard angles of his face, the forwardness of his jaw, and sharpness of his chin that makes his jaw clenches so much more intense. The straight nose that sits between bright blue eyes filled with boredom, if not thoughtfulness. His thin, but not quite full lips press into a tight line.

"Just preparing for whatever trouble you get into." He nods over his broad shoulders. "Get up, let's go. Go talk with that boy and get it over with."

I watch him leave, stepping over Rima's red and whitetail before getting up and changing into monochromatic armor. With a bit of prodding, Rima wakes up enough and lets me watch myself through her eyes, parting my hair down the middle before twisting it into its usual two dutch braids that run down the sides of my head. Dread pools in my stomach, turning heavy as lead as I finish the final braid and walk out into the camp.

A small fire, barely scraping mid-shin length flickers a few feet away, turning in the direction of the breeze. My eyes go to Holland leaning against his dragon's leg, an ankle crossed and mug of what can only be filled with coffee in hand. He sips it, glancing down at Squirm stretching by my feet. Galeur does the same, his tail nearly brushing against the tent Adam and Clarika sleep in.

Easton sits on a rock, his tawny hair refracting the orange and red of the fire. He's already watching me, waiting a few seconds for me to pass before following me into the forest. Squirm, for once doesn't trail, and trots toward the lake to feed on sleeping fish. As we walk, my neck burns with Holland's piercing gaze. I don't dare look at him and try to seem casual, unbothered as Easton and I disappear into the fog lined forest.

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Silence hangs as thick as the fog at our boots. In his blood orange armor, the pureblood is a beacon through the dark skies. The sun hasn't quite risen, but the air has lightened enough to see the faint branches and rocks jutting out of the fog. Easton steps around them with the grace of someone growing up in forests, leaves, and twigs barely crunching under his steps. I trail behind him, anger and dread curling in my gut as the crackle of fire disappears and the snores of dragons fade. He keeps going a while after that, no doubt getting us out of their earshot to give us privacy.