Celenore

Tamara tried to hold still, she really did, but the anticipation was too much. Sophie was alone in the command tent with her, helping her to dress. "Stop shaking!" she said, poking her with a finger. "I can't do your hair if you keep fidgeting like this."

She'd waited so long for this day. It wasn't happening as she had imagined it, but that no longer mattered. All that mattered was Byron. She could have worn a burlap sack and it wouldn't have mattered, but instead, they had managed to rescue her ceremony gown along with her trunk and many other belongings when they fled the fort, including the pommel stone she would bequeath Byron for his Sverak.

"Gods!" Sophie was breathless. "Wait until everyone sees you in this."

Lady Emmy's face came to mind. Only a few weeks had passed since her gown fitting, when Emmy had treated her like a daughter. It felt like ages ago. Everything since then had piled up in towering columns in her mind. Her chest tightened. A sob broke free of her lips. "I wish Emmy and Davi were here," she whispered. "It's not fair."

"Nothing that has happened is fair, Tamara." Sophie hesitated, her voice turning soft. "I wish they were here too. And Lord Reyr." At the mention of Reyr's name, Sophie's voice turned dreamy. "But we will manage without them, won't we? Because we must."

"We must." Her voice was nearly a whisper.

There was no looking glass to see her reflection. She could only gaze down at herself, at her gown, and admire the fabric. Icy blue layers cascaded around her, falling over the stool upon which she sat, while Sophie finished pinning her tresses atop her head. Like a frozen waterfall spilling over a rockface.

"There. You look like a queen."

"I wish Lady Claire was here, too," she mused. "I would have liked that. But...we can't afford to wait any longer."

"Is there a reason you're rushing into this?" Sophie failed to disguise her curiosity.

She hesitated. "We cannot postpone any longer. I want him. I want him more than I've wanted anything. It's like something's missing and I'm incomplete. But it's also more than that. We haven't spoken of it, he and I, but his father alluded to it some time ago. A vote will happen when we reach Fort Kastali. Our people must vote Byron in as their permanent leader. They will be more confident voting him in if we are mated. It shows..." She fumbled for the right word.

"Maturity?"

"Yes, among other things. What would the fort think if he dangled me on a string without solidifying our bond?" She shook her head. "We must present a unified front. Besides, it's safer for both of us. We cannot communicate when we are separated. If something happens while we travel..."

"Well, if that's the case"—Sophie gave her hair a teasing tug—"I'm surprised it took you so long to reach this decision. We've been on the road nearly two weeks."

"Yes, well, he needed time to grieve. Time for both of us to process what has happened."

"Understandable." Sophie placed her hands on Tamara's shoulders, gently squeezing. "There's naught to be done now but celebrate! Gods, I wish you could see yourself. Come, the others are waiting."

Sophie led her to the doorway of the empty tent. No one was permitted to see her in her gown until the ceremony, which would happen as soon as she made her way to the party tent. It was a small tent. Most of their audience would stand outside to witness the event. Byron had the idea to set up a makeshift platform using some of the crates they'd brought.

"I'm nervous," she whispered after peeking out at the assembled crowd. An aisle had formed from the command tent to the party tent, which had been decorated with ribbons. The smell of roasting meat permeated the air. It was only morning, but everyone was eager to feast. They would likely spend the full day doing so. She, however, had other ideas of how she would spend her day. Plans that involved flying off into the wilderness with Byron.

Travel bags were already packed for the two of them with everything they'd need. Since the camp would offer little privacy, Byron would fly them to a secluded place after the celebration, somewhere they could be alone.

"Everyone is waiting," Sophie whispered, prodding her in the back. "You've got to step out eventually. Quit stalling."

"Okay. Okay. You're right." She took a deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her gown. Had it been a traditional ceremony, she'd have had a slew of ladies following her out. Some had offered, but she decided Sophie would do.

Taking the wild flowers Sophie offered her, she left the tent. The sun was already racing towards its zenith. It dazzled her. She paused to blink. Gasps erupted around her. The aisle of people that had formed waited, watching, whispering about her dress. Calling her beautiful and radiant. She only wished Emmy and Davi were there too, and her parents, her mother especially, and her brothers.

She clenched her teeth. There was no use in wishful thinking. She might be a fort leader someday—likely sooner than she ever imagined. It was time she accepted the world for what it was. Time she made the best of it.

Lifting her chin, she moved down the aisle, step by step. Sophie held the train of her gown to keep it from catching on the flattened grass. Her cheeks warmed as the whispers followed her. Sophie kept pace.

She rounded the corner and the occupants standing under the party tent came into view. She didn't see Byron at first. Then he loomed into view. She faltered. His attentive eyes were on her, focused on each of her movements. His golden hair was swept to one side, and his eyes twinkled, even from a distance. His hands were clasped in front of him. He stood motionless, shoulders pinched. Was he as nervous as she?

His manner of dress was similar to hers. He wore a tunic to match, with a pair of beige pants and black boots. The image of his naked body flashed into her mind, distracting her, and she couldn't help the giggle that shattered her tension. He too smiled in response.

She went to him.

"Tamara," he murmured, holding out his hand to her when she was close enough. She took the remaining steps more quickly and grabbed him like a lifeline, anchoring herself. "Gods, you look incredible. Like a jewel. My jewel." He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Her stomach fluttered.

"Hello Byron," she whispered, too nervous to say anything else.

Fierran stood before them, Byron's wing second and life long friend. With a nod from Byron, he began. Everyone hushed to hear his words.

For all the nights spent imagining, nothing could do this moment justice. Nothing could relay the feelings of her nerves while she stole glances at Byron, or explain the feel of her racing heart when they exchanged the Drengr pommel stone and Rider's bow, to protect each other in their own way. Nothing could illustrate the warmth that snared her body as Byron took her hands in his and turned to face her. They recited the bonding words in unison, staring into each other's eyes:

Rejoice!

A bond is discovered—

a lifetime destined by fate.

A commitment unbreakable,

until Daudagher takes us.

A tender comfort to ease the hardship

the other's labor has brought.

A love that takes root,

encouraged by caring hands and gentle kisses.

A promise is made;

a promise is sealed.

A single mind from two combined:

a Drengr and his Rider.

As they moved through each step of the ceremony, the rest of the world disappeared. She had only eyes for Byron, and he couldn't remove his gaze from hers. When their bonding words came to a close, sparks passed between them like shivers, running through her arms and body, humming through her blood.

"And so it is said, so it shall be!" Fierran cried, turning to the audience. His words were far away. She was in a dream.

Byron squeezed her hands. "One step closer," he said, keeping his voice low. His eyes darted to her lips. Her stomach swooped. She sucked in a sharp breath at the promise of what was to come.

Around them, the crowd had erupted into cheers, bringing her back to the present.

Their audience clapped and smiled and offered words of encouragement as they made their way down the aisle to the command tent, where they would pass several minutes alone before joining the celebration—mostly to catch their breath. "Davi and Emmy would be so proud!" someone called. "About time!" another shouted.

A blush crept to her cheeks at some of the other words that were said.

Alone in the tent, Byron wasted no time in pulling her into his arms and kissing her. "Gods, I thought my heart would leap from my chest," he breathed. The look on his face, so open, so vulnerable, melted her insides. "I couldn't take my eyes off you for a single minute." He set her back on her feet and looked at her. His expression faltered for a moment, smile falling. Almost as quickly, he replaced it.

"What is it?" she whispered, tangling her fingers deeper in his hair. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." He was too quick to answer.

"We're mates, Byron. You can tell me anything."

He sighed. "I just wish..." She knew what he was going to say before the words were out.

"Your parents," she finished. He nodded, glancing away from her. She tugged on his hair, bringing his gaze back. "They are here," she whispered. "In our hearts."

"You're right." He nuzzled his nose against hers before kissing her temple. "You're right. They would be so happy for us, my mother especially. She looked forward to having you as a daughter. I'm just...I'm glad she got time with you before...before all this." He took her face in his hands, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. "Shall we take a few minutes before going back out there? The crowd is already getting rowdy, I can hear it."

She thanked the gods for the subject change. "I think we'd better not wait too long."

Happy shouts filled the air, reaching them in the tent. Admittedly, she would have been content to sit alone with Byron, with him holding her, cradling her in his arms. She hated to share him on a day like this. But it was necessary. He would never be entirely hers anyway—not if he became Fort Squall's leader.

She tilted her head, listening for a moment before pulling his head to hers. His tongue brushed her lips, sending shivers down her back, like invisible talons sensually clawing against her skin. She opened wider and shivered again when his tongue teased hers. His hands were equally vexing as they roved over her body, exploring her curves through the fabric of her gown. A hint of what was to come later.

"Does it ever stop?" she whispered when he pulled away. "This...wanting?"

A chuckle sounded deep in his chest, more of a dragon's rumble than anything. "Gods, I hope not."

The celebration lasted all morning and well into the afternoon. There were few tables to be had, and those they did have were in the form of makeshift crates. Stools sat scattered about. Blankets spread across the ground. And not a single complaint about the limited amenities.

Tamara and Byron were seated at what had been deemed the high table, like a proper lord and lady of the endless wilderness surrounding them. Food was abundant in the form of roast meat, potatoes, and flat bread, so she ate until her dress squeezed enough to smother her. Then they danced to the flutes and stringed instruments that had been pulled from trunks. When the sun fell lower in the sky, Byron made excuses and began saying their goodbyes. It was time to seal their bond.

"Give her memories she'll never forget," someone called as they left the party. "Make your father proud!" another yelled.

Her face lit on fire. Godsdamn them!

Many of the fort's Drengr were hundreds of years older than Byron. They'd watched him grow up. This was a happy moment for them, seeing him reach this milestone of his maturity. Seeing him with a mate. It was their chance to tease him with their bawdy innuendo.

She was all but shaking when she climbed up and strapped in to the harness. The fort gathered around them, a sea of bodies, offering more congratulations and well wishes. She had planned to change into an appropriate gown for the wilderness, but a few hushed whispers from Byron earlier had changed her mind. He wanted to be the one to remove her gown. The enticing proclamation was irresistible, so instead, she had Sophie bustle it up in the back. It puffed up around her, gobs of fabric the same color as Byron's scales, spilling out over his neck and wing joints.

They took flight and left the cheers behind them, heading west. She embraced the silence of the sky, letting the energy of the celebration die down in her chest. Watching the landscape loosened the knot in her stomach.

"You need not be nervous," Byron said.

"I'm not nervous!" Her face colored at her lie. Words from her conversation with Claire had been playing over and over in the back of her mind, coaching her through what was to come. "And quit prying," she teased. "These are my thoughts, not yours."

"They will be mine soon enough." A grumble emanated deep in his chest. She knew exactly what he meant. Her mind. It would be his at all times, soon enough. Not just when they were flying. He swooped low, looking for a comfortable stretch of landscape that might serve them.

Were the Drengr always this possessive when a mating was close at hand? His behavior, the frenzy of his mind, his thoughts, had turned from civilized to animalistic. Growls and grumbles driven by instinct instead of logic.

He snorted, sending plumes of smoke from his nostrils. "Don't expect a Drengr to be civilized. We aren't human. And there are plenty of humans that lack the distinction too." Just to prove his point, he sent her a mental image of how he planned to ravish her, making her skin burn.

They landed on a stretch of open wilderness. "Wait here," he said, rather bossy, already in human form as he moved about constructing a tent with a few quick muttered words. Magic. A thrill raced beneath her skin. She would learn magic once they were bonded. Once his magic belonged to her.

The small shelter wasn't tall enough for them to stand, merely adequate for sleeping. Not that there would be much sleeping. She eyed him as he removed plush furs from the bags—one for the tent and one for the ground outside it, which he cast beside them.

"Hmm." He hesitated, contemplating his efforts. "I think I'll have you right here to begin with. Worship you under the open sky."

Gods above! She placed a hand against her heart. Had he any idea what those words did to her nerves?

He finished with his task and turned to her, eyes roving up and down her body. Assessing.

"What?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Nothing. I'm framing you in my mind so that I never forget. Just as you are here in this very moment." The vein at his neck was jumping. She was certain that his heart, like hers, was racing.

A shiver raced down her spine. She closed the distance between them, her gown whispering over the grass. "And do you like what you see?"

"Very much, Lady Tamara. Very much." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Shall we put Lady Claire's advice to the test?"

She sputtered. "That was...that was private!" As she tried to swat at his chest, he caught her hand, holding her pinned against him with his other arm.

"Feisty, are we?"

"Only when you tease me."

"Mmm. But I enjoy teasing you, Tam." His voice was a low rumble. "I always have."

Memories of the kiss he'd stolen long ago, before she knew they were mates, of the way he'd teased her even then, came to the forefront of her mind. He buried his nose in her neck before kissing the shell of her ear. His silken lips sent shivers across her skin. The fabric of her gown pulled taught over her breasts, leaving her breathless.

"You smell good. Like lavender."

She couldn't find words, and was glad when he captured her mouth in his, kissing her, claiming her. His hands climbed up her back and into her hair at the nape of her neck, releasing the pins holding it in place. It cascaded down around her shoulders in an inky waterfall of curls. A gentle sigh fell from her lips, only to be captured up in his greedy mouth again as he ran his fingers through her tresses, caressing her scalp. She groaned.

Her hands weren't idle either. They snuck beneath his tunic to the bare skin of his back, relishing in the corded muscle rippling with each movement. He pressed her against him. She flexed her fingers, digging her nails into his skin. He growled, deep in his chest, pushing her away almost immediately.

"Turn," he said, a dark laugh on his lips. His eyes transformed as he spoke, turning into something draconian, pupils to slits. Slits that devoured her.

She shuddered, overcome, as she faced away from him. He fussed with her gown. His fingers worked slowly, until she was convinced that he relished in the act, purposefully postponing their next moments together. A frustrated tut escaped her lips. Another dark laugh sounded beside her ear. "Shall I go faster?" he asked, voice a husky growl. Who was this creature?! He took her waist in both hands and pulled her flush against him.

"Yes," she breathed. "Faster."

"Hmm." He began again, this time moving quickly as he finished the remaining fastenings and pulled the gown away, sliding it down her body. His fingers burned through her silk chemise, setting her skin aflame as he trailed down after the gown. When she looked over her shoulder, he was crouched behind her, helping her out of her slippers.

He laid her down beside him on the fur rug, claiming her lips once more. His hands were an entirely different matter. One arm supported her head while the other found the hem of her chemise and began traveling up her leg, sending tingles of sensation to the tops of her thighs. A soft groan built in her chest. She could do little more than wrap her fingers about his neck, tangle them in his hair. When his hand found the apex of her thigh, she gasped into his mouth. He growled with approval, exploring her, relishing in the effect he had upon her.

The sensations were...unimaginable. Her expectations were entirely unprepared. Warmth and desire ripped through her, turning her into someone she hardly recognized. Nothing else mattered save the way he made her feel and the pleasure he got in return. As his fingers worked, exploring her, slipping into her, a pressure built in her core. At last she was gasping and desperate, her body aching and tense beneath his touch, clinging to him as her muscles tightened. His tongue was against hers, coaxing.

She needed a release. Gods above! More than she had ever needed anything.

Her back arched against his chest. A cry escaped her lips, unbidden, and another, more heightened. Then her world split apart and she shattered around him, letting go. The movements of his hand slowed, then stilled. Her body tumbled down from its high, and her eyelids fluttered open to find his gaze upon her, eyes still draconian slits.

"Here, or the tent," he growled.

She blinked up at him, struggling to speak. "There's...there's more?" It was the stupidest thing she had ever said. Of course there was more. Even if she didn't know better, his expression said that clearly enough. Her mind was simply scattered, fragments she didn't care to piece together.

A deep but satisfied laugh shook his chest. "Oh yes, Tamara, there's so, so much more." Without waiting for her answer. He stood and undressed before her. She propped up on her elbows to watch him, blushing as she beheld him for the second time. Her eyes went exactly where they had before, except this time they didn't shy away from taking in the length of him. A pleased rumble in his chest brought her gaze to his. He wasted no more time in toying with her. Instead, he got on all fours and stalked towards her before finding her lips again, enveloping her in a silent promise, one that could not be illustrated with words.

He lifted her chemise up around her waist and united their bodies, claiming her the way a Drengr claimed a mate. This time she knew what to expect, and welcomed it, opening herself fully to him. And when her world shattered for a second time, it was to find him riding the waves of euphoria beside her, his mind linked to hers in the throes of passion, permanently fused as one.

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