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“Good,” Mohlad says.
He comes to stand at my side and then strokes the muzzle of the one I’m going to mount. The saddle has a stirrup that sways gently back and forth. I know, in theory, how to do this but theory and reality are nowhere near the same thing.
I reach up as far as I can and only barely get my fingers around the pommel then lift my right leg into the stirrup. The creature dances to the side and I lose my grip on the pommel. My leg is pulled forward still stuck in the stirrup and I’m falling.
I yelp loudly as fear grips my thoughts but before I hit the ground, which should be inevitable followed by being dragged off to who knows where, I stop and I’m floating. Purple eyes are only inches from mine. Full lips are so close and all I can think of is how they glisten and how much I want to taste them.
“Careful,” Mohlad says in a soft whisper.
I memorize the way his lips move as he speaks. The curl, tension, relaxing and the sweet smell of his breath. How does he do that? Do Zmaj brush their teeth? Do they need to?
A tremble passes over and I blink, trying to get my thoughts under control. He doesn’t move and I’m stuck so I don’t either, not that I want to. What I want is anything but to move. Away at least. Other movements, oh hell yeah. I’ll move with him all day and all night.
The familiar, yet so long forgotten tightness forms low in my belly. The coiling of a spring. I raise my right hand and run my hand through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face and tucking it around his protruding horn.
What am I doing? He’s a third of my age at best.
I don’t care and judging by the way he’s looking at me he doesn’t care either. I know attraction when I see it and there is no denying what that fire burning in his eyes is. I swallow and force myself to act much more sensibly than my body wants to.
“Uhm,” I say.
“Oh,” he says, shaking his head as if to clear it of distracting thoughts.
Thoughts of me? Of doing more?
Stop. For the sake of every god that anyone anywhere has ever sent a prayer to, let this young man be. This isn’t right for him, for me sure, what do I have to lose, but he has an entire life to live.
The thoughts bring a sadness with them that is so overwhelming I want to cry. I refuse to break down like that. Not now and not here. So I shove all my thoughts and feelings into a box and force a smile onto my face.
“Thank you,” I say, a much more appropriate response.
He nods and gently lifts me up until I can swing my left leg easily over the top of the guster then he lowers me into the saddle. He grabs the reins and hands them to me while I twist and shift to settle myself into the saddle.
He remains at my side, one hand on my thigh, which I am acutely aware of, and the other on the muzzle of the guster. I wrap the reins around my hand while tightening my thighs on the sides of the guster.
“Good,” he nods, then he looks up to me. “Good?”
“Yes,” I say and give him a smile.
Oh, I’d give you so much more.
No. Stop. Back in the box with all that.
He waits a moment longer before moving over to his own creature. That one is watching us with its bloodshot, baleful glare. I have no doubt that if the monster has any coherent thoughts they are all about how tasty I’m going to be when it finally eats me. Impulsively I flip the creature off. It snorts and tosses its head.
Mohlad mounts with the ease of practice and skill. He settles himself onto the saddle and no, I don’t miss the quick adjustment he makes to his boy parts. How could I miss such a thing? Old or not, I’m still alive damn it.
He makes a sound that sounds like chk chk and tugs the reins to the side. The beast tries to turn in the opposite direction but Mohlad smoothly pulls harder and the guster turns to the direction he wants and lopes forward. Without warning my own moves to follow. I’m tossed back, brushing some of the spikes behind but thankfully taking no damage.
Mohlad is watching over his shoulder, making sure that I’m okay. I smile and give a one handed wave. He smiles and nods but doesn’t turn back. He continues watching me as my guster falls in to the side of his.
The gusters carry us away and I can’t keep myself from taking one last look over my shoulder at the ship as it falls behind us. I hope it’s not the last time I’ll ever see it but if it is, I’m at peace with it.
“Adventure,” Mohlad says, smiling. “Me. You.”
“Adventure,” I agree, smiling.
And I can’t deny that I feel more alive in this moment than I have in a long, long time. No matter the heat, the danger, and the unknowns that we face, I’m alive and thrilled with it.
