“Klara—”

She was huddled against me in my lap, her legs dangling over Zaridan’s side, but at the sound of her name, her head snapped up. Hot anger was written over her face, an expression I’d never seen before, even though tears were glassy in her eyes.

“Are you fucking crazy?” she yelled, pushing at my shoulder. “You could have killed me, you bastard!”

My shoulders lowered, a small breath escaping me in relief. I would take her passionate anger over cold and careful rage.

“And yet you’re still alive,” I answered, keeping my voice calm as my hand trailed to the small of her back.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” she seethed, trying to shake me off even though we were on the back of Zaridan and she truly had nowhere else to go. “How could you do that to me? It was cruel!”

“Cruel, perhaps,” I said, setting my jaw. “But necessary. You think I enjoyed doing that?”

She shook her head, words escaping her. Her hands came up to her hair, smoothing it down as her shoulders heaved and trembled. Her gray eyes darted around the Tharken cliffs. Her scar appeared even darker because her face was so pale.

“Klara,” I growled. “Look at me.”

Even though she was furious with me, she turned her head to meet my eyes.

“I will not have mercy on you because an unbonded Elthika will not during the choosing,” I said, a fire sparking between us. “You need to be prepared for anything. You might think this was cruel. But believe it or not, I did this because I care about you.”

Her chest was heaving as she glared, but I thought I spied a thread of understanding weave through her expression.

“And you can hate for me this,” I added. “It was always a possibility that you might. But I will take that if it means that you know how to navigate a fall, that you have faith that you can be in control in a situation like that, should it arise. And it will. Yes?”

I tapped on Zaridan’s wing twice, and she began to rise in the air. Bringing us back up to the top of the cliffs.

“What is there to fear, Klara?” I asked her, cupping her face in my palms. She breathed in deeply. “I will always catch you. So there is nothing to fear. I’m trying to make you understand that.”

“And what happens if you’re not there?” she asked through gritted teeth, blinking back her tears with a small glare. That expression made me want to kiss it off her.

“That is what we’re doing here. To prepare you in case I’m not. But I can promise you, on Zaridan, on Muron, that until you have claimed an Elthika of your own, you will never be in danger if you fall. I did this exercise more times than I can count. Zaridan knows these cliffs like they are a part of her. She will never let you fall because I would never allow it. Do you understand?”

A rattled breath escaped her. She was still shaken.

“Because after this, aralye, that exercise that Kyavor had you do this morning, that seems like nothing, doesn’t it?”

A sobbing laugh of disbelief escaped her. She turned her face out of my hands. We’d reached the tops of the cliffs again.

“Just because I laughed does not mean I’ve forgiven you,” she felt the need to inform me.

I straightened. “I understand.”

My hands lowered away from her. And I settled back into the role of her instructor, knowing that it would serve her best if I kept my emotions out of this. If I kept myself as cold and detached as I possibly could, even though she was my wife.

“Again,” I ordered quietly.

She jerked, staring at me.

“What?” she breathed, already shaking her head.

“Again, Klara.”

She stared at me, her shoulders lowering and rising more quickly, familiar fear entering her gaze. I wouldn’t be satisfied until she no longer hesitated. She could be afraid—all riders held fear close—but I wouldn’t be satisfied until she had control over that fear. I knew it would be an impossibility for today, but it was a start.

“Fall. Trust in Zaridan. Trust in me.”

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Chapter 29KLARA

The sun was lowering in the sky, and I felt like I was out of my own skin. Like it was just something that had kept me contained my whole life.

My hair was wild. My skin sensitive and stinging. There was a ball of determination nestled deep in my belly. And I felt like I wasn’t myself. I felt like this other thing. This wild being who threw herself off the backs of dragons, who’d looked at death as it had risen up to approach her.

My bones and joints were aching from the impact of Zaridan’s catches. A permanent fluttering had taken root in my stomach, the force of the fall, and I wondered if it would ever go away.

There was another aching, wild thing in me though. An intertwining of frustration, anger, want, and gratitude. It mingled with the adrenaline, and I found that every time Sarkin caught me after another fall, it grew and grew.

His touch set me on fire. My body felt like it was a string, tightening and tightening, and I wondered what would happen when that string finally snapped.

I didn’t know if Sarkin felt it too. The adrenaline. The building and mounting sensation of fierce need. I wouldn’t have believed it, but in the last two falls I’d taken…I’d felt the fluttering in my belly move between my thighs.

When Sarkin caught me that final time, I knew I’d had enough. I’d willingly jumped off Zaridan over a dozen times that afternoon. I had been dismantled and then rebuilt with every last one until I was someone I didn’t quite recognize anymore.

Sarkin’s hands on me were as familiar as the sturdy, unyielding harness between my thighs and the sound of Zaridan’s great wings.

That string of tension finally snapped when Sarkin murmured into my ear, “Good?”

A breath, or a gasp or a sob perhaps, escaped me, and I turned in his arms, swiveling in the leather mount.

My kiss was a desperate, aching, wild little monster. The thought of it—of him, his lips, his touch, his taste—had consumed me. He was a monster, one who cared about me, one who had pushed me off Zaridan’s back to free me.

His kiss was immediate, his grip tightening on my waist. I was tugging at his clothes, fumbling with the clasps near the hem of his pants.

“Get them off,” I pleaded, my voice husky and raw from the wind. I needed to feel his skin against mine. I needed to be grounded to something, or else I feared I would fall into nothingness. “Kakkari, please!”

Sarkin’s growl was both a warning and a demand. He leaned over and thumped his fist along Zaridan’s side three times. She veered, aiming for the nearest flattened ledge along the cliffside.

I moved my mouth, biting at Sarkin’s neck, making him hiss, followed by a groan that had me squeezing my legs around the harness all the more forcefully. I couldn’t find the relief I needed though. If I didn’t have it soon, I was almost afraid of what would happen.

As sunset painted beautiful pastel colors over the Tharken cliffs and I heard the crash of waves from a faraway ocean, I felt a maelstrom of fierce need storming through every vein, rushing with every throb of my heart.

Sarkin timed our jump onto the ledge perfectly, and Zaridan left us, flying freely through the pass and disappearing from view. The stone was solid beneath my feet as Sarkin tore at my clothes. It was like a race to get us both undressed as quickly as possible. When we were naked, I crashed into him, crying out in relief at the warm stretch of his body against me, all solid muscles and tantalizing, arousing strength.

His mouth was hot like a brand on my neck, marking me with his teeth and tongue. My hands dove into his hair, keeping him there. He kissed and nibbled downward, seeking, before sucking my nipple between his lips. My moan echoed through Tharken.