wedding dresses and tossed bouquets from the moment they held their first Barbie. Cynna's first Barbie had learned kung fu and either beat up or protected the other Barbies.
She could have sworn Cullen knew her well enough to understand that she was not marriage material. This whole baby business must have unseated his reason… a comforting notion. Nice to think she wasn't the only crazy one.
Not that she was so insane she'd consider marrying a lupus. Cynna might not know much about marriage—or any long-term relationship, really, since hers tended to fizzle out pretty fast. But surely fidelity was nonnegotiable, and Rule was the only faithful lupus on the planet.
She wasn't cruel enough to marry a lupus, either. She didn't know what the other lupi would do to one who violated one of their most deeply held beliefs, but it wouldn't be pretty.
Maybe Nokolai would kick Cullen out if he went nuts and got married. God! Pain pinched at her just thinking about that. She didn't know what it meant to a lupus to be clanless—not in her gut, anyway, not the way another lupus would. But she knew it was the worst fate they could imagine.
Cullen had lived clanless for most of his life. He'd been Nokolai only a few months… three, she thought, maybe four. He'd been adopted into the clan shortly before they met.
What was he thinking? How could he risk losing that?
Maybe he wasn't. What did she know? And dammit, she couldn't ask. He'd tell her what he wanted to—probably not lying outright, but he enjoyed stirring the truth into a shape that suited him.
Besides, she didn't want him to think she was considering his proposal. She could ask Rule what sins got a lupus booted from his clan. She'd need to keep it hypothetical. If she…
Some stupid piece of nature tripped her while she wasn't watching. Cynna barely kept herself from taking a header. "Dammit!"
Cullen stopped, turned. "Oh, for crying out loud! Here." He made a gesture as if he were tossing something in the air—and a ball of light bounced into being, then hung there between them, glowing like an enormous firefly.
She stared. "Mage light. You know how to make mage light."
"Mika showed me. It was embarrassing, really. Turns out it's pathetically easy. Doesn't take more than a smidge of power."
"And you let me stumble along in the dark all this time."
"You had your hand in my pants at first. I liked that."
"You—"
Tell your mate to open his mindspeech shield so I can speak to him.
Cynna jumped—and stared. A ribbon of darkness peeled itself off from the shadows up ahead and padded toward them along the path. A very large ribbon. With eyes. The eyes were silvery gray; the pupils, slitted. They were about ten feet off the ground.
The whiff of fear didn't surprise her. How could anyone see a dragon without tasting fear? "Ah—Cullen? Mika wants to talk to you."
Cullen put his hands on his hips and frowned at the approaching dragon. "What?"
Your female wishes to attack you, but believes an attack would be unfair. Explain this.
"Quit poking your nose in our brains," he snapped.
My nose is not… ah. You employed metaphor. I do not need to poke my nose anywhere. Her thoughts are loud. Muddy, but loud.
Cynna had seen a dragon up close and personal before. She'd even ridden one on their mad flight from hell. That didn't detract from her fear, or her fascination. As Mika drew closer, the two feelings melded into awe.
The ball of mage light wasn't as bright as a flashlight would have been. She caught hints and shadows of the long body with its sidewise sway; the great wings were folded into a dark hump riding his back. His neck was long and muscular and as flexible as a snake. He held his head roughly level with his shoulders.
That head was triangular, the snout almost delicate. Mobile frills like those depicted by Chinese artists decorated his eye ridges, ear holes, and jaw like black lace. In the soft glow of the mage light, the scales on his face shifted through
She could have sworn Cullen knew her well enough to understand that she was not marriage material. This whole baby business must have unseated his reason… a comforting notion. Nice to think she wasn't the only crazy one.
Not that she was so insane she'd consider marrying a lupus. Cynna might not know much about marriage—or any long-term relationship, really, since hers tended to fizzle out pretty fast. But surely fidelity was nonnegotiable, and Rule was the only faithful lupus on the planet.
She wasn't cruel enough to marry a lupus, either. She didn't know what the other lupi would do to one who violated one of their most deeply held beliefs, but it wouldn't be pretty.
Maybe Nokolai would kick Cullen out if he went nuts and got married. God! Pain pinched at her just thinking about that. She didn't know what it meant to a lupus to be clanless—not in her gut, anyway, not the way another lupus would. But she knew it was the worst fate they could imagine.
Cullen had lived clanless for most of his life. He'd been Nokolai only a few months… three, she thought, maybe four. He'd been adopted into the clan shortly before they met.
What was he thinking? How could he risk losing that?
Maybe he wasn't. What did she know? And dammit, she couldn't ask. He'd tell her what he wanted to—probably not lying outright, but he enjoyed stirring the truth into a shape that suited him.
Besides, she didn't want him to think she was considering his proposal. She could ask Rule what sins got a lupus booted from his clan. She'd need to keep it hypothetical. If she…
Some stupid piece of nature tripped her while she wasn't watching. Cynna barely kept herself from taking a header. "Dammit!"
Cullen stopped, turned. "Oh, for crying out loud! Here." He made a gesture as if he were tossing something in the air—and a ball of light bounced into being, then hung there between them, glowing like an enormous firefly.
She stared. "Mage light. You know how to make mage light."
"Mika showed me. It was embarrassing, really. Turns out it's pathetically easy. Doesn't take more than a smidge of power."
"And you let me stumble along in the dark all this time."
"You had your hand in my pants at first. I liked that."
"You—"
Tell your mate to open his mindspeech shield so I can speak to him.
Cynna jumped—and stared. A ribbon of darkness peeled itself off from the shadows up ahead and padded toward them along the path. A very large ribbon. With eyes. The eyes were silvery gray; the pupils, slitted. They were about ten feet off the ground.
The whiff of fear didn't surprise her. How could anyone see a dragon without tasting fear? "Ah—Cullen? Mika wants to talk to you."
Cullen put his hands on his hips and frowned at the approaching dragon. "What?"
Your female wishes to attack you, but believes an attack would be unfair. Explain this.
"Quit poking your nose in our brains," he snapped.
My nose is not… ah. You employed metaphor. I do not need to poke my nose anywhere. Her thoughts are loud. Muddy, but loud.
Cynna had seen a dragon up close and personal before. She'd even ridden one on their mad flight from hell. That didn't detract from her fear, or her fascination. As Mika drew closer, the two feelings melded into awe.
The ball of mage light wasn't as bright as a flashlight would have been. She caught hints and shadows of the long body with its sidewise sway; the great wings were folded into a dark hump riding his back. His neck was long and muscular and as flexible as a snake. He held his head roughly level with his shoulders.
That head was triangular, the snout almost delicate. Mobile frills like those depicted by Chinese artists decorated his eye ridges, ear holes, and jaw like black lace. In the soft glow of the mage light, the scales on his face shifted through
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