What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she have that sort of a bond with Sintara? Or with anyone? She glanced at Tats surreptitiously. He leaned far out on the railing, grinning. Why didn’t she announce she’d chosen him? Why couldn’t she be like Jerd and charge into things? Jerd had obviously sampled a number of males. Now Greft had proclaimed she was his, and she didn’t seem displeased with that. Would it be so hard? To just take what was offered, without making a commitment?

The silver, obviously pleased with himself, lashed river water to a froth with his tail and then, spreading his wings, “flew” in a series of splashes to join the other dragons in the shallows. The other keepers crowded the aft railings, laughing and shouting and pointing. She began to drift in that direction.

Without warning, Tats took her hand again. He tugged at her until she turned back to face him. “Don’t be so sad. Rapskal and Heeby might still be alive. We won’t give up hope just yet.”

She looked up at him. He wasn’t that much taller than she was, but the expedition had changed him. He’d muscled out, his shoulders and chest built up by the paddling in a way that was very different from the muscles of a tree-climbing gatherer. She rather liked it. Her eyes moved over his face. The small tattoo of a horse, legacy of the slavery of his infancy, was only an unevenness against his windburned skin in the fading light. The spiderweb was nearly gone. This close to him, she could smell him, and that, too, was not unpleasant. Her eyes met his and she realized how dark they were. His smell suddenly changed, and she realized she was sucking on her own lower lip as she studied his face. She saw him take a breath and dare himself.

She acted before he could take the decision from her. She leaned in, turning her head slightly and putting her mouth on his. Was this how it was done? She had never kissed anyone on the mouth. Awkwardness and worry assaulted her. Tats’s arms suddenly moved up and around her, pulling her body against his. His lips moved on hers. He knows how to do this, she thought, and knew an instant of fury at where he’d learned it. Well, she wasn’t Jerd and whether she kissed the right way or not, he’d soon discover that she did things her own way. She shook her head slowly, moving her lips back and forth against his. Scale on softness, she thought, and briefly lost herself in that sensation. His hands wandered up her back and their touch on the tender area between her shoulder blades made her twitch with pain.

“What is that?” he demanded.

Embarrassment flooded her. “It’s nothing. I got cut in the river. It’s sore.”