Corrupted: An Epic Dragons and Immortals Romantic Fantasy (Fallen Emrys Chronicles Book 1) by E.E. Everly (motivational books for men txt) 📕

“Let me show you where our stall is before I lose you, and then you can wander. We need to set the furs up.”

I nodded. “I’ll even be gracious enough to help you unload those stinky furs.”

“Hey, people like those stinky furs.”

I wriggled my nose. “It’s a rotten carcass I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing.”

Owein’s hand slipped down my side, below my ribs, as if feeling the weave of my garment. The motivation for his intimate touch was self-serving, but I didn’t mind. He was growing on me. Owein’s not Aneirin.

“We can’t all be dressed in such fine clothes,” Owein said. “You’ll be taken for nobility. Everyone’s eyeing you. I hope you have money.”

I pictured the items in my satchels. Enough gems and gold coins to last an eternity in Gorlassar. Emrys rarely exchanged money for goods. We traded items in equal shares. The services of one for the services of another. How far my handful of shining stones and metals would spread, I didn’t know. Owein had paid for the room at the inn, and other than that, we had no added expenses when what we ate was caught.

We rounded a corner, and Owein said, “Here we are. Same place as last year, right at the edge of the dance floor. Do you like to dance?”

I couldn’t stop my grin. “Of course I like to dance. Let me guess, you paid extra for the booth so you could ogle the pretty ladies.”

“No, Arnall paid extra for the booth so I could man it while he sneaks off and flirts with the lasses.”

“Did I hear my name?” Arnall dropped the wagon’s gate and lifted a stack of furs. “The rest of the company split to their stalls. We’ll meet them at the week’s end for the long journey back.”

Ah, the long journey… I was curious about Owein’s home in the lowlands, but I didn’t know where I’d be at the end of the week.

Owein leaned in. “How long would a month’s excursion by wagon take with a dragon?”

“From a summer’s sun up to sun down.”

Owein whistled. “If we didn’t have such a load of goods by the week’s end, I’d have you fly me home.” He paused and grinned ridiculously. “So, uh, when can I take my first dragon flight?”

I shook my head, pretending I didn’t hear.

A few low bellows and twanging started at the edge of the dance floor as musicians tuned their instruments. Curious, I tilted my head toward the ruckus. I had never seen such instruments—a curving gourd-shaped one with four strings played with a long horsehair stick, a shiny tube with buttons and valves, hollow rods for striking with a mallet, and round drums stretched with animal skin.

As the musicians began a cheery tune, merchants pausing from the day’s setup bustled onto the floor.

Oh, the laughing and fun!

I clapped my hands and swayed to the beat. Owein and Arnall were unloading furs, oblivious to my awe and amusement. A man swerved by me with a petite, shy girl, and he winked at me. I put my hand over my heart and blushed. I was used to Owein’s flirting, but from a man I hadn’t been introduced to…

A hand slipped down my lower back, made its way along my elbow, and around my wrist. “I’ll dance one song with you if you lend me those hands you promised to help with. I could use your good eye for arranging the furs in a pleasing fashion.” Owein pulled me onto the dance floor.

I laughed. He no longer stunned me with his forwardness. And because I had no inkling of the dance steps, Owein twirled me to his heart’s content.

ELEVEN

A sparkling, clear sky greeted us the following morning. The festival’s streets were so packed that I had to squeeze my way between shoulders. Owein was right on my heels, pressing a hand against my lower back, steering me through the throng.

Owein convinced Arnall to spare him a few hours so he could give me a tour of the festival. Arnall didn’t even resist. I sensed he was being generous, with the hope of the same favor later. They were such good friends that the things they did for each other didn’t surprise me.

So I could hear Owein over the crowd, he whispered in my ear at every turn. I didn’t balk at his closeness. The festival was tight quarters everywhere. It’s not as though I hadn’t been touched by a man before either, but in this crowd, who could tell one tender, guiding touch from a passerby’s brush?

I could.

Aneirin might not have been my sweetheart, but growing up together as friends, we’d touched plenty.

I tried not to think of how Aneirin tugged my hands to drag me on some adventure or how he tortured Catrin and me by tickling us under the willow trees until we cried. Or even how we wrestled together when we played skip-the-dragon-scale in the creek.

My memories sounded silly.

We were children. And played at children’s games. We’d matured since then, and youthful games slowly vanished to be replaced by mooning glances and the yearning to find a soul mate. Aneirin’s rough-and-tumble touches stopped. He grew too nervous, afraid he’d lead me on. How had I been so blind? Even though I’d been in the mortal world for a week, I missed him.

And his idiotic, furrowed brows.

“I must be terribly boring because you’re contemplating something deeper than my blue eyes.”

We had paused beside a stall, and Owein faced me. Apparently I was staring blankly at his face. I had no idea what he’d said.

“I’m sorry. Yes. Uh, thinking about home.”

Owein clasped my hand between his hands. “And someone. I know that face. Arnall might not have the longest, most meaningful relationships, but he’s