The smell of food woke me. There really was nothing in the world like the smell of bacon frying.

I got up, showered, and dressed quickly—jeans and a loose blouse - then headed downstairs, guided by the smell that wafted through the cavernous corridors. Following my nose, I wandered down into an area of the castle in which I had not been before. From up ahead came a pleasant glow of warmth, counteracting the early morning chill that clung to the castle's stones, and the sound of rattling pots and pans, undercut by a man's voice singing off-key.

Sounded like Duncan, and my stomach did a flip-flop.

Okay, a short reprieve, which was welcomed. Although, I had to admit, as much as I dreaded seeing Alistair’s accusing face, part of me wanted to get it over with. I’d been wracked by crazy dreams all night long, some terrifying, some erotic as hell, and I’d decided the best thing to do was meet this mess head on. Yes, I was in uncharted water and yes, I was afraid, but I was here. Until or unless I left, this was the hand I’d been dealt and I was determined to see it through to its conclusion, whatever that might be. Hiding out in my room with my head in the sand because all these feelings were “too much” wasn’t an option.

The kitchen I entered was built on as grand a scale as everything else in the castle, looking like it had been designed to feed an army. There were rows of meat hooks on the rafters, nondescript barrels in the corner, and a vast wooden table dominated the center of the room, scored with a thousand years' worth of knife and cleaver marks. Above the obligatory fire was an iron spit, currently not in use. A large cooking range was by the wall, and in front of it, with his back to me, was Duncan, wearing one of the robes that I’d gathered made it easy for the men to change shape.

As I watched, he scooped a spatula-full of crispy bacon out of the pan and dumped it onto a plate that was already loaded. I guess dragons have a serious appetite, and right now mine was pretty big as well. I didn't think I had made any noise when I came in but Duncan seemed to have sensed my entry. He turned around, that bright, boyish smile on his face and waved the greasy spatula at me.

"Morning. You sleep alright?"

I nodded. It was a lie, but a harmless one.

“Breakfast?"

"Thanks. It smells fantastic."

"Can't beat bacon in the morning. Grab a seat."

I pulled a stool up to the table and wondered idly if the bacon was shop-bought or the result of yesterday's hunt. I decided not to think about it—I was happy to eat bacon but would rather not think about where it came from.

"Dig in," exclaimed Duncan enthusiastically. "Coffee? I'm having orange juice but there's a pot on."

"Coffee would be great," I said, taking the plate of bacon and then watching as Duncan bounced off towards the coffee pot. Duncan seemed to bounce everywhere, as if the energy inside him had to be vented in movement to stop him from popping. I wondered how old Duncan was. I had a sneaking suspicion that dragons did not measure age in the same way humans did, and that they were probably all centuries old. I didn't have anything to base that on but it felt right. But in appearance and the way he acted, Duncan seemed younger than me, somewhere in that joyful 18-21 bracket when you're out of the sullen teens and the whole world seems to be your plaything.

He brought me an enormous mug of coffee and sat down opposite with his orange juice and a mountain of bacon.

"Where are the others?" I asked tentatively. I didn't want him to think that I wasn't happy with just him for company, but I needed to talk to all of them, together, so I could tell them that I had made up my mind to leave.

"Out," said Duncan. "Getting supplies. Can't hunt everything. They'll be back this afternoon."

I nodded. What I had to say could wait until then.

"I'm sorry about last night," I said, finally. "Me and Alistair..."

Duncan waved my apology away. "You're free to do what you want. Don't feel like you have to obey any 'rules' here.”

His careless attitude made him easier to talk to than the others, less intimidating. "I hope Alistair wasn't in trouble."

Duncan shrugged. "We had an agreement not to go too far, too fast because we don’t want to scare you but, frankly, I'm over it—not sure about MacKenzie or Callum. I understand why it happened and I don’t blame him.” He looked up at me and I suddenly felt naked under his stare. “Not one fucking bit."

He looked away, as if mastering himself, and when he looked back, the smile had returned and all was casual once more. I wanted to tell him that however hard he was struggling against an attraction to me, I was having the same issue with him—but that just seemed like asking for trouble.

We finished breakfast in pleasant conversation and then, after dumping the crockery in the sink, Duncan said, "I've got something to show you."

He grabbed a backpack that was by the door, beckoned me with a nod and a grin, and hurried me up through the castle. Higher and higher we climbed until we came to a door.

"Here." Duncan took a fur coat from a rack of coats and robes beside the door and handed it to me. "You'll need this. These, too," he added, passing me a pair of heavy, fur-lined boots.

He wasn't kidding. As he opened the door, a blast of icy air hit me, whistling in from outside and making me gasp at the sudden shock of cold. We stepped out onto the towering battlements of the castle. The cloud layer of yesterday had dissipated and I gasped again at the view.

Duncan's grin widened. "What do you think?"

The whole world seemed to be laid out in front of me. It didn't look real, more like toys left lying on the floor—here a fluffy green forest; there the sparkling blue curve of a river; all so tiny and so perfect.

"It's magic," I breathed.

"Actually, not. And it gets better."

I couldn't imagine how.

"We're going on a little trip."

"You mean...?"

He nodded. "Very few of your kind ever get to see the world from the back of a dragon."

It was a tempting and thrilling idea. But it was also a terrifying one—in so many ways. I just wasn't sure what might happen.

Duncan saw my hesitation. "Think of it as a metaphor. Everybody has to ride the dragon at some point in their life. For some, riding the dragon is performing on stage, or applying for that dream job. For you, riding that dragon is actually riding a dragon. It's something that, if you do it you'll never forget it, and if you don't then you'll end up regretting it for the rest of your life."

He was right about that. I said nothing, but I smiled and Duncan beamed back. He handed me the backpack and stripped off the robe he was wearing. The cold did not seem to have any effect on him and I blushingly wondered if I would ever get used to seeing the magnificent bodies of my new friends, or if they would always leave me flushed, dry-mouthed and powerfully aroused.

Duncan threw his shoulders back and his body suddenly expanded, wings budding from his shoulder blades, neck thrusting upwards, his already massive chest billowing out as scales exploded across his naked body. He changed far more quickly than MacKenzie had, going from human to dragon in a mere split second, hardly giving me time to be shocked by it.

The golden dragon loomed above me, shining in the early morning sun, as beautiful as it was powerful. It actually looked like Duncan. Its blue eyes gleamed, it flapped its colossal wings for sheer love of doing it, then turned a dragon's attempt at a smile on me, baring rows of bright teeth. Then it crouched low to the ground, presenting its back for me to climb aboard.

Again, I hesitated. But not for long. There probably were a lot of reasons not to do this—Duncan did not know that I was planning to leave without helping him and his brothers, essentially leaving them to die—but when else would I get the chance? How many people were even lucky enough to get a chance like this one?

I climbed up onto Duncan's back, feeling the smooth scales beneath me, and beneath them the movement of his muscles. Once he was sure I was secure, the dragon Duncan stood up and spread his wings. His mighty head turned back to give me a look that was oh so very Duncan. And then he leapt.

I felt as if I had blacked out for a second, though I was conscious throughout, the overwhelming rush of sensation was simply too much for my mind to take in and so the world was reduced to a rushing flood of feelings pouring in on me like liquid elation. I felt like squealing with joy, and then realized that I already was. Down we swooped, leveling out just above the ocean, skimming along its surface, low enough that the tips of Duncan's wings cut into the surface of the water to leave white plumes of wake. The sea below had never looked so blue, and nor had the sky above. Then, with a mighty flap of his wings, we were off again at high speed. Land appeared before us and Duncan soared over it. A vast and verdant forest—I could not guess where, spread out like a carpet. As we passed, a flock of startled birds erupted from the canopy and joined us in flight for a while till they tired. Duncan flew on.

It couldn't be real. None of this could be real. It was a vivid and exquisite dream. A magical fantasy. And yet, from the feel of Duncan's powerful muscles beneath me, from the roar of the wind in my face, and the sharp exhilaration within, I knew that it was real—all of it.

Maybe it would all crash and burn. Maybe I couldn’t stay, but for now? I was going to enjoy the ride.