This is the dragon.
Oh.
I feel a little stupid. Of course it’s the dragon. Claudia said hers turned human, too. I just thought…well, I don’t know what I thought.
It’s startling to see a man standing next to you when a dragon was once nearby, but it can’t be anyone else. Those gold-on-gold eyes flick with a little bit of black and then back to gold again, and I know it’s him. I can’t help but stare. I’m just so surprised at the sight of him.
He’s…handsome.
On second look, he’s not entirely human, of course. That doesn’t surprise me. His skin is a deep, rich shade of bronze that looks to be covered with a shadowy scale pattern of some kind. His body is bigger than any guy I’ve ever seen, and extremely muscular. His biceps are enormous and taut, and I notice that his lower arm seems to have draconic-looking spikes, even in his human form. The spikes continue along his hairline at his temples, neatly holding back the tangle of equally bronze-looking hair on his head. He’s gold on gold on gold, and he’d be breathtakingly beautiful if I didn’t know that he was a dragon.
His face is something else. His features are a little too strong to be completely human, with a nose strong and proud, high cheekbones, and a heavy brow. His jaw is chiseled, though, and his lips look like they’ve been sculpted by one of the greats, back when marble statues filled museums and society mattered. And even from here, I can tell he’s got long, thick lashes. He’s…really easy on the eyes. Really easy.
My eyes could easily travel all the way down the dappled six-pack on his abs, for example, all the way down to his—
I force myself to stay locked with his gaze and put a smile on my face. “So you’re human after all. I was starting to wonder if I was crazy. Or Claudia was crazy, since she was the one who told me you guys shift. But I guess she was right. Can I say I’m relieved?” Oh great, now I’m nervous-talking. It’s a bad habit of mine. I give him an anxious smile.
He smiles back, revealing long, thick fangs and pointed teeth.
Eep. That’s a little more sinister than I care to see. I keep smiling, but it’s a bit more difficult. They’re just teeth, Sasha. They don’t mean anything other than he’s a meat eater. Like, you know, sharks.
Yeah, somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.
I remain in place as he comes around the bathtub and moves to my side. I can’t stop staring at him. I’m just surprised that he looks so very human…and so very not at the same time. It’s fascinating and a little bit eerie, too. Up close, the scent of him wafts over me, and he smells a bit like cinnamon and warm male skin. It’s an unnervingly appealing combination.
He leans in and sniffs me, hard.
I give a little jump of surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry. You just scared me.” I back up against the side of the tub. “I’m just…jumpy, of course. You would be too if you’d been left here with a rotten, burning cow all day.”
The dragon-man ignores my little jab and puts his hand in my hair. He runs his fingers through it, and I notice that his hand is tipped with these wicked-looking claws. Double eep. He lifts a handful of my hair to his nose and sniffs, and then rumbles low in his chest.
“I hope that’s a good rumble and not a hungry rumble,” I say, keeping a smile on my face. “Because I’m not much of a mouthful.”
He doesn’t seem to pay any attention to my words, just leans in closer.
“Boy, you’re not very good with personal space, are you?” I say nervously. I step back again, but I’m running out of room to step back in. A few more feet and I’m going to be against the wall. Still, if all he wants to do is sniff my hair…I’ve had worse.
The dragon-man does sniff my hair again. But then he leans in and buries his face against my neck, inhaling even deeper.
I muffle my little shriek of surprise and do my best to stay still, because I don’t want to make him mad. “This is just you getting to know me, right? Right. We’ll go with that for now.”
Of course, that thought goes out the window a moment later. He licks the column of my neck, long and hard, and I wince. His tongue is as raspy and sandpapery as it was when he licked my wound. It’s not entirely unpleasant against unbroken skin, but it’s awful friendly.
All of him is awful, awful friendly, including the hard dick that I’m pretty sure is pushing up against my hip. Yeah. I’m no innocent. I can guess where all this sniffing is going. Claudia said her dragon wanted a mate. I guess this one does, too.
And I don’t know what to do. I’ve sold myself to Tate in the past for money and for help surviving, but that was because I was desperate, and it was only one person. I hated myself each and every time I did. I’m not sure how I feel about selling myself to a dragon.
Scratch that. I know how I feel. I’m utterly and completely terrified.
He keeps sniffing at my hair, caressing my skin, and generally invading my space. It’s uncomfortable to be the object of such intense fixation, especially considering he’s naked. I don’t know what to do; I certainly don’t want to piss him off considering he can turn into a fire-breathing dragon. But I worry all this touching is going to head in an unpleasant direction if I don’t speak up.
I gently pull away, keeping a fixed, friendly smile on my face. “Thank you for the water. It’s really nice of you.” And when that doesn’t elicit a response, I take another step away. “So, do you speak English?”
He cocks his head, studying me, and then moves away. I rub my arms, relieved to see him go. That was a little too close for comfort, and he’s far too unpredictable. I wish he’d say something. Anything. It would take away a bit of the strangeness and uncertainty, but he’s completely silent.
As I watch, the dragon-man moves to the big stewpot and sticks his hand in. He scoops up a handful of congealed stew and turns, offering it to me.
Oh. Um. I guess we don’t have bowls. I put my hands out.
He ignores them and steps forward, raising his hand toward my face. It’s clear he doesn’t intend on passing off the food. Okay. I guess dragons feed their friends with their hands? Or something? I try to pick a chunk of meat out, but when he makes a low growl in his chest and pushes his hand toward my face again, I decide it’s not worth the fight and lean in.
This might be the weirdest meal I’ve ever had. I gingerly nibble at one of the larger chunks, but I’m starving and the stew is delicious, even if it’s cold. I soon forget that I’m eating out of a stranger’s hand and hold onto his wrist as I eat, wolfing down the food. By the time it’s gone, I’m still hungry and I have to resist the urge to lick the grease off his fingers.