Page 101 of Nine-Tenths

"I'm so impressed you do the thing with the goats. I love the thing with the goats."

"I know," Dav says gently.

The back lane is idyllic, bordered on either side with wildflowers and the chest-height sand-stone walls that intrigued me yesterday.

(Did I only arrive yesterday?)

A field of vibrantly green grain waves gently in the midmorning breeze. The world smells of evaporating dew and fresh country air. It’s filled with the soft bleats of the goats and the tinkle of the antique bells strung around their necks, the hum of bugs whose names I don't know, but I bet Dav does, and the distant white-noise of the traffic beyond Dav's insulating walls.

It's romantic as fuck, so I reach out and snag Dav's pinkie finger with mine.

His answering smile is like the bright crescent of the sun during an eclipse.

Dav explains the terroir of the grapes, and how land has always been worked the same way here, mostly because he's a stick-in-the-mud. The exception being only the stuff that made it easier on his workers themselves, like introducing machinery as it was invented. Although, he admits, he has made some sweeping alterations of late to take advantage of the new understandings in sustainability.

The goats are left to their own devices, trained to wander home when it's milking time. Our ramble eventually leads us back to the house, where this mysterious cook has left a buffet onthe kitchen counters. I meet more farmhands (I'm never gonna remember all these names) filling their plates and taking them outside to enjoy.

And through all of this, I can't get the thought of scales and tails out of my head. And yeah, okay, some of the thoughts are kinky—hello, I read draconic historical romances like they're going out of style—but mostly I just wonder what Davlookslike. By the time we've had lunch, and we've taken a wagon ride out to the middle of the vineyard with Luiz and his teenaged son Diego to tie off the new growth, I’m a man obsessed.

The second Diego and Luiz are out of hearing range, I blurt out: "Hey, can I see you? Is that a weird thing to ask?" I tack on at the last second, because I remember how strongly he reacted to my request to even visit this place.

"You do see me," Dav says as he ties a vine to the guide-wire.

"No, I mean the…" I don't sayreal you, because the humanshape version of Dav is just as real as the draconic one. "The scaly you."

It takes Dav a second to process what I'm asking. When he gets it, his whole face does the complicated wriggle I can't interpret, and the sides of his face flush red with little scales.

"Not now!" I hiss.

"Oh, no, certainly not," Dav says in a low gravelly rumble, and he cuts his eyes over at the others. I've asked for something sexier than I realize, according to the expression that finally settles on his face.

"But it's okay? To ask?" I check in.

"For you? Yes."

"And it's okay to show me?"

"Yes," Dav husks. The smolder he levels at me would keep him employed as a romance book cover model for years.

I swallow hard, and my throat is so dry it clicks. I reach for the water bottle Luiz had tossed at our feet and take a few strongpulls, trying to ignore the feel of Dav's eyes on my neck, the line of my arms. He takes his turn with the bottle and I turn away from the others to adjust the lay of my jeans as subtly as I can.

"Hey, slackers!" Diego calls. "Stop whispering sweet nothings! We want to get back in before the sun sets, eh?"

Dav and I hop to like naughty teenagers caught beneath the bleachers with their hands down each other's pants.

"After dinner," Dav says softly.

"Okay." Excitement, anticipation, and a small, hard ball of fear churn in my guts. Fear of what, I'm not sure. That maybe this will change everything? That maybe Mum was right, and I’ll realize that we're too different, too late? That maybe it will changenothing?

I've never seen a dragon in the flesh. I have no idea how it will make me feel. What I do know is that I love Dav, no matter which skin he's in, and no matter what stupid rules his culture imposes on our relationship. I love him. And he loves me.

And goddammit, that's going to be enough.

When we get in from the field, Sarah informs us that our supper is waiting for us in the formal dining room.

"That's not necessary—" Dav starts, and I’m relieved to see that Sarah’s comfortable interrupting him.

"It's getting cold. Go on, sir. Quick-time."