Page 50 of Nine-Tenths

"Asking permission would have been nice," I agree, leaning into Dav as we wait for the traffic lights to change. "Consent is sexy."

"Indeed." He slips an arm over my shoulders. His fingers ghost over the puncture wounds—now dime-sized red dots, slowly shading to white. "Though I did like the pictures themselves. But that's not what I mean."

"Then what?"

"I worry what might be said."

I look up at him. The streetlight lines all his sweet edges in amber. "You think you'll get in trouble?"

"I think I am a dragon who has been forbidden from service, photographed in a café serving humans."

"But notreally," I push.

"I am seen to be employed, Colin." He rolls his bottom lip in and bites it once, nervous, then seems to catch himself at it and lets it go. "That may be enough."

Rage frazzles up in me so fast, I actually gasp. I'd forgotten I was still so goddamn angry that Dav's own family says he's supposed to be small and disposable. Dav's one of the kindest, most emotionally aware, and thoughtful people on the planet. It'scruel.

"They'rethatserious about you just being a soldier and sitting around waiting for orders to go out and, I don't know, fuckingdiein some pointless bloody trench?"

"Peace, darling," Dav says softly, and leans down to gift me with a gentling kiss. It's chaste, and peters off into little pecks at the corner of my lips. We end up missing the light entirely, standing in the soft, breathless summer night.

"Don't think calling me pet names is gonna make me any less pissed," I tell him when we finally separate, a whole cycle of red lights later, and cross. I reach out and hook my pinkie finger around his. It's fucking twee, but it's kind of our thing now. In his other hand he carries a tote, which he's been keeping secret from me all day.

As we walk, Dav's face scrunches. His shoulders ride up, and his grip gets uncomfortably tight. A flush of red climbs up his neck from the collar of his dress shirt—unbuttoned three holes, the unrepentant hussy—and the next time we pass under astreetlamp, I can see it's not a blush, but the first prick of red scales.

"Whoa, okay," I say, and tug us to a stop. "What's going on?"

"I… I just…" he lets go of me and presses his hand against his chest. "I can't stop thinking… they're going to be soangry, especially after—" he cuts himself off with a hard gasp, and I don't have time to askafter whatas I press my own hand over his, lacing our fingers together. His teeth are suddenly sharper. "I should never have, I shouldnever—"

"Okay, stop, stop," I shush him. "Come on now, big breath in, follow me. Good, in, two three… out two three. Hey. I'm here. Look at me, hey." I thread my hands through his hair, press my palms against his ears—lengthening into points—blocking out the rest of the world. He drags his eyes up, slowly, stopping to stare at pieces of me, to latch onto the buttons of my Henley, the notch of my collarbone, my bottom lip, before he meets my gaze. "Another breath, in, in, in, out, out, out, out. Hey, you're good."

The red fades. Under my fingers, the shells of his ears shrink and smooth. The fangs recede. His pupils round out a little. Slowly, carefully, I rock up on the tips of my toes and kiss him. This is a comfort kiss, slow drags and little soothing noises.Hello, I'm here with you. I'm here.

"It's already done," I say gently. "Whatever they think, whatever happens now, it's already done."

"I know."

"And you enjoy it, making humans happy?"

"Yes," he says fiercely. "Very much."

"Then we'll deal with what comes next when it comes."

"We?"

"It was my idea, wasn't it?" I ask, rubbing my other hand through my hair. Ugh, sweaty. Maybe I can convince Dav to have a shower with me. No, knowing my luck, I'd slip and crack myhead open. "If you end up in the shit, I'll stand in it right there next to you."

Dav huffs a scrunch-nosed laugh. "Charming image."

Chapter Fifteen

I'd cleaned, okay? I just want that to be clear. I knew he was coming over, and I'd cleaned. While Dav helps himself to the kitchen cabinets, I order a pizza. It's not what we planned, but good enough is good enough.

He meets me in the living room with the only two soap-spotted but perfectly usable wine glasses I own, and the Grape & Wine Festival promotional "yay guy" opener. (Because the arms go up as the little neck twists down and he goesYay! Wine Time!) From his tote, Dav produces a dark wine bottle with a hand-printed label that reads2017 Pinot Noirin one color of sharpie, andMiracle Yearin another, a later addition. The lettering is elegant and old-fashioned, as even and beautiful as my oldnan's, and I realize with a surge of warmth that I'm seeing Dav's handwriting for the first time.

Dav sits primly on the wonky sofa and makes the wine guy go yay. His socks today are boogying grapes. Onatah is already my new best friend and I've never even met her. I slide over until there's no space between our thighs, and Dav un-prims and slumps against me.

"Hi," I say. "You brought me wine from your cellar?"