Page 5 of Emerald Waves (Primordial Protectors #2)

Bubbles foamed, while I sat there trying to remember the last time I’d seen him outside of it, my mind finally landing on a firm, never. Had that been because he didn’t come out or was it because I’d never noticed him. I hoped it wasn’t that second part.

Regardless of if I’d missed him, or if he’d become a complete shut in over the years, I intended to get him out more and see to it that he had more in his life than what was inside these walls.

As important as his work was, it wasn’t fair of anyone, least of all the dragon protectors he’d been striving to help, to expect it to be the only thing he had in his life. And we didn’t.

I didn’t.

But man had we done a piss poor job of making sure he knew that.

I checked the temperature and deemed it hot enough but not too hot to scald him, before returning to his bedroom to see him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking deep in thought.

He smiled up at me, almost hesitantly, when I stepped through the doorway, letting out a little eep when I crossed the room and swept him up into my arms.

Wasn’t that what humans did when they were married? Carried their mates over the threshold? Or did that just apply when they were entering the home of the dwelling they intended to inhabit together.

Oh shit.

I hadn’t even thought about the living situation.

Would he find it disruptive to his work, and even a bit controlling, to ask him to move into my home with me? It would become our home then, but what right did I have to ask him to leave his and join me?

Should I ask to move in here, with him?

How would that work?

Would he see it as an invasion?

I was probably getting ahead of myself again. For all I knew, not all mates lived together. Maybe I was taking too human of a view of things.

Focus on the bath I told myself as I carefully undressed him. His face flushed and while I wished to look my fill, that time would come later. For now, I gently lowered him into the water.

“Ohhh, nice,” he murmured, reclining against the back of the tub.

That was perfect. I stroked his hair back and turned to retrieve the washcloth and body wash I’d left on the edge of the sink. While he relaxed and enjoyed the water, I soaped up the cloth and gently began lathering up his arm.

“I’m glad, I didn’t want it to be too hot,” I murmured.

I’d never imagined that bathing someone could be such a sensual thing, but as I rubbed circles along his body with the cloth, I pictured doing it with a sea sponge, soft and still smelling faintly of salt and ocean air.

As I worked my way across his chest, he sighed and sunk a little lower into the tub, giving me the chance to scoop up bubbles and warm water to pour slowly over his head, wetting the strands so I could work the shampoo in.

Slow.

Gentle.

Every movement was careful, so he could just relax and enjoy the moment.

The scent of the bubbles, cashmere and snow, reminded me of winter, as did the cranberry spice shampoo I’d found in his bath caddy.

As I massaged it into his scalp and rubbed it along the strands, it was like branding the feel of it on my fingers.

It was the same way when I returned to washing him.

The curve of his arm, the berth of his chest, his belly, concave and ticklish when I inched near his belly button.

I mapped his form with the cloth and my fingertips, longing for the day when I could trace the same path with my lips and tongue.

Damnit, down dragon.

Harrumph.

Enough with the harrumph. Harrumph is not an answer.

It is an expression of annoyance.

Well, do me a favor and be annoyed somewhere else.

You know as well as I do that there is nowhere else I can go unless you go with me and neither of us is willing to leave our mate.

As for my annoyance, it is with you for constantly assuming that I am the one responsible for the desperation we feel at the need to claim our mate.

I may contribute to it, but an equal portion is your desire too. When will you own up to that?

When he’s clean and has had a meal and a chance to process everything we’ve spoken about tonight. I will not rush him.

Did you not hear him say we had permission to touch him.

Do you not see me touching him.

Oh, I see, now do you see how much he’s enjoying it.

Following his lead, I looked, really looked at our mate.

His eyes had drifted closed, and the places where I washed away the soap shimmered from the tiny, iridescent scales that had formed along his skin since Emerson had begun to listen to his dragon and really hear what he was trying to tell him.

He looked so beautiful floating there that I could picture him on the waves with me, with that peaceful expression on his face, lips gently curved upward as his lashes, long and lightly curling at the ends, fluttered each time he started to open his eyes.

As I worked my way up and down his legs, discovering other ticklish spots behind his knees and on the souls of his feet, he was the picture of bliss.

And I’d put that expression there.

The grimaces of pain that had been etched in his forehead and between his eyes had all smoothed out now, leaving behind nothing but the image of tranquility.

No fluttering hands, no nervous energy, no frantic pacing or ceaseless muttering, there was nothing but ease and relaxation, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

We’d done that, my dragon and me.

Pride and longing filled me as I carefully cleaned his privates and his bottom, rinsed his hair, and got him to sit up so I could wash his back.

Still taking my time and mapping every inch of him while breathing in the scent of soapy water.

A part of me wished that I could wrap us up in one of those bubbles and hide away with him somewhere deep beneath the ocean’s surface, where nothing and no one could ever harm him again.