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Chapter Eighteen

M in-soo finds Pedra's social media profiles, but they’re locked down and there's no way to message her. By the time I get to the pharmacy, Pedra’s left for the day, and her employers won't give me her phone number no matter how much I beg. She's in the goddamned wind and we’re screwed .

Dav is fretting so badly that Hadi tells him to go. We both agree that it wouldn’t be wise for Dav to be alone right now, so I take him back to my place. When we get there, a small leather carry-all is waiting on the porch.

"How'd this get here?" I ask as he sets it on the sofa. It's a quaint brown Gladstone bag that could be a hundred years old for all I know.

"I have staff," he says stiffly, as if each word is gagging him.

"Right," I say and leave it at that.

Fine. He'll talk or not, and I'm not going to get my head snapped off for trying to make conversation.

We eat cold leftovers in silence, take turns in the shower, and even though it's just approaching sunset, we curl up in my bed.

After a few tense minutes, we give in to the urge to hold on to each other.

This is nice.

This is better than snapping. This is physical connection, warmth and safety, but no need to talk. We're facing each other, ankles hooked. Our damp hair leaves wet patches on the pillow we share. Dav's got his pinkie finger wrapped around mine.

I stay still and let him look at me. It's not a gaze of adoration, or even of lust. He looks like there's a math equation written on my forehead, and he's sure he should have the answer but he doesn't know how to get there.

I guess it’s got him stumped, because he asks, "Why are you here?"

"This is my bed."

He rolls his eyes, but it makes him smile, so I count it as a point on my scorecard.

"You know what I mean."

With my free hand, I reach out and push his hair back from his face. It clings to my fingers like fine-spun spider silk. "You're hot."

Dav snorts. "Hardly."

"It's my opinion that matters in this case, not yours."

"I'll concede to that."

"I like how you talk as if we're in a historical romance."

The corner of Dav's mouth twitches up. "We can't all speak like incomprehensible meme-masticating machines."

"There, see? Just like that." I shuffle closer, sliding my hand between his shoulder blades, holding him in place. "I like that you give a shit about people."

"That's draconic instinct," Dav says. "Nothing I can help."

"Doesn't mean I can't still like it."

Dav hums, disagreeing with me.

"And, ah, the way you look at me."

Dav scowls. "Creepily?"

"When you just sat at that table and said nothing, yeah. But now, I just… I can tell that you want me."

Dav's frown deepens. "Those are all things about my attraction to you making you feel desirable. Is there nothing about me that you like?"

"Ouch. Got me right in the Rules."

He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. "I’ve told you why I want you. But that's not the same as you choosing it for yourself. My interest doesn't mean you must reciprocate."

"I dunno, I like you, okay? Do we have to think that hard about this? You're a decent person, and you give a shit about other people, and you like me. I guess it's… I asked you to read me a love story in the hospital, and you didn't laugh at me. Isn't that a good place to start?"

"Colin," Dav with sudden and urgent intensity. "You have to be sure."

"Why?" I ask, sitting up.

"Because… because I don't know what's coming." He levers himself up, too. "I can't ask you to… to be a part of it if you have any doubts."

"Well holy shit, we're just barely dating," I splutter. Dav flushes up, but it's not the cute blush—it's mottled and mortified. "You're talking like this is a forever thing."

"Colin—"

"Hold on, is this a forever thing? Are we accidentally dragon-married?"

"Don't be absurd," Dav snorts.

"How is it being absurd?" I snap back. "I don’t know where you live, I know nothing about your family, I don't know shit about you."

Slimy fear drops into my guts. It's mixed with worry and confusion, not just for Dav, but suddenly for me, too. He’s rattled, and he won't tell me why . I’m just now realizing that I could be collateral damage.

Miserable, Dav lays his hands on my shoulders. "I have been as open as I felt was safe."

"For who?" I challenge. "For you? Or are you trying to protect me, too?"

"Of course."

"How can I be protected if I don’t know what it’s from ? You're talking like it's gonna come for me, too, just because we're a thing. But you won't say what it is? Well, fuck that." I crabwalk to the edge of the bed, and clamber to my feet.

"Colin, please," Dav says, reaching for me. I know how fast he is. If he wanted to grab my wrist, he would. He just doesn't care enough to.

Or he's respecting your right to back away.

Shut up, I tell the little voice in my head. Who's side are you on, anyway?

I head for the front door, don't even bother with my shoes, and slam it open.

On the porch, I turn in a circle, wipe my palms on my thighs, scrub my hands through my hair, let out a loud, furious growl, and then slump down.

The cement is cool under my ass, and now that I've finished my temper tantrum, the late-evening air is uncomfortably bracing.

Dav looked so hurt.

Aw, fuck.

Dipshit, I think as soon as the first wash of fresh air cycles through my lungs. Weren't you just vowing that you’d wade through the sewage with him?

I groan and hide my face in my knees. I hadn’t known he would ask me to ride or die, but that doesn’t change the fact that we are here because he did something that may get him in deep shit because I asked him to.

I'm an asshole. And because Dav deserves the chance to agree with me, I go back into the house to tell him so. Also, I love him, so there's fucking that.

Dav's jamming the things he had spread across the sofa into his bag.

"I'm an asshole," I tell him. "And I overreacted."

Dav grunts, jaw clenched, agreeing without saying so. He's got such nice manners that I want to mess him up. Rip buttons off his shirts, make him drool, throw him to the floor and give him rug burn.

"Hey." I flex my fingers to keep from grabbing him, forcing him to look at me. "You wanted to know if I was in this enough to stand beside you for it?"

"I take the answer is no?" he sneers, eyes resolutely on the clasp twisting shut.

"It’s yes, you absolute meatloaf!" I shout back.

"Jesus fucking Christ on a motherfucking pogo stick.

Fuck me sideways on every second Sunday, but the goddamned answer is yes .

" I throw my hands up to the sky, begging the Lord whose name I'm taking in vain to strike me with lightning if I’m lying.

"I don't know what I'm signing up for, but here's my fucking signature. The answer is y—"

Dav's tongue in my mouth jams up the last of that sentence.

"You don't have to." He pulls back to let me breathe, to rearrange myself from the startled flail into something pressed up against his chest, hot and hard. "I wouldn't blame you."

"Don't go trying to talk me out of it now," I protest.

"What about your Rules," Dav says when I start backing him up toward my bedroom.

"You've made your interest explicit, you're not a charming narcissist, as far as I can tell, and three doesn't count because I haven't even got you naked yet and I already lo—" I stop, jerking my head up from where I was working on his belt buckle. "Uh," I finish stupidly.

He presses a lingering kiss on my temple that's so tender that my lungs squeeze. I splay my hands on his waist, gentle. Not possessive, but absolutely sure of my welcome.

"Uuuuuhhhhhnk," I reply, not sure what to say next.

"Rule four?" Dav prompts gently, taking a step back, fingers hooked in my belt loops, tugging me along after him.

"We are working it out," I reply, too breathless with the feel of the back of every single one of Dav's fingers pressed against the sensitive skin below my belly button. Every atom of my skin feels sensitized. "Five… five and soulmates…"

Dav looks hunted, realizing what he's started. How serious this has gotten, and how quickly. It's a sweet revenge. I shove him back onto the bed, and he lands like a slutty starfish, open and ready.

"Let's leave the last three rules on the other side of the bedroom door for now."

"Let's," Dav agrees, relieved, and reaches for me greedily.

Look, I’m skinny, with a soft stomach, big ears, and hair that will never be tame. But Dav thinks I'm hot, so I shuck my shirt before letting him pull me down into the cradle of his thighs.

I like sex.

I might even be good at it.

And if not good, at least well-educated.

I'm not super cut or have a massive dick, so I have made it a point to absorb the best the Internet offers: Oh Joy Sex Toy , and Make Love Not Porn , and Dr. Nerdlove .

I may have trouble picking up, but once I have someone between my sheets?

I make sure that's where they want to stay.

Call me a greedy bisexual, but what I really am is a master of my trades.

Coffee and orgasms: I'll make your eyes roll back with both.

Which is why all the breath is startled out of me when Dav rolls us over.

He twists with his knees, and pushes with his thighs, and suddenly his arms are under my back and my head is on the pillow and I am absolutely dizzy.

Partially because it’s a slick move (he's so strong!

Holy shit!) And partially because I am suddenly so fucking hard I have no idea how I'm going to get my jeans off.

Dav does, though. He slides to the end of the bed, and pulls his shirt off, leaving his hair standing up. He makes short work of our pants, quick and efficient. He even folds up my underwear when he sets it on my desk chair, oh my god, how is he real .

Then I get to see him from top to (currently not on display) tail for the first time. His shoulders are dusted with more freckles, and his body hair is so ginger it's like spun copper. I want to lick every millimeter of his soldier-strong thighs. I want to suck him. I want him to fuck me so bad .

Part of me wondered what his dick would be like, if it would have scales, or knots, or a pointed head like they show in the kinky draconic porn.

But except for his eyes, his tongue, and his absent belly-button, when he's in his human body, he’s completely human.

His cock is perfect, uncut and proportioned to the rest of him.

It looks like it would reach all the good spots just right.

"My body is ready," I proclaim.

Dav chuckles and slides one finger up my thigh, behind my balls. "Not quite ready. May I?"

"Oh, yes please ," I blurt. I twist around to get at the bedside drawer, find the little tin box filled with bottles of lube and condoms—are they expired? No. Excellent!—Do dragons get STIs?—Question for later—and Dav takes them out of my hands.

Nice .

"Destroy me." I shove a pillow under my ass.

Dav stalks up my body, and presses his chest to mine so he can get at my mouth. He kisses me hot, and possessive, and dirty. I'm not whimpering. I don't whimper.

I totally whimper.

"Allow me to serve you, instead," Dav pants, and my hips snap up to mash against his without any elegance or say-so from me, because you know what?

That's the fucking sexiest thing I've ever heard in my whole-ass life.

"Yes, yes, yes," I pant, sex-stupid and unable to think about multisyllabic words.

Dav's face is suddenly between my legs, and his genius forked tongue is everywhere and I have never felt so worshiped.

Dav is making that growl-purr noise of delight, my own breath is harsh in the sex-thick air, and the gentle click of the lube cap is the perfect counterpoint to our song.

"You're amazing," I whimper, arm thrown over my eyes. "You're incredible."

I love you. I'm so worried that the thought is going to climb out of my mouth if I let him do this for me that I chivvy him back and take control of my own prep.

"But I want to—"

"I know, next time, I promise, lay down, hold on," I say, twisting an arm behind me to finish what he started.

Dav’s pouting, god help me, but when I swing a leg over his waist, his fingers join mine and do something so fucking illegal that I'm suddenly peaking like a rolling tide.

I love you.

I should tell you.

Not yet.

Soon.

Dav licks his lips smugly while I shiver down from my orgasm, hands splayed over his heart, and streaked with white.

"Satisfied?" he asks.

"Ngk," I reply, unable to do anything but roll my face up to the ceiling. Dav leans forward and nips along my jugular, and even that's gentle and kind, for all that he's deliberately leaving marks.

Possessive bastard.

I regain enough brain cells to line us up and bear down.

"Best makeup sex ever," I hiss into his ear, and everything is too much, and sloppy, and humid, and I love him .

"I'm happy to fight with you every day, if this is how we apologize." Dav moans, smearing the vow into my stomach. The shudder that wrings out of me is obscene.

"I'd rather not," I pant. I circle my hips to encourage him to get the fuck on with it already. "Although, I still want to know what you meant by 'I've done it again'."

"Lord above, Colin," Dav hisses, clutching my thighs. "Can we please save that discussion for later?"

"But you will tell me?

"Unf."

I clench around him, and Dav yelps.

"Promise?"

"You filthy little cheat," Dav growls. I squeeze again. "I promise! You’ll be the death of me."

"Most likely."

"You minx, I'm supposed to be serving you ," Dav says, struggling back up to his elbows.

I grin and pinch his nipple. "Then get on with it."

Dav gets on with it.

You'll be happy to know dragons do not spit fire when they orgasm.

I'm not gonna lie, I was worried.