Chapter 12
Poppy
The house was quiet when we returned. We slipped upstairs without a fuss, holding hands all the while. When we reached Viol’s room, he paused.
“Hey, I know it’s pretty late,” he pointed out. “If you want to go to bed, there’s a spare room down the hall.”
I frowned. After all of that, did he want me to leave?
But then I recalled his comment from earlier.
Me? Really? Of all fucking people?
Instead of letting my anxiety take hold, I chewed on that for a moment. Maybe Viol thought I wanted my own room. If I was firmer in my convictions, he might take me more seriously.
“Um, if you want me to stay here for the night, then sure, I don’t mind using a spare room,” I said. “But um... I think I would like spending some more time together. Kind of like a sleepover.”
Viol’s eyes widened like he’d just won the lottery. “Sure, yeah. Um... come in.”
My heart beat fast as Viol opened the door.
This all felt new and exhilarating, yet also familiar and homey.
As I stepped into Viol’s room, the scent of him enveloped me like a warm blanket.
It permeated the air and all his belongings.
I stopped to drink it in. Cologne, leather, rich alpha muskiness, and unique notes of Viol that words didn’t exist to describe.
My head swam pleasantly, as if I was floating on a cloud.
Viol snorted, though he looked a bit shy. “You wolves love to smell things.”
“Mhm.”
Flustered, he ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, stop it. It doesn’t smell that good.”
“Yes, it does,” I argued. “You’re oblivious to your own scent. It’s neutral to you. But to me...” I paused to inhale another drag. “It’s really wonderful.”
A deep blush erupted on Viol’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and yanked his gaze away from me, then crossed the room to sit on the edge of his bed.
It was only after I’d finished huffing my fill that I examined the rest of Viol’s room. The space was a bit untidy—clothes were tossed across the top of his dresser, a belt strewn on the floor—but it wasn’t the mess that surprised me.
His room was oddly empty. It lacked any distinguishing features. The walls were painted a dark warm gray, and his curtains were black, but that was the extent of his personalization. The only thing that stood out was a large, deep wooden chest at the foot of his bed.
At first I wondered if he’d cleaned up in case he had someone over, but that didn’t make sense since he would’ve tidied the haphazard clothes. Then did it always look like this? Why was it so bare? Where were all the—
“Yo, Poppy.”
I turned to Viol. “Huh?”
“You said something about a sleepover, right?” he mumbled. He sounded unsure, like he’d never said that word before in his life. “You’ll need a change of clothes if you’re staying overnight.”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Ah, yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that. All of my stuff is back at the hotel.” I bit my lip. “Actually, there’s something important I forgot in my suitcase.”
“Is it urgent? I can send someone to fetch it tomorrow morning.”
I rubbed my arm, thinking it over. The item was significant, but it could wait. “No, it’s not urgent. Thank you. But what about clothes?”
“Want me to ask Alaric? I’m sure his clothes would fit you.” Viol made a move to hop off the bed, then stopped. “On second thought, never mind. I don’t want you to smell like fucking baby powder.”
That teased a small laugh out of me. But then I understood his meaning. If Viol didn’t want me to smell like someone or something else, did that mean he enjoyed my scent, too?
As I rolled that thought around in my mind, Viol strode to his dresser. He pulled out an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of dark plaid boxer briefs.
“Is this good?” he asked gruffly. “I know it’s not your style, but...”
My heart rate accelerated. Viol wanted me to wear his clothes?
“No, it’s great,” I insisted, reaching for them. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”
Viol swallowed, then grunted and quickly handed me the clothes. “Bathroom’s... well, you know where it is. Or you can change here. I don’t care either way.”
He said that, but he immediately turned around to offer me privacy. I smiled at his generosity. Everything he did was to make my life easier.
If only he could take that step in other areas...
I quietly shuffled out of my day clothes and slipped into Viol’s borrowed items. The fabric was soft and dry against my skin, and the fabric smelled overwhelmingly of him. I closed my eyes and sucked it into my lungs. The intimacy pulled me into a memory—a solitary safe place when I had none.
I gazed down at the novel image of myself draped in Viol’s clothes. They were so comfortable, like an extension of the embrace we’d shared on the beach. I wanted to burrow into them. Den in them.
“You good?” Viol asked roughly.
“Oh, yes, sorry.”
When he turned around, his eyes were still shut. He slowly peeked one open.
I chuckled. “You’ve already seen me naked before, remember?”
His brows furrowed. “That was different.”
I thought fondly back to the time he helped me wash in the river. At the time, we’d only just met, but even then I felt like I’d known Viol forever. The ease of being by his side was irreplaceable; a feeling I’d never shared with another person except him.
“These are comfy,” I said, tracing my hand over the oversized t-shirt sleeve and down my arm. “Thank you.”
Viol swallowed again as he watched my hand. “It’s fine.” He hesitated. “You look good in them.”
His compliment shot straight into my chest, making my heart flutter. He was always so kind.
“Thank you.”
Viol stared at me for a couple more seconds, then quickly stripped out of his leather jacket. Unlike the rest of his strewn-about clothes, he took the time to hang it properly in his closet. Then he undid his belt and threw it on the closet floor.
“You good if I’m in my underwear?” he called over his shoulder.
“I thought we were going to sleep,” I said, amused. “Don’t you always sleep in your underwear?”
He huffed, then kicked off his pants. Out of respect, I made an effort not to glance at his lower half. Not like I’d never seen it before, either.
“So, um...” I pointed to a stretch of floor without any clothes on it. “Is here okay?”
Viol raised a brow. “Okay for what?”
“Sleeping.”
His brows furrowed harder. “The hell are you talking about, Poppy?”
“When I sleep? I didn’t bring a sleeping bag or anything, so—”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” Viol stated.
“I—I’m not? But I thought you didn’t want me in the other room.”
Viol groaned. “I’m giving you the bed, you fuckin’ dork!”
My mouth dropped open. Then I shook my head, flustered. “N-no, I’m sorry, I can’t take it! It’s your bed!”
Viol ground his teeth. He marched over to me, looming like an aggressively benevolent shadow. “Get in the bed, Poppy.”
Heat rose to my face. There was no squirming out of his offer. I understood that much. But I didn’t answer right away because I liked his position. The way he towered over me with his broad, exposed shoulders. The closeness of his warm body.
Viol pulled away before I did. He cleared his throat. “Only if you’re ready to sleep, I mean. I don’t control your life,” he muttered, backing off.
I smiled, entertained by his belligerent kindness. “It is pretty late. And it was a long day...”
A pang of guilt crossed Viol’s face, but he didn’t comment.
I sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing my hand over the comforter.
Unlike the messy room, Viol’s bed was tidy and clean.
Sitting on it filled me with a budding sense of anticipation.
It wasn’t a generic hotel bed—this was his bed.
The one he slept in every single night. The one he dreamed in, among other things. ..
The lingering blush in my cheeks burned hotter.
“Guess I’ll set up my shit,” Viol mumbled.
He left the room to gather bedding materials, then returned with arms full of stolen couch cushions and blankets.
He threw them on the floor next to the bed and kicked them into place.
It was a makeshift bed if I ever saw one, but Viol didn’t complain as he plopped down on the couch cushions.
“Toss me a pillow, will you, Poppy?” he asked, glancing up at me. I was so used to his height that it felt odd looking down at him on the floor.
I gathered one of the two pillows against the headrest and handed it to Viol.
He grunted gratefully. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Do you want anything else?” I offered, gently probing.
Viol arched a brow. “What?”
There was something missing.
“You don’t want a plushie?” I asked.
His eyes flashed. Then he collapsed on the cushions with a grunt, his back to me. “C’mon, you know I’m too old for that shit...”
“Huh?” I said, genuinely surprised. “But you love your plush toys.”
An uncomfortable, embarrassed noise squeaked out of him. “I told you, I’m too old for that! I don’t need to hug a damn plushie to sleep anymore.”
I stared at him in confusion. Why was he acting like he was too good for his own hoard? It made no sense for a dragon to be ashamed of their passion.
As if confirming the coast was clear, Viol glanced over his shoulder, but when he saw my unbroken gaze, he jolted.
“What?” he blurted.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’re lying,” I admitted.
Viol’s jaw dropped.
I turned towards the large chest at the foot of the bed. “They’re in there, aren’t they?”
Somehow, Viol’s face turned pale yet flushed at the same time. “No,” he said defensively.
I looked at him.
He was quick to change his tune. “Ugh, fine. I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Why are you hiding your hoard?”
“Because it’s childish and embarrassing, all right?” he snapped.
I frowned. Where did that sentiment come from?
“I’ve never thought that, Viol,” I said softly. “You know I’ve always admired your passion for your hoard. Besides, plushies are just plain cute. I’ll never forget the first time I saw one.” I smiled at him. “When I met Wolfy.”