Chapter 6
ísarr
Storms always rocked me to sleep, and after mentally doing battle with something very bad, I’d needed the rest. It was hard to explain what had happened.
Certainly, it was not an excuse. I’d messed up, badly.
I should have woken at dawn, shifted, and gone back inside, ready for my guest. Ready to get her out of my life as quickly as possible.
I hadn’t, though; I’d slept far longer than I normally did, cradled by snow and ice, proudly satisfied for chasing off that evil presence and protecting my mate.
Now we were here: Bianca standing on my porch—beautiful and pink-cheeked—staring straight into my eye.
My dragon eye. I wasn’t sure what to do.
I’d looked, and now she knew it wasn’t just snow and ice lying in my yard.
If I moved, I’d frighten her. If I shifted?
I’d probably frighten her just the same.
I didn’t know what to do, and for a moment, I was tempted to try to find a telepathic path to the only ally in the vicinity.
Only one male around here knew exactly what it was like to be caught with your scales out: Chardum, the other dragon of Hillcrest Hollow, the capable one. Unlike me. The failure.
That burned, so I didn’t do anything but lie there.
I was the one frozen, not her, as it turned out.
She had stopped screaming and placed her hands on her hips to stare at me some more.
She was muttering about being asleep, still dreaming.
When she went as far as to theorize that she was having hallucinations and was really lying somewhere, freezing to death in the storm, I couldn’t take it anymore.
She wasn’t running, that had to be good enough.
I shifted, my body folding in on itself in the strangest way.
It was all light and air, flicking a switch and whoosh, gone dragon; hello, human body.
Much smaller now, the snow and ice that had collected against my body began to collapse, though some of it remained upright like a strange igloo around where my front paws and chest had been.
Almost, I didn’t look at Bianca but walked off into the woods, out of her way.
It was very tempting to do that, avoid the confrontation and just…
disappear. She was still standing on my porch, though, hands on her hips, mouth open in shock, her ice-blue eyes locked on my face.
Ah, right. I’d taken off the helmet last night, so she was now able to see the horns rising from my forehead.
Most shifters could completely transform themselves to hide their alter ego—especially dragons.
My kind was supposed to be extremely good at concealing our true nature.
Unfortunately, they’d passed me over when it came to that skill.
Not only could I not control my ice powers—risking freezing people if they got too close—but I also couldn’t pull all of my more dragon-like traits beneath the surface.
My skin stayed a bit too blue, my eyes a bit too reptilian, and my horns?
They just shrank to fit my human head, but that was it.
She was bold enough to meet my gaze without flinching, without lobbing questions or saying stupid things.
It felt like she was simply waiting for me to make the first move.
I hated that, and it made me surly. All I did was hide, make my art and my furniture, and read my books.
I knew absolutely nothing about conversation, let alone giving a human the “talk.”
So, of course, what came out of my mouth was the stupidest thing ever: “Are you hungry?” Like that was important at a time like this.
Her stomach was the last thing she’d be thinking about.
After facing a real dragon, she had probably lost all appetite.
Actually, maybe she thought I wanted to eat her for breakfast now—which I did, just not in the way she was probably thinking.
I was pretty certain that spreading her on my table and feasting between her thighs was out of the question, for now. Forever.
Her answer, when it came, was softly spoken. Like she wasn’t quite sure she was saying it out loud. The smile, though, was genuine, spreading like a sunrise over her face. “Breakfast with a dragon? I can do that.” Then, after a startled pause: “Tell me I’m not crazy? Tell me your name?”
My name? For a moment, my mind blanked. She didn’t know my name?
Had I not told her that when I let her into my cabin during the storm yesterday?
No. With shame burning my mind, I knew I hadn’t.
I’d been so focused on how dangerous it was to let her in that I hadn’t once remembered my manners.
I had those once—I knew that—they were buried somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind.
“It’s ísarr,” I said, voice husky and gruff.
“Go inside before you catch a cold.” When I took a step toward her, snow and ice crumbled around me, losing more of the shape it had formed around my dragon body.
I thought she’d flinch or retreat, but she waited for me until I reached the porch, chin tilted up, eyes surprisingly calm and placid.
They reminded me of my favorite pond in winter, when it was frozen over.
I reached past her head to put my hand on the door behind her.
She did flinch then, but just with her eyes, blinking.
I inhaled deeply, and her scent struck me: floral, silky, sweet.
My cock hardened in my pants, eager to touch her, eager to taste her.
She tilted her chin up, staring at me, and the passion sizzled out when I realized she was looking at my horns.
“So those are real?” she asked, and my breath froze in my chest. This was not going right, was it?
This was so far outside of my comfort zone, I had no idea what to do or say. So I just grunted a half-assed yes.
She still did not step back, didn’t get herself out of the cold and into my home. When I pushed the door open, I realized the cold air rushing out, while definitely warmer than outside, was still far too cold for her fragile human body. I’d forgotten to tend to the fire throughout the night.
“Did I really see that? What are you?” she insisted on asking.
Did she have no sense of self-preservation?
Why was she asking me these questions when she was starting to shiver from the cold on the spot?
I took another step, our boots touching on the snow-covered porch.
Why wasn’t she responding like she should?
Now I was looming over her, and she had to tip back her head to keep staring.
All she could possibly see was the edge of my chin, but that did not seem to deter her.
“Get inside, Bianca,” I said to her, not certain why that was so important.
Possibly, she didn’t want to go because it would feel like getting trapped, and I started to reconsider.
She didn’t act scared, didn’t smell scared either, so what was I supposed to do?
Her mouth tilted in a smile—one that only grew wider—and I really didn’t know what to make of that.
I did know that she was cold, and if she would not help herself and get indoors, I’d have to help her.
For what was possibly the first time in years, I made an attempt to wrest my powers into some semblance of control.
No, control wasn’t the right word—I’d never managed that—but it wasn’t because I couldn’t make them do what I wanted.
It was just that they did whatever they wanted, even when I didn’t want to use them.
Particularly during a snowstorm like the one we’d had during the night.
On an inhale, I drew cold air deep into my lungs, pulling it away from Bianca’s body right in front of me.
I could not heat the air around her exactly, but I could take the ice out of it and keep the brisk wind from touching her.
It helped, I could see that the tremble she tried to hide eased up.
Now, if only I could believe that I wouldn’t turn her into an ice cube by accident down the line.
I needed to call Jackson again, make him come pick her up. Then she’d be safe.
Safe? There was a niggle at the back of my mind that reminded me she had not been safe last night.
There had been danger in our dreams, and the danger had been far greater to her than to me.
My instinct was to pull her close, to get her into my cabin and behind the protections where I kept my hoard.
My rational mind kept telling me that was a terrible idea.
I needed her safe, but safe from me, or safe from everyone else?
The woman in question crossed her arms over her chest, chin up in a stubborn way that set my blood on fire.
“I’m fine. Just tell me what I saw was real, please?
” I shrugged helplessly, then nodded, but it was not what she wanted, apparently.
Her brow furrowed over her eyes; her smile had slipped away, and I missed it already.
Enough, she had me all twisted up, and we’d barely had a conversation. My fault, not hers, obviously.
If she wouldn’t do the smart thing and move inside where I could light a fire for her, I’d move her myself.
It was rash, it was impulsive, but I had her by her arms before I could think better of it.
“Go inside,” I said again, and I turned her bodily, then gave her a gentle push, and finally, she started walking.
I followed closely—perhaps too close—but it was instinct to herd her where I wanted her to go.
Then I pulled the door shut on the cool, fresh wind, circled around her, and hurried for my stove.
Fire, a hot drink, blankets. She was probably going to need all of that.
Focusing on tasks rather than my screw-up helped, and this way I could pretend she wasn’t still staring at me.
I couldn’t imagine what she was feeling, scared, confused?
I should smell those things, but her scent was so sweet and pleasant, distracting.
It didn’t hold the heavy notes of the more intense emotions I’d expect.
Maybe I was out of practice. After all, I hadn’t really been around people for so long, let alone humans.
Had I forgotten what emotions smelled like?
At the stove, I piled kindling and wood the same way I’d been doing for centuries.
Then, before I could think better of it, I leaned in and blew a spark of flame into the wood.
What did it matter, anyway? She’d already seen my dragon and knew that I had real horns growing from my damn forehead.
Might as well let her see that, like any respectable dragon, I could manage to blow a spark.
When I rose and turned to look at her, I realized the room was rather dark.
The shutters were still closed all around the cabin, and I hadn’t flicked on any lights, my eyes didn’t need them.
Bianca stood by the door as if she were still waiting for her eyes to adjust. She might not even have seen my trick with the fire, and now I wasn’t sure if I was upset about that or not.
My head was a mess; she was making it spin just by being here.
Right, Jackson. I needed my phone so I could call him and take her away.
Then this would all be over, and things could return to my quiet, normal life.
Only… it wouldn’t be the same for Bianca, not after I messed up and she saw the other side of me.
She couldn’t leave knowing that, could she?
Sure, we didn’t live in the whole pitchforks-and-burning-at-the-stake era any longer, but that didn’t make the knowledge of what I was any less dangerous. Did it?
Then, incongruously, the scent of fear finally hit me.
It wafted from her—bitter and sharp—and made my gut twist with guilt, certain it was my fault she feared what she’d seen.
It was finally sinking in. I froze by the crackle and pop of the burning fire, unwilling to make it any worse.
Then her trembling voice rose in the air between us: “ísarr, the darkness… I know it’s silly, but I had this really bad nightmare last night. ”
She wasn’t scared of me. That fear was about what had happened to both of us in our sleep. The darkness. Those words erased any doubt about how I was supposed to keep her safe. I was across the room in seconds.