Chapter 5 #2
The dragon stills as if I’ve surprised him, and then he nods his huge head.
Then he slowly inclines his head, and I realise he’s bowing to me.
It’s a courtly gesture, and I hesitate for a second and bow in return.
He makes a pleased snicker, and holding my breath, I reach out my hand and daringly lay it on his snout.
The scales are hot beneath my fingers, and rather than being rough, they’re as smooth and silky as a pebble worn down by the sea.
There’s a ripple of movement, and the dragon tosses his head. My hand drops, and I cringe, but he’s only making himself comfortable, and I chuckle as he eases his snout back under my hand, rather like a big dog demanding to be petted. I stroke the snout, looking at him in fascination.
“Sigurd?” I say breathily.
The dragon’s head comes up, and those golden eyes lock on me. He cocks his head.
“I can’t believe it’s you.”
Believe, Cary.
I glance around and then I peer more closely into his eyes. “Did you say that?”
Believe.
I put my hand to my chest, sucking in much-needed air. “You’re talking to me. In my head. How?”
His golden eyes twinkle—looking remarkably like Sigurd’s in human form—and his voice sounds again. Hello, elskling.
It’s as comforting as when he’s a human, and relaxation steals over me, warmth seeping into my body like sinking into a hot bath after a cold day.
“How is this possible?” I say out loud.
Everything is possible, my Cary.
“This is real?”
He cocks his head. What do you think?
“Well, I considered I might be in a coma, but I’d really rather not do that at Christmas, so I’ve opted for yes, it’s real.”
The dragon huffs in amusement, and I watch in fascination as gold and pink sparks shoot out of his nostrils. “That's very pretty,” I breathe.
He nods. Thank you.
“Why did you ask me to stand back? Could you have hurt me?”
The dragon immediately shakes his head solemnly. Never. My fire could never hurt you.
I wonder at his emphasis on that final word. “Really?”
He nods solemnly. I merely worried that the shock might make you fall. You are the only one who could be safe around me when my change happens. It would incinerate anyone else.
“Why me?”
Sigurd doesn’t answer me. Instead, he watches me with those big, golden eyes.
Finally, I shrug. “I have so many more questions.”
Of that I have no doubt.
“Can we talk when you’re not like that? It’s very distracting.”
He makes that soft chuffing noise and then nudges me with his snout, moving me to the edge of the patio in the space he put me in before. “I’m not a sheep,” I say. “It’s like being herded by a stubborn old collie dog.”
He snorts, the pink and gold sparks flaring and twinkling out as they hit the patio, and then he moves back. The haze shimmers around him so bright and strong that I gasp, throwing up my hand to cover my eyes. I hear the same popping, rocket sound, and then his voice says, “You can look now, Cary.”
I lower my hand, and he’s standing there naked and a man once more. A silence drops, and he cocks his head. “Are you speechless now?”
“If it were ever going to happen, you would be the cause.”
He’s staring anxiously at me. “And so now do you run, Cary?” He gives me a kind smile, although his eyes are sad. “I would not blame you at all for that.”
“You wouldn’t?”
He looks astonished. “No, of course not. I would have you happy all the time and never sad.”
“That, unfortunately, is not possible.” I wait a few beats and then shrug. “I should be running, shouldn’t I? And yet…”
His eyes sharpen when I pause. “And yet what?”
I consider his warm eyes and feel that unexplainable sense of comfort I get around him.
I don’t know him from Adam. I only met him yesterday.
Yes, I slept with him, but I do that with a lot of men.
It never leads me to wanting to step into their arms. It never gives me that funny feeling of happiness when I’m near them.
What is it about Sigurd that makes him special?
Ah, yes. He’s a dragon.
I watch him for a few seconds more as my mind races. He makes no move to drive the conversation or plead his case. Instead, he watches me with those golden eyes of his. Dragon eyes.
And then I do what I’ve wanted since the moment I first met him.
I step towards him. His arms rise as if we’re two halves of the same movement, and when I step into them, he encloses me tightly.
I sigh in pleasure at the feel of his warm body.
It seems to heat all the endless cold spots in me.
He warms me from the top of my head to my toes.
I hear an echoing sigh and feel it ruffle my hair, and if possible, he drags me closer.
It's so sweet and strange to be held like this. If this were someone other than Sigurd, I would have pulled away, but now I don’t feel that old headlong rush for space. I hardly recognise myself.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but eventually I stir. “You’re naked and cuddling.”
I can hear the humour in his voice when he speaks. “It is the best way, yes?”
I snuggle closer. “I think you might be right.” I open my mouth to say something else, and I’m horrified when I let out a huge yawn.
He sets me back, his eyes twinkling with humour. “I am glad you did not activate the gravitational pull on that, or I might have been pulled from my feet.”
I snort out a laugh and then yawn again. “I’m so sorry. I’m just suddenly so tired. I feel weary down to my bones.”
It’s the truth. My brain is foggy as though I haven’t slept in a week and my body aches like I’ve just run a marathon. “What’s the matter with me?” I slur.
My ears feel muzzy, like they’re clogged with wool, and I hear his voice from a distance. “’Tis nothing to be afraid of, Cary. It is just that you have been exposed to powerful magic for the first time.”
I yawn again, unable to stop myself. “Is that like catching the clap?” I mumble.
His laughter is deep and rumbly. He pulls me close and kisses my temple.
“Not at all, but it does make you very sleepy. Come, you shall go to bed.”
I settle my weight against him, my eyes closing against my will. “I’ll move in a minute,” I mumble.
The world suddenly tilts, and I force my eyes open. “Oh my god, you’re carrying me.”
“You are exhausted.”
“Well, I don’t need carrying. This is all very emasculating.”
“You shall take it up with the manager when you awake.”
My next yawn feels like it might dislocate my jaw. “You’ll hurt your back.”
“I am a dragon, Cary. I have carried far heavier loads than you.” He kisses my head, and I think I hear him say, “But not one more precious.”
I want to question him, but then I’m being lowered into warm, soft sheets that smell of him. I feel my jeans and jumper being removed, and I give a sigh of pleasure as I roll over and the duvet drifts over me.
“I can’t believe you’re a dragon,” I mumble. “There one minute and then pouf, gone the next.”
He laughs softly and then cards a hand through my hair, the movement soothing. “Sleep well, Cary,” he whispers.
“You won’t leave?”
He stills, and then he murmurs, “I couldn’t even if I wanted to, and I don’t. I will be here. Waiting for you. Come back to me soon.”
Any further questions are lost when I snuggle into the warm sheets and fall asleep.
When I wake, the room is lit by moonlight. It’s bright and cold, touching the dark shapes of furniture and limning them in silver. Sigurd isn’t in the bed beside me. The other side of the mattress is cold, and the pillow shows no one has slept there. Where is he?
I sit up. I’m wide awake now, with none of the earlier fog, and I need to talk to him.
I have so many questions buzzing through my brain.
I marvel for a second that I’m not doubting what I saw.
I should possibly be thinking about checking myself into a hospital for evaluation.
I’d hoped to see some unusual sights on my Cornish holiday, but seeing a dragon was never on the list.
However, I feel a curious lack of panic. It’s as if my whole life I’ve been putting one foot in front of the other, plodding on determinedly, because this was always at the end of my journey—this man and that extraordinary secret.
I climb out of bed and slide into the clothes that he’s thoughtfully folded on the chair.
I make my way out of the bedroom, pausing for a second in the corridor.
The house is quiet, apart from the howl of the wind and the distant sound of the sea hitting the rocks—no sound of music and no light apart from the moonlight.
I start down the corridor and freeze when a door swings open.
It happens smoothly, as if someone on the other side opened it for me, but when I peer around the wood panel, there’s no one there.
The door appears to have opened as a gesture to coax me inside the room.
I step over the threshold and breathe a sigh of happiness.
It’s the library. Nothing can harm me here.
The room is cloaked in moonlight and shadow, and candles give off the familiar scent of amber and sandalwood, mingling with the aroma of leather and old paper.
I look around for the light switch and jump as a lamp on the table switches on.
“What the hell?” I breathe. A rustle goes through the room as if a thousand pages just turned over. “Sorry,” I whisper. “My bad.”
The rustling stops, and I feel a warm gust of air blow gently through the room. It ruffles my hair and seems to twine around me, and then it’s gone. Did I just get hugged by a library?
I shiver suddenly, rubbing my hands as I notice the coolness of the night air. Suddenly, a fire roars to life in the grate, flames licking over the stacked logs. Within moments, the room fills with the warm, smoky scent of apple logs. It reminds me of the smell when Sigurd shape-shifted earlier.
“Thank you,” I breathe, and the flames gutter and shift before burning steadily.