Lydia
I’m not entirely sure what woke me, but before I open my eyes, I’m aware of warmth and a soft whooshing sound. It’s not unpleasant (and I’ve certainly woken up in worse ways), so I take a moment before I decide to find out what actual horrors I’m about to experience.
Curled up on the floor next to my couch is Deus.
His tail is wrapped around his legs and up his abdomen.
His arms enclose it as if he’s giving it a hug.
His matted hair has fallen back from his face, and I’m struck by just how incredibly handsome he is when he is able to relax.
His forehead is smoothed of worry lines, his jaw no longer clenched. He looks younger, and he looks…happy.
Then one leg kicks out. The frown returns. He huffs a breath then some smoke, his body shifting from side to side in a silent battle within his own mind.
Finally his eyes spring open, and he glares at me. Only I’m not sure he sees me at all. I think he sees what his mind wants him to see. I try not to breathe, but obviously, I have to breathe.
Then there is the blink. The slow clearing of those burning bright eyes.
“You are still here, little ember,” he rasps, his voice deeper and more full of rocks through lack of use.
“I’m still here. Biding my time,” I respond.
Deus stretches out, sits up, and notices his tail. He stares at it. The tip twitches and he flinches.
“I did not have a tail last night.”
“Probably something to do with the dragon.”
“Draa-gohn?”
“It’s what we call your Sarkarnii forms back on my planet.”
“Humans have Sarkarnii on their planet?”
“No, we have mystical creatures called dragons. Sarkarnii look a bit like them.”
“Hmmm,” Deus rumbles, still inspecting his tail. “Maybe you did have Sarkarnii once.”
He leaves his tail and scratches at the back of his neck, the claws rasping over his scales as he brings them down over his chest and then down again towards his waistband.
“I am right here, you know,” I say, and fortunately the hand halts its progress.
“I need to shed,” he growls.
“I can see.” I look over the slightly papery surface of his scales. I’ve seen similar on other Sarkarnii. “Maybe you should use your aquium?”
“Aquium?” Deus growls.
“I’ve heard my friends say it helps their Sarkarnii mates.”
Deus’s eyes burn at me. I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing somehow.
Maybe not mentioning mates to a Sarkarnii who wanted his back so much he turned traitor to his own brother?
Sometimes I am really dense.
“Aquium,” he growls. “You will assist me.”
“Yes. No. I won’t be doing that.” I fold my arms. “Not in my job description as your captive.”
“If you don’t want me to be growly for another nova-week, you will assist me,” Deus says.
I fold my arms. “No.”
He fires out a cloud of smoke in frustration.
“If you would aid me, I would be most grateful,” he says through gritted teeth. “I have not shed in a long time. It is likely to be difficult for me.”
“I am not getting naked with you in an aquium,” I respond.
“You do not need to be…nekkid.” Deus’s brow is drawn together once more.
“I mean I won’t be taking my clothing off.”
Do I see his eyes flare? I think I’m imagining it as once again the glower is back.
“Then you will get wet,” he says.
“Not if you behave.”
Deus bares one fang and his eyes burn a little brighter, the pupils mere slits of darkness.
“If I behave, and I shed nicely, will you tell me your name?”
“No.”
The fang disappears, but the glint in his eye does not.
“Perhaps if you help me, I will promise not to eat you.”
“If you were going to eat me, you’d have done it by now.”
I can almost see him cursing internally. I attempt to keep a straight face. As much as Deus wants to be scary, as much as I should be scared by him, there is nothing terrifying about this male. And to think of all the stories I was told about him.
Deus is a broken male, trodden on by his own kind in his desperation to make real what was once real. I doubt he’s had a single kindness shown to him from that day to this.
“Okay, I’ll help you,” I say, more surprised than I think even Deus is at my agreement. “Providing…” I hold up a finger. “You also have a good wash.”
“Wash?” Deus growls.
“Wash, with soap.”
Deus wrinkles his nose.
“My shed…” he says.
“Will get rid of some of the grime, but not all,” I reply. “Wash,” I add forcefully.
“Wash,” Deus says sadly, slowly getting to his feet.
He trails towards the bedroom quarters, his tail drooping. Who’d have thought the concept of a wash would lay this great growly Sarkarnii low?
I go to follow him, then I spot it in the corner of the room: my bag. I guess I wasn’t really looking for it yesterday, which is why I’m only seeing the thing now. My bag which has my swimming gear in it…and my comm device.