13. Artemis #2
“You’ll be sitting just behind the ridge of my shoulders,” he said. “Climb carefully. And if you’re cold, tell me. I can control the temperature around my body.”
“You can… I’m sorry, what?”
He paused. “I can keep you warm.”
“Oh,” I said faintly. “That’s… good.”
“This flight will be brief,” he added. “Our longer journeys will require more endurance. This first one will be less than an hour.”
I made a mental note to bring my journal when we stopped at my apartment. I needed to write this down. I needed to write everything down. My fingers already itched with it. Inspiration had arrived like an uninvited guest and refused to leave.
Footsteps sounded behind us.
Caliban reappeared with the long-suffering expression of a man who had seen too much and was already tired of what came next.
“Chauffeur will now officially be on my résumé,” he said. “Along with valet, logistics coordinator, and emotional support for dramatic alphas.”
Arthur handed him the keys without comment. “Thank you.”
Caliban glanced at me. “Try not to fall off him.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
He sighed. “That’s all anyone can ask.”
Then Arthur stepped back.
Even though I had already seen him shift once, it still stole my breath. The change unfolded with controlled precision. Scale and muscle replaced skin and bone until the dragon stood before me again, vast and solid and completely real.
He lowered himself deliberately, folding down until his body rested against the ground. His head dipped, settling near my feet.
The meaning of it speared through me.
Submission. For me.
I swallowed. “Is this… okay?” I asked, reaching for him before I could talk myself out of it.
“Yes.”
The word echoed through my mind.
I froze. “Oh.”
When I put my hand on him, heat spread under my palm. His scales were smooth, strong, and alive. It made my hands tremble just a little. I slid my hand along the curve of his neck, awed by the reality of him.
“You’re incredible,” I whispered.
A deep, pleased satisfaction answered me. Not words. Feeling.
I climbed up carefully. Following his instructions, I settled just behind his shoulders. The moment I was seated, something firm, gentle, and invisible, wrapped around my waist, holding me securely in place.
“That’s… very thoughtful,” I said.
“I wouldn’t allow you to fall.”
I grinned. “I appreciate that.”
There was a pause.
“You can hear that?”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “I can.”
A longer pause.
“That should not be possible.”
I tightened my grip slightly. “What does it mean that I can hear you?”
His surprise brushed against my thoughts. “I have suspicions,” he said carefully. “But I can’t be certain yet.”
“That’s… not very reassuring,” I muttered. “And deeply alarming.”
I spotted Caliban beside the car, his arms crossed over his chest. He shook his head.
Arthur gathered himself beneath me. “Hold on.”
“Already doing that,” I said.
Before I could take my next breath, the ground fell away.
My stomach flipped, then settled as the city pulled back beneath us. Lights stretched into patterns. Buildings shrank. The night opened wide, cool but softened by the warmth he kept around us.
I laughed. I couldn’t stop myself.
This was real. It was wonderfully, gloriously, real.
As we climbed higher, Arthur adjusted instinctively, careful with every movement, his focus wrapped entirely around me.
Which was a lot to process.
But I held on anyway, grinning into the dark.
This was real. All of it. And I was living it.
I leaned forward slightly, trusting him completely, and let the wonder take over.
In the back of my mind, a voice whispered that my life had just split into before and after.
We landed on a narrow strip of darkness near the Hudson. Gravel crunched under my shoes a second too late, my balance lagging behind my enthusiasm, and the world tilted.
I stepped down with gusto and immediately regretted my confidence.
Arthur shifted behind me, the heat and weight of him folding inward until he was suddenly a man again. I took two uncoordinated steps forward and would have collapsed into a very undignified heap if his hands had not closed around my arms.
“Easy,” he said quietly, carefully.
I swayed once, my body struggling to remember sidewalks and gravity and the very normal expectation of remaining upright. The ground felt too solid. My knees locked, then wobbled, useless for half a second.
Arthur caught me.
His hands closed around my arms, steadying me before I could even register the fall. The contact jolted straight through me.
My palms landed against his chest, and the heat under my hands startled me. It was as if the dragon hadn’t fully let go of him yet. My fingers curled without permission, pressing into fabric stretched over muscle that felt far too solid to be polite about.
I inhaled too fast, then forgot to do it again.
My body started taking inventory of Arthur without asking me first. Height. Strength. The way he held himself perfectly still, as if any movement might tip this fragile connection between us.
Every thought in my head scattered. Every sensible sentence I had prepared dissolved.
I wanted him. That truth arrived uninvited and impossible to ignore. Then another thought cut in just as quickly, and it was one that hurt. Arthur didn’t have time for romance. He’d told me that himself just a few hours ago.
And just like that, a door closed between us.
I forced myself to straighten, peeling my hands away before they could betray me further, and put space between us. It wasn’t enough. It was too much.
Somehow, it was both.
“I’m fine,” I said, clearing my throat. “Just… recalibrating.”
Arthur’s hands dropped immediately, even though I could tell he hadn’t wanted to let go. His attention stayed on me, his eyes searching mine, as if he was making sure I was truly steady on my feet.
I stepped back another inch, then another, just in case my self-control failed.