Chapter 21
The intense scream belting out of Carwyn came out silent. It clamped her lungs and clutched her throat as agony suffused her entire being down to her very essence.
She broke away from Selene with blindness, shuddering and quaking, curling away as fast as she could.
A paw grasped her forearm while the other cupped the side of her head, and finally, she let out the satisfaction of screaming.
Kier let her go to rip his claws into her dress, tearing it from the neckline and down her arm. Unable to open her eyes, her eyelids no longer working, she sobbed when her own melted flesh pulled away with her clothing.
Cupping her head protectively even as she writhed, he shoved Carwyn down until her back met cold stone. Then he touched her face, the burned skin, and she fought. She kicked him, clawed at him with her blunt nails when, once again, she felt fire eating at her.
She knew at some point if she wasn’t careful enough... she’d feel what all witches – perhaps even all humans – feared instinctively. Burning alive. The agony of skin bubbling as it seared, of it cooking while the fat beneath it brought salt and oil to the surface that stung like acid.
Her hair, somehow not damaged, not alive enough to feel the effects, clung to her ruined skin. When she twisted to escape him, it pulled and sliced along her.
“Please, Carwyn! Settle! I don’t wish to cut you with my claws.”
She reached up, unable to open her wounded eyes to claw into his. He was torturing her. Burning her.
She felt more flames, and her screams echoed against the walls, the ground, her very heart. Her pulse was too fast. It beat in her veins so rapidly that it throbbed in her wounds, flooding her with anguish.
Even when she was able to flip open an uninjured eye, her pain was just too intense to register that she could see.
It watered, and tears trailed down her healed temple to drip into her hair.
Her lips stung all the way down to her very teeth and gums when he palmed across them, and she darted forward to bite the webbing of his hand.
He grunted but managed to free himself by prodding her burns so she’d scream out. Then he continued, even as she fought and squirmed to get away.
By the time he’d healed her face, all the energy had sapped out of her, so she could do little more than sob when he went down her shoulder. Then, finally, to her biceps.
She wept even when it was over, the painful memories scoring across her mind.
The sucking sound that had come before she’d been grabbed and the warning it was.
The way Selene had tackled her to the ground, knowing Carwyn was in the memory before she’d realised Selene was aware of it, and how she’d gotten a mere heartbeat’s view of the back of her throat before fire had come from it.
It was harrowing that she’d only had time to close her eyes before searing-hot flames had engulfed her entire face.
She continued to tremble. Her skin felt too hot even when the soothing cool air of his cave brushed over her.
She knew she’d never forget the terror she’d experienced, or the disgusting sensation of her skin cooking.
The smell of it, like charred meat, clung to the inside of her nostrils and sickened her stomach.
“Carwyn,” Kier rasped, cupping the back of her head again. His touch was comforting, his hold kind and gentle as he lifted her slightly. “Do you want me to take you to the water?”
With a quaking sob, she reached out desperately. No longer fighting to get away from him, she dug her nails into the scales of his shoulders to pull him to her. “Please... please hold me.”
She wanted to feel something else.
Not the entire opposite. Not the coldness that would greet her in that splendid room of plants, but warmth that didn’t scald. Tenderness in an embrace, rather than an envelopment of flames that felt far, far too intimate.
He collected her into his arms, pulled her flush against his torso, and even wrapped his wings around her until they crossed her back.
It was tight as he drew her in, perhaps too warm, but the digging of claws poking through her dress and into her thigh was sharp and mean in the exact way she needed right then.
His bare palm had encompassed her once injured, now exposed shoulder, and it instilled pleasure in her heart.
She wrapped her arms around his torso and clung to his back as she sobbed into the side of his rough neck. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t shake the fear, how much it’d hurt, how utterly frightened she’d been.
He deepened the embrace by shoving the side of his head against her. The crown of small spikes was too hard against her jaw and neck but felt just right. His scales were tough, and they conflicted with the softness of his muscles as they pressed underneath her.
“T-thank you,” she whispered when the worst of her crying eased, although it didn’t cease entirely. At least she was no longer hiccupping. “Thank you for healing me.”
“Of course. It’s why I’m here.”
“A-and for holding me,” she added, her face pinching into a cringe of anguish.
He lifted his paw away from her leg to pat the back of her hair, and she winced a little when his claws brushed it by accident, catching in a few tangles. “I’m... surprised you asked for it, after experiencing something only we can do.”
Her eyes flicked open.
She’d just been burned by a dragon and then had immediately crawled into the arms of another for comfort. Yes, she could see that would be odd and confusing perhaps. But she’d wanted his comfort more than anything. She’d needed it.
It also made her realise that she had her legs wrapped around his waist while her backside rested on his thighs. She didn’t have the strength to blush or care right then.
“Would you like me to put you down now?”
Her nails dug in. “No. Please don’t.”
She wanted a little longer. The smell of him had only just begun overlapping and erasing the horrible, smoky stench. His heat had barely started to warm her. She needed more.
“May I lie down then? One of my hindlegs is twisted.”
She nodded, and he released her hair to steady himself when he leant forward and then lowered onto his side without squishing her. His paw went back to her leg to resettle her against him, eliminating the gap his movements had created.
Carwyn didn’t care if he was doing this because he felt guilty or awful, or because he maybe held tenderness for her. She did not give a damn when it felt healing.
Her breaths eventually tapered off from their panicked speed, letting her settle more as every second passed. Replacing it was a gradual yearning. For what? She didn’t know. Just something, anything. Her heart raced with it.
She knew what it was the moment her hands drifted down his muscled, scaled back slightly to adjust her hold, and his bumpy spikes tingled her palms. She needed a distraction, and to finally fall victim to her cravings.
“Kier,” she whispered, burying her forehead against his neck. “Can I request something?” Her heart skipped a beat, shy bashfulness fluttering it. “S-something odd, but something I don’t mean anything by.”
It was a complete lie. It’d mean everything to her.
“Of course.”
She bit her bottom lip so hard she worried she’d draw blood. “Can I hold... your hand? Uh, paw?”
His head shifted as he smacked it against the ground. “Once again, she makes fun of me. Hand will do, witch.” He lifted his palm from her thigh, and she shivered a little when it ghosted up her side, causing her to subtly arch. “But yes.”
She drifted her own down to searched for it sightlessly in the cuddle.
Her fingertips tentatively caressed a rough palm, and she hesitated, like always, when she brushed up against another’s hand.
Then she pressed all her fingers against it and glided them up until the tips found the gaps between his.
She shoved them through and grasped his palm, and her entire being shuddered.
She loved it.
It was like a hug for her heart, and it was so much more intimate than him holding her. She was mostly clothed, and she’d hugged plenty of people – especially her sisters.
Sure, the wings and claws were new additions, but this?
To feel the hand of another without learning what they thought of it, or how they felt in general? She bit her lips shut when a sob threatened to break through, but she couldn’t stem her renewing tears, each one of joy and longing... and sadness.
He closed his fingers over hers until the points of his claws prickled against the back of her wrist, and she clutched his hand so tight she feared she’d somehow break his bones.
So this is what it’s like to hold someone’s hand. It’s so nice.
It conveyed so much. That the other person was there, and that they wanted to comfort. That nearness and touch were allowed. That someone... cared.
It was something she’d been missing out on, just like so much, and it broke her. She deserved to be allowed something so simple, so platonic yet endearing.
But it did bring hope.
Maybe I can be like Valerie and charm a dragon into loving me. Maybe her future had always been set to be this way, as they couldn’t force their emotions on her. Couldn’t torture and subjugate her to them without her want or consent.
She closed her eyes in joy at the idea. Maybe it can be him.
Maybe Kier was having strange thoughts as well, because he gripped her hand a little tighter. Was he experiencing all these warm and fuzzy emotions?
It was nice not knowing.
She could pretend it was true.
He lifted his head and brought his wing down slightly to make room, and her soul wanted to soar when he nuzzled the tip of his snout against her cheek.
She wanted to giggle when it tickled, especially with his warm breath billowing against it, hot, heavy, and tingly.
She wondered what it would feel like in other places.
For now, it was enough to make desire stir, mild and welcome.
She squirmed a little when wetness pooled between her thighs, and her skin flushed with heat.
Then he licked her, just a small, quick lash of his soft tongue against her high, rounded cheekbone, and she was overwhelmed by soaring affection.
Her eyes snapped open in abject horror so acute it speared like claws into her chest.
That emotion... was not my own.