I ended up in our usual coffee shop because I’m that sad. “All on your own today, lovely?” Sheila greeted me, and I had to bite back an acidic comment about her observational skills.
By the time evening had fallen and we were by the river, my dragon was practically squirming out of my skin. I needed exercise. I needed freedom. And, it turned out, I neededNate.
Our time in the hotel room had been so good that I didn’t care anymore about the possibility of nosy farmers investigating the source of lights and sounds. Neither did Nate, it seemed. He fucked me, and the feel of him, over me and in me, almost destroyed me. He was merciless in his determination to get me to come before he did, tantalisingly slow strokes of his cock deepinside me until I couldn’t think of anything except the next time he’d push in. No one had ever fucked me the way he did.
I came first—the way he was concentrating on my pleasure meant I didn’t have a choice in the matter—and when he came, it was with a garbled shout that startled the cows in the next field. He collapsed onto me afterwards, and I held him, treasuring this closeness.
He pressed kisses onto my skin, murmuring delightedly as he did so. He was a more vocal lover than any I’d had before, and I loved it. No need to guess if he was enjoying himself or if he found pleasure in me.
He didn’t even complain that I fell asleep again. It was a bad habit of mine and one that some guys took personally. I couldn’t help it—I’d always been that way.
When I woke, he propped himself up on an elbow. “If we’re going to fly, we’d better go now. It’s getting late.”
I wanted to continue lying there, holding him and kissing him. He was right, though. After all the time we spent cooped up in that house, guarding every word and every look, both my dragon and I needed freedom. “I could do with a swim,” I confessed.
“Are you sure you don’t want to fly?” he asked. “I’d love to fly with you.”
His gaze was frank and open, longing in his eyes. There can be something almost unbearably intimate about flying with a dragon lover. Or so I’m told—I’ve never experienced it.
“I don’t fly,” I confessed.
His jaw dropped. “What, never? I mean, youhaveflown, haven’t you?” I could practically see his thought process. “I’m sorry—of course, you’re part human, and I’m afraid I forgot that.”
He was embarrassed, but my heart soared. He didn’t think of me as lesser.
“Is that why… Are you physically unable to fly?”
I took his hand and turned it over in mine, examining it. I needed to touch and have that closeness with him, but I couldn’t look at him. Could I tell him? It was my most fiercely guarded secret. One that very few people in my life had ever known because I knew how other dragons would react.
If I didn’t tell him, we could continue this amazing thing between us. If I told him, and he laughed at me or despised me, everything would be over. But if I told him, and he didn’t laugh at me, he’d know me completely, and that prospect was both terrifying and agonisingly tempting.
“I’m scared of heights,” I said to his hand.
He stiffened for an instant, and I closed my eyes. There was no unsaying it.
“That’s more rational than my fear of spiders,” he said.
I dared to look at him. He reached out a hand, tilted my chin up, and he kissed me. So gently, until my heart hurt with how much I loved him.
NATE
When Alex confessed his fear, all I could think was how grateful I was for having grown up with Rufus, who habitually came out with the most unexpected and inappropriate statements. It meant I could control my instinctive desire to laugh at the ridiculousness of a dragon being scared of heights
When I saw how his head was bowed and his throat was bobbing, my urge to laugh fled. For him, this was a deep, dark secret. That he had trusted me with something so painful…
I didn’t fly that night. Instead, I swam with Alex, keeping as close to him as possible after he’d made himselfso vulnerable. I needed him to know the only thing his confession had changed was that I cared for him even more.
Something told me Alex was too raw for the usual playfulness of our swims. I’m not sure if it was me or my dragon who thought of it first, but it was entirely natural to twine my neck around his, to push gently against his side, to place my wing over him and let the current take us. An underwater approximation of a lovers’ flight.
Once we were out of the water, I was tempted to suggest getting a hotel room again. I wanted to be with Alex, to hold him, to love him. But this damn investigation meant we still had to pretend we were nothing more than friends, so we headed back to the house I was growing to hate.
*
Steven met us at the top of the stairs, planted four-square in our way.
“You told me you’re available,” he accused Alex. “Yet you’re sneaking off with a Mortimer behind our backs.”
“Nate and I went flying while the others were doing their socialising. That’s all.”
