I almost feel sorry for her. She can’t fly out of here because, like the clearing where we ate breakfast, this one also has a ceiling of tree branches. She could try vaulting over the stone bench behind her and making a break for it through the jungle at the back of the clearing, but it’s far denser on that side, so the chances of escape on foot are much slimmer than via the path I’m standing on.
With an edge of panic in her voice, she looks to us, as if we have answers. “What is happening right now?”
I look to Anarchy, who has pursed her lips.
“Huh,” she says, folding her arms across her chest as she studies her brother.
“Hmm?” I prompt, hoping she’ll explain.
“Not sure.” She shrugs. “Time will tell.”
The woman calls across the distance, the panic growing in her voice. “Tell what? What will time tell?”
Anarchy opens her mouth. And closes it again.
Then a mischievous smile plays with her lips. “Whether or not he plans to eat you.”
“Fuck,” the dragon shifter whispers, backing away from him—which only prompts him to snarl at her until she stops.
I roll my eyes at Anarchy. “Stop scaring her.”
“Why?” Anarchy widens her eyes at me. “She deserves it.”
I acquiesce. “She does. A little.”
We both turn back to the woman, who stares at us, beads of sweat forming on her brow.
Then she gives us a fierce scowl.
And then she does something I don’t expect.
She takes a step toward Riot and rests down on her knees in the moss so that she’s nearly eye to eye with him.
He immediately stops licking his paws and hisses at her.
She flinches. Her chest stills, as if she’s holding her breath. But then she lets the air out again. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”
His snarls only grow louder.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” she says again.
He rises to his feet and paces to the side and then circles around behind her. Once again, she stiffens and this time, her eyes close, but she doesn’t twist toward him or move in any other way.
He pads around to her front, continuing to circle her, each turn becoming smaller and smaller as he veers inward toward her.
“I respect that you could,” she says, her eyes still closed. “I’m grateful that you haven’t.”
Her breath catches when he brushes up against her arm on his way around the back of her. This time, his body nudges up against her so heavily that she’s pushed forward over her knees into what must be an infuriatingly submissive pose.
“I know that you won’t,” she says, finally opening her eyes as he rounds her front again.
His head and neck and upper body push against her side, rumbling purrs pouring out of him as he rubs the side of his face against her arm and stomach.
“Oh.” Her cheeks regain their full color. Very slowly, she lifts her other hand off her lap and reaches for him.
Her fingertips are just about to brush the top of his head when he swings away from her and prowls all the way back to us.
Still on her knees, she curls her hand closed in the air and her head tips to the side, as if she’s deep in thought.
