“Why did you really leave the knife in my tent?”
My dragon preened. His rumble deepened into a rolling, self-satisfied vibration that heated my chest from the inside out. He had been waiting for her to ask this question since the moment he’d pressed that blade into the canvas beside her sleeping bag.
“Our hoard.” The words came easily because every part of me had accepted her as my mate, so the protectiveness over it was gone. “Gold, weapons, gemstones, anything rare or valuable. We collect and we guard, and we are ferociously possessive about what belongs to us.”
She tilted her head. “Ferociously possessive. Wonderful.”
“I caught your scent at another campsite, and my dragon basically claimed you right then and there. When we went to our hoard, I grabbed the knife for you.” I rubbed my jaw, remembering how I’d felt an urgency to find her the perfect gift even though I hadn’t laid eyes on her. “I searched for you every night until the night your fire’s smoke gave me the signal.”
I cringed at the memory of the chaos of those first seconds after I’d shifted. Her scream. The bear spray. The absolute wreckage of my dignity.
“I let my dragon take over a little too much that night. But after you ran, I put the knife in your tent. I’d been carrying it in a little pouch every time I was on patrol in case I spotted you.”
“That’s the most unhinged romantic gesture I’ve ever heard,” she said, a hint of disbelief in her tone.
“Zarek nearly had an aneurysm when he found out about it.” I let the corner of my mouth pull up. “I really can’t wait to see what the first thing he gives his mate is.”
She snorted. “The golden stick up his ass?”
My head fell back as I laughed, and she joined in. She was going to fit in with my quad just fine.
My laughter faded into the stillness of the clearing, and I realized how long we’d been sitting on the ground. The sun had climbed higher, warming the grass and pulling the scent of wild clover into the air.
I stood and brushed off the back of my shorts, then extended my hand to Liz.
She looked at it. Her gaze traveled from my open palm to my face and back again, calculating the cost of the gesture the way she seemed to calculate everything. Then her fingers slid into mine.
Her hand was small and warm, her grip firm. I closed my fingers around hers and pulled her to her feet. She rose easily, and for a second, we stood there, her hand still wrapped in mine. Her pulse tapped against my palm, quick and steady.
Neither of us let go.
My dragon hummed, low and content, savoring the simple pressure of her skin against mine. I memorized the exact weight of her hand, the way her thumb rested along the side of my index finger, the heat that bloomed where our palms pressed together.
Then she released me, and I let her go without resistance.
We walked toward Reese’s truck. The tall grass swished against our legs, and I shortened my stride to match hers. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her sweater.
“So...” She kept her eyes on the truck. “What now?”
“That’s up to you.”
She glanced at me sideways. “That’s a non-answer.”
I shrugged. “I can leave you be and give you time to think. I can take you on a date. We can just be friends. Whatever you want, Liz.”
My dragon practically clawed at my ribs. He wanted me to drop to my knees in the grass and beg her for the date. I kept my face neutral and my stride easy, though my pulse hammered in my ears.
She stopped walking. I stopped too, turning to face her.
Her shoulders dropped on a long exhale. “It’s hard for me to even imagine dating or a relationship at this point.”
A searing ache ripped through my chest, and I clenched my jaw against it. Every cell in my body wanted to reach for her, to promise her I was different, to swear on the hoard and the sky and every star I’d ever flown beneath that I would never cause her that kind of pain.
I nodded once.
Her eyes narrowed, watching for a crack in my composure. I refused to give her one.
“I’d be willing to do something like kayaking on the lake, though.” She paused. “If dragons even like water.”
