“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 intobefore 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 perfectlystill, 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.
Dignity clinging by a thread, I pretended not to notice how much I missed the warmth the moment it was gone.
