“What the hell is it? Are you wearing a shell or something?” I blurt out, my emotions tumbling over themselves.
Horror, embarrassment at my fear of him, of this situation, which was entirely unfounded. Daloxdoesneed help and, while I admit there’s all the chance of an ulterior motive, so far he has been entirely true to what he is.
And right now he’s…well basically a lizard. A lizard with a problem.
“Not exactly,” Dalox rumbles. “My shed is tough.”
“You’re telling me.” I feel like my eyes are popping out of my head as there is a second crack. “And this is yousoaked.”
A third crack has me wincing, and then I see the flap of transparent, but still iridescent, scaly skin, edged with slightly milky colored ghosts of spines, which is when I see the problem.
“Wait. Stop.” I put my hand on his arm, the one holding the torture instrument. “Over here.”
I guide him to the depression in the wall and then turn him away from me.
“Sit,” I say.
Dalox sits.
“You will require this.” He hands me the spike. It’s ridiculously heavy.
“No, I won’t.” I put it on the side where it makes a clattering sound.
“I would prefer not to be envenomated while I shed, but I will not stop you,” Dalox says, his voice strained.
“Envenom…? What? No!”
I run my hand down his spines. The ones where he has cracked the skin away from them are soft. I splash water on the next few below and then gently massage at them, slowly getting the moisture in between the new skin and the old.
With a satisfying slowness, the casting on the old spines begins to shift, sliding away from the new ones easily as I pull gently.
Dalox groans quietly.
“Am I hurting you? Just say if I am.”
He makes a noise which could be a no, or it could be a word I don’t recognize. However, I can’t imagine this behemoth telling me if I’m causing him pain, especially when he seemed to be implying I could deliver poison somehow and he would take it.
I shake off the strange concept and continue working my way down his spines. It’s not a job I had any concept of doing in my life, but it is satisfying every time one, or occasionally a clump, comes free and slides away from Dalox’s body.
Also almost as satisfying is the noises he is making as I continue to massage down and down his spine. It seems he’s also making a considerable effort to keep his tail still, and as I reach the base, it twitches violently then immediately goes back to good behavior.
“Sensitive?” I ask.
“Sensitive.” Dalox moans the word. “For you,” he adds. “Deadly for anyone else.”
I don’t doubt it. The spines on the appendage are longer and more vicious looking, but again, with a little gentle persuasion, one by one they come free until eventually, there are no more spines.
I go back to the rest of his skin, smoothing my hands over it, marveling as it slides from the brand-new scales underneath.
“Turn around. I’ll deal with the rest of it.”
“I cannot,” Dalox rumbles.
“I’m sure you can,” I say with practiced efficiency. Now I’ve got the hang of this skin shedding, I’m keen to see the job through.
“I cannot,” Dalox repeats. “Because you will see how much I want to breed you.”
GILLIAN
