Even for the short time I was gone, I missed her. Of course, I cannot take her hunting with me, but the sight of her, safe in her nest, fills me with intense pleasure.

My mate.

Her small form fits in my arms perfectly, and now that our minds are connected, I can feel that her wounds are hurting her. The fire moves through them as well, burning away impurities. Dragons heal quickly, and we do not sicken like humans do, and the fire works to fix my mate and make her stronger so she can bear my young.

It never occurred to me that Sasha would not enjoy being my mate, however. I have been troubled by this since I touched her, and my thoughts were a chaotic, muddy pool as I flew over the ruins and hunted. Now that I have returned to her side and resumed my two-legged form, I am able to think clearly. Sasha did not wish for me to touch her, but when I rubbed her body with the scented cream, her pleasure scent flowed. She enjoyed it after all.

I did not imagine her scent. And while she might not have enjoyed all of my touches, that does not matter. If she enjoyed one touch, I will learn others so she will come to look forward to all of my touches. I will not give up. I will not despair. Like Kael said, she wants to be caressed and coaxed. I was too stubborn to listen then, but I will take his advice now.

Whatever my mate needs from me, I will give her.

 

 

15

 

 

SASHA

 

The next morning, I wake up to see that Dakh is asleep beside me, his big arm thrown over my shoulders. I’m tucked against his chest, and my hair’s damp with sweat. I feel a little hungover, all wrung out and exhausted. Am I sick? I slide out of his grip and get out a small mirror, examining my neck. The bites that were there last night are gone. My cheeks are flushed with fever, but other than that, I look all right.

“Sasha,” Dakh murmurs. He strokes a hand down my arm, a silent question in his gaze.

“I’m okay,” I tell him with a faint smile. “Just feel kind of crappy.” I keep the cheery expression on my face, though I’m watching him warily as he gets up. I know some guys get morning wood and want to have sex. Is he going to be one of them?

But Dakh gets to his feet and pads away, and I sink back under the blankets, relieved.

He returns a few minutes later, and I’m surprised to see that he’s got a few items in his hands. One is the mug I’ve been drinking out of, and when he hands it to me, I realize it’s full of fresh, cold water. He watches me to make sure I take a drink, and when I sit up, he sits on the ground next to me and puts down a few more items, regarding me as he does: a can of beans, a jar of peanut butter, and a box of crackers that are probably stale as hell.

He’s taking care of me. Despite my mixed feelings about him, I melt at that. “Thank you, Dakh. This is really sweet of you.”

He touches my cheek and then tucks the blankets closer around me, then hands me one of my paperbacks. “Sasha.” He points at the bed, and even with that one word, I understand him. I need to stay in bed and recover today. I give him a genuine smile. “I guess I can do that.”

I drink my water, and as I do, I wonder if there’s a way I can make coffee or hot tea. Oooh. That’s something to try for the future, I think. For now, I gulp down everything in my cup, and Dakh immediately takes it and leaves with it for a refill. I skip the can of beans and inspect my crackers and peanut butter. The crackers are terribly stale, but I spread peanut butter on them with my fingers and eat anyhow. It’s the best thing I think I’ve ever tasted. When Dakh returns with my drink, I take a few more sips and then lie back down again.

He pushes my book into my hands, and I chuckle at that. “Never thought someone would demand that I read.” But I pop it open and return to my place, happy to lose myself in a book for a few hours.

Of course, it’s a little disconcerting that Dakh is hovering nearby. I’m aware of him even as I try to concentrate on my book. When he climbs into the bed with me, my senses go on high alert, but he only moves to sit next to me, and his hand strokes through my hair, petting it. Which is…kind of nice.

For a girl who’s sworn she hates to be touched, I sure do seem to be enjoying all these touches lately. Maybe it’s not the touches I hate, but what comes with them—sex. But getting my hair stroked is all right. When Dakh indicates that I should put my head in his lap, I do, and he continues to run his fingers through my curls. That’s all he does, though. He doesn’t do more, doesn’t push for more, doesn’t even talk. He seems content to hang out with me, as if he knows I don’t feel well and need to rest.

It’s surprising, but it’s also pleasant. How long has it been since I’ve had a day where I could stay in bed? Too long. I’m determined to enjoy it. I smooth my hand over one of the pages in my book and go back to reading.

 

 

DAKH

Sasha’s thoughts are full of pleasure. She is still wary every time I move, but she lets me pet her hair and touch her face as she stares at the thing she calls a “book” and loses herself in its story. And her pleasure makes me happy.

I do not remember things like “books” from my world. My vague memories are misty and polluted by ravens, but I do remember some things. Sitting at the feet of the elders and hearing glorious tales of battle is one of them, though I do not recall any of the specific stories. Perhaps that is like what Sasha feels when she looks at her book. It is telling a story in her head, instead of aloud. And because I am in her thoughts, I listen in on the story as well.

It is a strange one, full of humans and things called “ships” that float on the water. One human male courts a female, but because she is angry at him, he decides to woo her. This has my full interest, because I, too, wish to learn how to woo my female.

The door to Ophelia’s cabin opened up with a bang. She sat up in bed, clutching her nightgown to her heaving bosom.

What is this? I pause in my stroking of Sasha’s hair, fascinated. The words paint a story in her mind. I find this fascinating. More than that, I can feel how intrigued my mate is by the story. I settle in, curious.

Dirk swept inside, his gaze raking over Ophelia. In his hand, he carried a large bouquet of roses. “You asked me to show you my love? Well, I shall do so.”

Ophelia gasped, pleased. “Flowers? For me?”

“Only the best for you, my dearest.” He held the flowers out to her. She took them, and then he swept her into his arms, carrying her out of the ship’s cabin. He moved out onto the deck with her, and she blushed to hear all of the ship’s hands cheering them on. But Dirk did not stop. He continued off the gangplank with her and walked to the pier, and then onward. Ophelia swooned in his arms, aroused by his strength and the way he had swept her off her feet. So romantic. It made her hungry for him just knowing how strong he was.