Page 21 of An Accident Waiting to Dragon

Asher stalked off, wading back into the water and ignoring the renewed sting of salt water in his wound as he shifted.

Scooping up fish with his one good wing turned out to be easy, and he returned to the beach within twenty minutes or so. Using a single shifted talon, he gutted his catches, then started gathering wood for a fire—the one thing dragons were never without.

Acutely aware that Gwen was foraging around in the brush nearby, he tried to focus on his task as he stacked wood up on the spit of sand, and, using his own spark, ignited it. Quickly, he got the fish cooking on long, shiny leaves laid out on a flat rock close to but not right in the flames. He squatted by the fish, turning the leaves like hands of a clock to cook the other sides better.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over what he was doing. Gwen standing close.

He swore. Damn pixies never seemed to move, and yet somehow would suddenly be right where they wanted to be. Sneaking up on a dragon was both unusual, and sexy as hell.

“Don’t sneak up on me,” he grumbled.

After a beat, she set several mangos in the sand at his feet. “Here.”

She’d used to talk to him with warmth and affection in her voice, and at one point…more. Sweetly more. Innocently more. He’d waited a long time for her to grow up, catch up to him. And then she had, but the timing had been all wrong. All they’d had was that one kiss before he’d gone off to be a spy and fight a war.

Clenching his teeth together, Asher looked away, then grunted with annoyance. He’d burned the damn fish. He grabbed the rock they were cooking on and yanked it away from the heat.

“Did you burn yourself?” Gwen asked, reaching for his hand.

He pulled away and could feel her gaze on him as her hand hovered in the air between them. Touching her more was a bad fucking idea right now.

“Dragon,” he pointed out with a shrug. Heat resistant, even as a human.

She huffed. “Right.”

“Sit,” he said. “Eat.”

They’d both feel better, and then they could come up with a plan.

He could see by the stubborn tensing around her eyes that Gwen didn’t want to agree with anything he had to say, or maybe the way he’d said it. Or ordered it more like.

Asher swallowed a sigh of frustration with himself—the years of fighting had turned him into someone harder, he’d known that, but it hadn’t been so obvious as it was with her. Deliberately he sat and turned his attention to carving up the mango she’d brought in a way that they could just pluck pieces of the sweet center out. Anything to keep from meeting her gaze. A few minutes later, she walked abruptly away, and every muscle in him tensed, then he blew out a small breath when she came back and set the egg down close to the fire before she held out her hands for a leaf of fish.

For the first time since he’d tackled that wraith midair, they had calm. One that might not last, but still…she was safe, for now.

And she was with him.

Gods, he’d missed her face. Her voice. The scent that followed her, fresh and clean and sort of misty at the same time. Like dew. Like moonlight.

She was within touching, and it took everything he had not to close his eyes and inhale. Not to grab her wrist and tug her into his lap.

Instead, he handed the fish to her, careful not to touch her when he did. Then she made her way around the fire to sit as far from him as she could get. Stuffing the sting of disappointment down deep, he grabbed his own meal, shoving the much-needed protein in his mouth. Food would help with the healing.

As if she’d followed his train of thought, Gwen eyed his left arm, brows scrunching up in adorable concern. She said nothing, silently chewing, until finally, “I used all my moonlight on the wraith,” she said a few minutes later. “If I can absorb more tonight, then I’ll feel much better.”

“All your moonlight?”

She flashed him an annoyed look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Asher paused with a chunk of fish meat halfway to his mouth. “Exactly what it means.”

Gwen sat up so straight, a steel beam might as well have been welded to her spine. “So you’re judging me now? For doing what was necessary to save us both?”

“No judgment.” He attempted to say this calmly.

Her expression begged to differ. “Oh, there was judgment.”

Asher blew out a sharp breath. So did his dragon. Clearly, she wanted to pick a fight. Maybe she’d decided that loaded silence wasn’t enough of a clue and to shove her anger at him now. Maybe she just needed the distance. Either way, he had no right to fight back. Her brother was dead because of him. She deserved to hate him.

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