Page 42 of Burned

A small whimper escapes my throat and that seems to pull him out of his state of shock.

“Are…” He clears his throat and looks into my eyes, staring deeply, perhaps looking for any trace of my humanity in my new form. “Is Lord still in there? Can you understand me when you’re like this?”

“Yes,” I answer in my rough, deep dragon voice. “I am humananddragon, always. Separate but inextricable.”

“Wow,” he murmurs, extending a hand then pulling it back. “Can I…?”

I crawl forward and press my large snout against the palm of his hand. As tough and nearly impenetrable as my scales are, they’re also incredibly sensitive to touch. The warmth of his hand stroking across my muzzle sends ripples of pleasure through me. Alrick’s eyes widen as he feels my reaction through our bond. I blow out a puff of smoke and he laughs as it wraps around him and then disperses into the forest around us.

“Climb on,” I rumble.

He gives my nose one more gentle pat, then hitches the backpacks higher on his shoulders and goes around to climb up onto my back. It takes him a couple of tries to figure out that he’s not going to hurt me by grabbing the wrong place or digging his foot in too roughly, but once he does, he manages to scale my back and find a place to settle between my wings.

“Hold on tight,” I say, and then I spread my wings wider and launch into the air.

I rumble a laugh at the gasp he lets out as we leave the ground. He squeezes me tighter with his legs and flattens himself against me, pressing his face into my nape and doing his best to get his arms around my neck. As if I would let him fall.

I would die before I’d let harm come to him. Happily. Love and affection swell in my heart easily, unfettered by the guilt and logic of my human form. It’s simple when I clear my head like this. Alrick is mine. He was mine before I found him, and he’ll bemine until we’ve both drawn our dying breaths many millennia from now.

ALRICK

I’m riding a dragon.I would pinch myself to check if I’m dreaming, but I’m too scared to let go. The air around me is frigid as we rise above the clouds, but somehow, I don’t get cold. It’s like there’s fire coursing through my veins, keeping me warm in spite of the icicles forming on Lord’s scales.

I thought it might be difficult to see him in this form and still view him as Lord, but he was right, there’s no separating the two. He might be a different shape, but he’s still the man who saved my life when he could have easily let me die. He’s still the man who gave me cookies even though I was being openly hostile to him. He’s still Lord.

The swoop and dip of his wings catching the breeze is the only thing distracting enough to keep me from trying to untangle the complicated web of emotions that weaves itself through me. The warm, too-big, confusing things I’m starting to feel for Lord are the least of it. Dark, ugly wells of guilt and pain swirl even deeper than that, making me question everything my dad spent a lifetime teaching me until now. How could he have been so wrong about so many things?

Lord swoops a little, then rises again, his body vibrating with dragony laughter as I curse and hold on to him tighter, my thoughts scattering to be dealt with later. He rides the waves of air as if he’s swimming in the ocean, bobbing on them, slithering through them, sometimes simply floating with a sense of peace and contentment echoing through this temporary bond we share.

What will it feel like when we sever it? I know he said it might hurt, but what about after that? Will I feel the absence of him like a missing limb? It’s only been a handful of days, but it’s hard to remember what it felt like before. It’s as if being able to feel Lord is my natural state. It’s a silly thought to have, but I can’t shake it.

Little by little, my fear ebbs, replaced by the confident, relaxed feeling flowing through Lord. He isn’t worried that I’ll fall or freeze to death or get hit by a rogue bird, and as crazy as it seems, I trust him. Right now I think I might trust him more than I trust my own family, and that’s one of the most terrifying realizations of my life.

I unflatten myself from his back, sitting up just enough to look around us. With the shift in my weight, he dips through the cloud again and when we emerge on the other side, I gasp at the sight of the ocean spread out beneath us as far as the eye can see. From this high up, it looks like a pristine blanket of blue that goes on forever.

I’m not sure how long we fly. It feels like it takes forever but also no time at all for the ocean beneath us to turn into land again. Paris’s city skyline comes into view in the distance and a giddy feeling flutters in my chest. I’ve traveled plenty in my life, but never for pleasure. It feels decadent and sinful to spend the next few days in a lavish suite in a Parisian hotel, indulging in rest and food and each other.

I want to ask Lord if he’s worried about anyone spotting us now that we’re near the city, but I’m not sure he’ll be able to hear me over the wind. Besides, he’s been doing this for countless centuries, so I’m sure I don’t have anything to worry about.

Before we get too close to the city, Lord finds a place to land. I brace for a jarring impact, but he touches down so gently I barely even feel it. I slide off his back more gracefully than I climbedon, and in a blink, the towering dragon is gone and the beautiful man I’ve spent days with is back in his place.

I hand him his bag and he dresses, then slings it over his shoulder.

“What did you think of your first dragon ride?”

My “first” makes it sound like there will be more in the future. Longing aches in my chest and Lord frowns. I push it away and smile instead, stepping closer to brush my lips against his and reveling in the electric spark even that brief contact elicits between us.

“It was incredible, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my treasure,” he murmurs. The term of endearment makes my heart race. It’s as silly as the thought I had earlier, but I really want to read into his choice of words. There’s nothing more important to a dragon than its treasure, but I’m sure he doesn’t mean it that way. I don’twanthim to mean it that way… at least I don’t think I do.

“So, what now?” I ask, looking around at the open field we landed in.

“It’s a short walk to the train that will take us straight into Paris. Then, I thought we would pick a hotel and get settled in. After days of hiking, I’m sure you would love a hot bath and to stuff yourself with everything room service has to offer.” He drags his nose against the shell of my ear, making me shiver with desire.

How can he make a bath and food sound so erotic? I think it’s the voice. He could read me the phone book in that raspy, rough voice of his and I think it would get my dick hard.

“That sounds good,” I groan, and he chuckles.

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