Page 85 of Crown of Wings and Whispers

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Soft, But Not Too Soft

It was eight at night when Griffon arrived back at the cabin. There was two hours difference between Finland and Wales, so when he’d left his mother’s house, it was just getting dark. The moon was nearly full, as it had been when they'd soared through the Northern Lights the night before. He glanced up before heading into the mökki, looking for a silhouette of a dragon against the backdrop of the small white disk in the sky.

But Lennon wouldn't be out riding at that hour. She usually didn't last much later than five, sometimes six. And after his taste of dragon riding, he understood why. His powerful abs and obliques still burned from trying to stay upright on an animal flying vertically.

His heart sped up when he reached for the door, knowing she’d be inside. It was like opening a gift. "I'm back--"

The interior was dark as pitch. Not an ember left in the fire. He switched on the small light and refused to feel slighted. He'd left her alone on Christmas Day, after all. If she was having fun with Kivi, who was he to wish her home again.

But he did. He wanted to pull her into his arms and keep her there. Forever.

He'd brought back a heavy basket of food from Bridie and the pencil box from Daphne's room containing the six stones. He'd only peeked at them long enough to ensure they were inside. He just prayed Lennon wouldn't end up with seven dragons begging her to ride, reading her thoughts, and edging him out. It was hard enough having one.

He placed the basket on the counter and set about building a fire. When she walked through the door, he wanted her to feel like she was coming home—home to him, home to his heart.

Good hell, how she’d softened him.

Over the course of an hour, the mökki warmed enough that he moved some of the food stuffs into the refrigerator. She’d be famished, and he’d brought more than enough to make it feel like Christmas in earnest. Along with the crackle of the fire, the smell of cardamom and cinnamon relaxed him and tempted him to sleep. But one glance at the clock and he knew it was time to worry.

Unlike Flann and Kivi, the only link Griffon had to her was that pinfeather. She’d allowed him to weave it into her hair at the base of her skull, so it should still be there.

He closed his eyes to concentrate and reached out—

Voices outside had him on his feet, rushing to greet her. The door opened before he reached it, but it wasn’t Lennon. Or was it?

“My love, you’re drenched!” He stood back to take in the sight of her. Clothes sagging and dark with wet. Her dark hair dripping. Her skin was blue.

“R…r…rain.”

He pulled the door shut and whisked her off her feet to get her to the fire. Murmuring softly, he stripped the wet clothes off her. “You’re here now. Just concentrate. Take the warmth of the fire inside you. Will it into your limbs. You can do this.”

“C…c…can’t c…c…concentrate. N…need to p…p…pee.”

“First things first, then.” He wrapped a shawl over her bare shoulders and took her to the toilet. He turned his back when she insisted, then returned her to the fire with her wet pants around her ankles. She wouldn’t forgive him for this, but he could live with her ire…she had to be alive to be angry.

“B…blanket.”

“No, love. It will keep the heat from reaching you. If you show me you can warm yourself, I’ll give you a blanket.”

He removed the rest of her clothing and brought her a chair, then he stood at her back and made a wall with his wings to keep the heat around her. Her arms were blue from the elbows down, so he took one arm at a time, rubbed them, and massaged her fingers to lure the blood back.

It wasn’t working. Shivers wracked her body. She wouldn’t look at him. Her mind…it was like her mind was still out there, in the rain.

He pulled her to her feet and turned her to face him, so the heat could reach her back. “No excuses, now. Concentrate.” He put his hands to the sides of her face and massaged her cheeks a bit roughly. “Remember how you lit the fire when I promised to kiss you?” He forced a laugh and pulled her hands into his again. “I’ll kiss you as soon as you can make your fingers pink again.”

After a few seconds of painful silence, her digits warmed in a rush, like someone had poured warm water into a latex glove. Her hands, forearms, her whole body was transformed by a rosy glow. And finally, blessedly, her eyes met his.

She opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head and began to collapse. He caught her before she could fall into the fire.

All through the night, he lay close to her, keeping her warm. Her sleep was fitful, and she cried out half a dozen times but never fully woke. And some of those times, she muttered about dragons and fire and ice. He considered taking her to a hospital when she started burning up. But while he walked the floor, deliberating, she broke into a sweat and the fever vanished. After that, she slept peacefully until morning.

* * *

A loud popfrom the fire woke me. I was back in the cabin, tangled and naked in a wad of blankets on the floor. Memories flooded back into my brain, fighting for my attention. I worked backward. I couldn’t remember coming to bed. But I quickly recalled how I got my clothes off.

I rolled my face into a pillow and groaned.

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