Page 37 of Lyric

Leaving the other crutch behind me, I started to make my way down the stairs.

About halfway down, I heard footsteps coming toward me. Lyric appeared and glanced up at me.

“Jinn! Hold on. Hold on. You should have called me.”

“But I'm doing it on my own.”

“I see that you are, but still you need to get used to those crutches a little more first.” He came up the stairs two at a time.

“Show off,” I murmured under my breath.

He took my crutch from me and put his arm around my back and under my shoulders. He helped me down the rest of the way, basically lifting me with his muscles so my good foot barely touched each step. He handed me my one crutch and said, “Stay here. I'll get your other crutch.”

I watched him fly up the stairs, grab my crutch and come back down in two seconds flat.

Now that I had both crutches, I was independent again, yet he still hovered over me.

Normally, if anyone else did this to me, I would laugh and push them away. But Lyric brought out different feelings, pleasurable feelings. As if I were a treasure to hoard and guard. Maybe it was a dragon thing for me to think this way. I hadn't yet started my hoard. I hadn't yet figured out what I wanted to collect and save. Many dragons didn't ever have one. But I had always dreamed of one. Special things of my own to admire and keep.

“I made us an early dinner since we basically missed lunch,” Lyric said.

I remembered he’d brought food to the guest room, but I had only drank the juice.

“Good. I'm hungry.”

I looked around at the living room. It had a fireplace and two couches and two EZ chairs, and looked really comfy.

“How long did I sleep?” I asked.

“We both slept. About half an hour for me and an hour for you.”

Lyric walked slowly so I could follow him at my own pace. He led me to the dining room where he'd set out plates and glasses and silverware. In the center of the table was a big bowl ofspaghetti topped with lots of meatballs. Immediately, the scent of the pasta hit me and my stomach gave a loud roar.

“That looks so good.”

“Sit and dig in.”

There was garlic bread in a basket under a towel, hot and dripping with butter. A tossed salad gleamed in a blue ceramic bowl. To drink, Lyric had set out water and wine.

By my plate was a pill. I looked up at him.

“Your prescription for pain.”

I nodded and took it with gulps of cool water.

Soon our plates were full, and so was my mouth. Everything tasted so good.

I wanted to talk to him about what had happened earlier. I wanted to tell him all my feelings, or at least some of them. But I didn't know how and now was not the time.

My insides felt like they were on the outside for all to see. And yet a deep instinct wanted Lyric to see it all. Unless I was completely mistaken, Lyric felt a lot of the same emotions I did. The rescue had done a lot to bond us.

After dinner, Lyric settled me in a comfy chair in the living room while he cleaned up, saying, “You're not mobile enough to help.”

He brought me water in a fancy square cut glass and sat on the part of the couch closest to my chair.

I wanted to talk so badly, but the thought of it had my cheeks hot.

“You're very quiet,” he said. “Still tired?”

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