Page 310 of Dragon Slayer

She registered the bed, its rumpled sheets, illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp on the table. Her sudden fright gave way to a sense of warmth, and safety, a sense of having something important very close by.

And then thesmellsassaulted her. All of them, stronger than she’d ever imagined, all of them tagged with dozens of individual markers, layered over one another in an impossible array. She could taste them; swore she could hear them.

She couldn’t help it; she choked on nothing. Clapped both hands over her mouth.

The sheets rustled beside her, and then two warm arms wrapped around her; one across her shoulders, the other around her waist. She was naked, she realized, and so was he, skin-on-skin.

His breath stirred her hair; his scent –Val, mate, mine– overwhelmed all the others, and the urge to retch subsided.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” he murmured; the movement of his lips against her scalp was soothing. Everything about being pressed against him was. He huffed a laugh. “Well. I assume it’s a lot. It’s always been like this for me. But I’ve heard the turning is fairly magnificent.”

“Fairly magnificent,” she echoed with a shaky chuckle. “That’s one way of putting it.”

He rubbed her arm and her ribs, gentle, undemanding touches. “How do you feel?”

She let her hands fall to her lap – ended up curling them around his forearm, holding him to her midsection – and forced herself to take a deep, measured breath. She felt…pain-free. Energized. Only now that it was gone did she realize how debilitating her low-level headache and nausea had been. She’d been living with a fuzzy sort of disconnect, her eyesight blurry, her temples always throbbing.

“I feel…fantastic.”

She turned her head, faster than anticipated, and found his face right up against hers, his eyes blue, and deep, and glued to her like she was something special. “Val.” She touched his cheek and he leaned into it. “I don’t feel sick.”

He beamed at her. “That’s because you’re not.”

She leaned in to steal a kiss, and it was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted.

~*~

“I’ll go check with Vlad one last time,” Fulk said, half-out the door already. “And make sure Kolya’s ready.”

“’Kay,” Anna said, distracted, as she tugged on her boots. “I’ll get the newlyweds.”

“Anna.”

She paused, and lifted her head.

“Be careful.”

She sent him a quick grin. “You, too.”

He slipped out.

It was late, the wee hours, really, and the house was quiet…but it never really slept. Someone was always moving around: rustling up a midnight snack; going to or from the bedrooms; flinging off the covers to run down for one last test. Scientists kept strange hours.

Fulk walked on silent feet down the long hallway, booted footfalls muted by the rug. He heard the house murmuring around him, its low, constant rhythm, but he didn’t detect anyone until he was halfway down the grand staircase. And by that point, when the stink of a campfire filled his senses, it was too late. He paused a moment, hand on the bannister, cursing internally.

Liam called, “I already saw you. You might as well come on down.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. This was exactly why they’d split up, but he’d thought he might get farther than the foyer.

Fulk clomped down the remainder of the stairs, just to be petulant, however childish that was, and came to stand in front of his old nemesis on the black-and-white tile.

The shadows beneath his eyes marked Liam’s fatigue, but he was otherwise as put-together as ever, today’s long coat green velvet, his khakis tight enough to be breeches, and tucked into riding boots no less.

Fulk said, “You look ridiculous.”

His brows lifted. “And you look like you’re about to go on tour with Guns N’ Roses, so I’d say we’re even, old chap.”

Fulk hated his guts.

---