Page 62 of Edge of the Wild

No, it’s a dragon. It’s my dragon.

There was blue.

And then there was a different blue. A pale, freshwater blue, not glowing, but no less luminous – more so, for being well-loved.

Oliver blinked, and he felt the softness of a mattress at his back, and the weight of a familiar form poised above him. Erik’s black brows were knitted together, lips pressed to a flat, worried line.

His hand was warm on Oliver’s face. “Ollie. Ollie, can you hear me?”

His mouth was terribly dry. He swallowed, cracked his lips apart, and croaked out, “Yes.”

Then he saw the faint scratches on Erik’s neck. Reached for them with trembling fingers. “Shit. Did I – did I do this?”

“You started thrashing and I couldn’t wake you.” Erik made a strange face, not quite a grimace. “At first you were struggling, and then you – tried to kiss me.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t know where you were or what was happening. I thought it wrong to return the favor.” Erik’s tone suggested he thought he might be in trouble.

Oliver laid his fingertips over the scratches he’d left; felt the jump of Erik’s strong pulse beneath. He still felt a little floaty, he realized; very certain, but only half tied-down to this world. It was an oddly peaceful sensation, with none of his usual self-consciousness to get in the way of things.

He said, “I knew where I was.”

Erik’s brows drew even tighter together, somehow.

“I was in the clearing, where Ragnar’s men were attacked. By the lake. I saw a shaman dressed like a beast. And I saw a dragon.”

“A dragon,” Erik repeated, tonelessly, his body holding very still.

“It was white with blue eyes. I watched it kill a man and take him into the lake, under the water. I think it knew me.”

“All right.” Erik’s throat jerked beneath Oliver’s hand as he swallowed. “A cold-drake, then. Like the sketches in the books?”

“You think it was just a dream,” Oliver said, but not accusingly; he didn’t feel any frustration or anger at not being believed. He felt nothing but warm, and soft, and very sure – and very admiring of the way concern tweaked Erik’s face at sharp angles. “You think I transposed a drawing I saw in a book into a hallucination. That it’s all muddied. But it’s not. Isawwhat happened at the lake. There’s a dragon out there – and I think it’s being used. I think it hurts, however they’re controlling it.”

“They?”

“The shaman. His people. Whoever they are. They’re using magic, and the dragon doesn’t like it.”

“Right.”

“You don’t have to believe me,” Oliver said. “But you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I’m notafraid.”

“Yes, you are.” Oliver grinned up at him; wound a thick braid around his wrist and tugged. “It’s sweet.”

When their lips met, Erik didn’t respond, at first. Oliver pulled back far enough to bump their noses together and say, “I promise I’m awake, and very,verywilling.” He tipped his head, and kissed his lover again – and then Erik was kissing him back, desperately. It was passion, but it was worry, too, Oliver could feel. The harsh breath against his cheek, the faint quaver of a hand before it landed on his chest, and pushed his gown over one shoulder.

Oliver opened his mouth, inviting, but not, he thought, as Erik’s tongue flicked between his teeth, yielding. He didn’t want to yield; didn’t want to be soft and passive. Thrust both his hands into Erik’s hair and gripped tight; lifted up into him, seeking body heat, and friction.

Erik palmed over his chest, fitted his fingers to the grooves of his ribs, and tried to press him down to the mattress.

Oliver pushed back, arching upward – until Erik’s hand slid to the small of his back, and pulled him in, instead. Until Erik bit at his lip with a low, pleased growl that wasn’t too unlike the growl of the dragon in his vision.

Oliver shuddered and clung to him. Hooked a leg around his waist, and kissed back with equal fierceness. When Oliver pushed, Erik went over easy enough, onto his back, hands framing Oliver’s waist. He was panting when their lips parted.

“I’d thought,” he said, high cheekbones flushed, braids unraveling across the pillow, “to be gentle with you, after today.”

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