Page 10 of The Dragon's Stone Hearted Mate
“Maybe for now,” Sherry frowned at me like I was the one causing all the problems. “On his back, though. He’s been here so long that it doesn’t feel right to leave him face down in the grass.”
“I’ll flip him over,” my dragon said and a groan tickled my throat as he wrapped an arm around my middle and flipped me onto my back.
Now just put my legs up by my---
He was gone before I finished the thought.
I couldn’t recall the last time I longed for my flesh, but, in that second, I’d give up a middle finger to be flesh again.
Chapter Seven
Morvan
Camp Air
Cutter didn’t seem too phased by the statue falling on him. I spent fifteen minutes listening to Sherry try to convince him to see the camp’s doctor and him ardently refusing before I wandered away. Maybe this wasn’t the camp for me.
“You haven’t even seen the whole thing yet,”my dragon reminded me.“Though, I did get a peek at the statue’s butt. Not much of one because you moved too quickly but it was a nice butt. Plus, he had a tail. It was fluffy. Almost reminded me of a cat’s tail. I bet it tickled when we did him from behind and—”
“What? Are you having fuck-fantasies about a statue?”I asked him, trying to shake the mental imagery out of my mind’s eye.
“I’ve slept with him before. Don’t you—Oh! You don’t remember!”my dragon said, finally sitting up on his sunning boulder.
“Maybe I should see the camp doctor or give Chole a call. If you think you’ve humped a statue before we need some serious help,”I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
“Morvan! Wait up!” Cutter’s voice called from back up by the cabin.
In a split-second choice, I almost acted like I hadn’t heard him. I wasn’t good for him. He was looking for hope and I just wanted to feel neutral again. Good enough to go back to the warehouse and pretend that Patrica didn’t kill my brother. Maybe I needed blood under my talons to feel like myself again.
“Hey!” Cutter sprinted in front of me looking no worse for wear.
“Do you ever take your pack off?” I laughed, trying to act more interested in conversation than I was. My dragon was losing his mind and that made it difficult to be friendly.
“Not really,” he shook his head. “If I have to flee, it’s nice to have it on and ready to go.”
“Do you think a ghost knocked over the statue?” I asked him.
“Ghosts don’t do that. They don’t use blunt force objects when they fight. It just wanted a better look at you,” he said, and I shoved down the urge to grab my bag and leave. Maybe Cutter was onto something about keeping his pack with him at all times.
“Really?” I asked instead.
“Really,” he nodded. “Sometimes statues are people. It can happen in different ways. Just say hi to him and maybe he’ll stop falling over,” Cutter shrugged. “What do you think about this place?”
“I’m not sure. I’m really not sure,” I said and bit my lip. “Sherry’s bubbly. The cabin’s okay, I guess. I didn’t get to look around too long before you almost turned into a pancake. The fire looks okay. A bit small, but okay,” I gestured at the bonfire in the middle of the camp. “Everyone seems sad.”
“We are sad. That’s why we’re here,” Cutter shrugged, stopping at a cooler and bending down to scoop out two water bottles. He smiled and handed one to me. I nodded my thanks as we made another loop around the center of camp.
Yep. Tonight, while everyone was asleep, I’d slip out and go home. This wasn’t the place for me. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. Every few feet there were a pair of people crying together. I didn’t want to sit around and cry about how unfair life was. I wanted to make it be bloody fair but first I had to reground myself in reality. Maybe Torvan took my sanity to the grave with him.
“Remember, if the ghosts come tonight or in the morning, don’t try to help me,” Cutter said. “I have it under control and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ll remember,” I nodded. “What if you’re losing, though, do I help you out then?”
“You run,” Cutter shrugged. “Sometimes that’s all you can do when your past is hunting you down. Do you walk in circles a lot?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I fly around,” I shrugged.
“Can I fly on your back? That’s rude to ask, isn’t it?”
