Page 9 of Emerald Waves
My dragon did what I could only describe as an awkward happy dance.
Harrumph. Dragons are not awkward.
Tell that to me the next time you get your tail twisted up in a fishing net.
Had the fools tried hauling me up I’d have dragged that trawler to the bottom of the ocean and laughed as the fishermen abandoned ship, the bloody fools.
And given birth to a modern round of sea monster stories. No thank you. Learn something from Nessie’s indiscretions if nothing else. Our cousin can be a real idiot sometimes.
“I’ll go run the water for you,” I said, caressing his cheek before I straightened up and headed for the bathroom.
As I ran the water and added a bit of his body wash to it, because who doesn’t love bubbles, I glanced around, taking in the sparseness of everything. Much like his bedroom, it contained no luxuries and little in the way of comforts of any kind. Basic washcloths, towels, bodywash, shampoo. Not even a decoration on the wall to give me a clue of something he liked besides books and scrolls. Unlike Alex, who’d eagerly chatted about rock hounding, spelunking, and all the places he’d gone exploring and the things he still hoped to see, Emerson was a complete mystery. Outside of the archives, it was like he didn’t exist beyond this space.
Bubbles foamed, while I sat there trying to remember the last time I’d seen him outside of it, my mind finally landing on a firm, never. Had that been because he didn’t come out or was it because I’d never noticed him. I hoped it wasn’t that second part.
Regardless of if I’d missed him, or if he’d become a complete shut in over the years, I intended to get him out more and see to it that he had more in his life than what was inside these walls. As important as his work was, it wasn’t fair of anyone, least of all the dragon protectors he’d been striving to help, to expect it to be the only thing he had in his life. And we didn’t.
Ididn’t.
But man had we done a piss poor job of making sure he knew that.
I checked the temperature and deemed it hot enough but not too hot to scald him, before returning to his bedroom to see him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking deep in thought. He smiled up at me, almost hesitantly, when I stepped through the doorway, letting out a littleeepwhen I crossed the room and swept him up into my arms.
Wasn’t that what humans did when they were married? Carried their mates over the threshold? Or did that just apply when they were entering the home of the dwelling they intended to inhabit together.
Oh shit.
I hadn’t even thought about the living situation.
Would he find it disruptive to his work, and even a bit controlling, to ask him to move into my home with me? It would become our home then, but what right did I have to ask him to leave his and join me?
Should I ask to move in here, with him?
How would that work?
Would he see it as an invasion?
I was probably getting ahead of myself again. For all I knew, not all mates lived together. Maybe I was taking too human of a view of things.
Focus on the bathI told myself as I carefully undressed him. His face flushed and while I wished to look my fill, that time would come later. For now, I gently lowered him into the water.
“Ohhh, nice,” he murmured, reclining against the back of the tub.
That was perfect. I stroked his hair back and turned to retrieve the washcloth and body wash I’d left on the edge of the sink. While he relaxed and enjoyed the water, I soaped up the cloth and gently began lathering up his arm.
“I’m glad, I didn’t want it to be too hot,” I murmured.
I’d never imagined that bathing someone could be such a sensual thing, but as I rubbed circles along his body with the cloth, I pictured doing it with a sea sponge, soft and still smelling faintly of salt and ocean air. As I worked my way across his chest, he sighed and sunk a little lower into the tub, giving me the chance to scoop up bubbles and warm water to pour slowly over his head, wetting the strands so I could work the shampoo in.
Slow.
Gentle.
Every movement was careful, so he could just relax and enjoy the moment.
The scent of the bubbles, cashmere and snow, reminded me of winter, as did the cranberry spice shampoo I’d found in his bath caddy. As I massaged it into his scalp and rubbed it along the strands, it was like branding the feel of it on my fingers. It was the same way when I returned to washing him. The curve of his arm, the berth of his chest, his belly, concave and ticklish when I inched near his belly button. I mapped his form with the cloth and my fingertips, longing for the day when I could trace the same path with my lips and tongue.
Damnit, down dragon.
