by Kayla Wolf
Quinn woke up slowly, but she already knew something felt strange. For the last several decades, she’d woken up alone, in the same bed, in the same place in the room. (with one exception—a night she’d rearranged her furniture on a whim—but that hadn’t lasted.) So as she drifted back towards consciousness, she knew instinctively that something was different. This bed felt subtly different—less worn, somehow, springier, and fresher. But at the same time, there was a different weight on it. And it was oriented differently, some part of her could feel that, as though she were somehow attuned to the magnetic frequencies of the earth…
Or maybe it was just that the sun was creeping through a window that was in a completely different wall to the window in her room. Anyone’s guess, really.
At any rate, as she awoke, she already knew something was very different. So when she stirred a little and felt her limbs make contact with something unfamiliar—something warm, and soft, and heavy—it wasn’t as much of a surprise as it could have been. Something strange was going on, her mostly-asleep mind told her. Yep, that was about right. Maybe she’d finally left home, headed up north to where she was meant to have been all these years. Maybe this was the bedroom she was meant to have been sleeping in. It certainly felt right. And she felt more drowsy, more content, more warm and safe and comfortable than she had in a long time. It felt as though her whole body was glowing, like some kind of urge had been satisfied, an itch had been scratched that had been itching so long she was barely aware of it…
The night before came back to her in a rush. She almost sat bolt upright in bed, a sharp intake of breath hissing between her teeth—but she caught herself just in time, held herself still. David, his body curled around her protectively for all the world like an enormous blanket. Her head was pillowed against his shoulder, and his arm was around her shoulder, warm and comforting. Still fast asleep, she realized, sneaking a glance at his face—those gorgeous green eyes of his were asleep. He looked younger in his sleep, somehow, she thought, tracing the line of his jaw with her eyes as a wondering smile came to her face. And somehow more gorgeous, too.
Had he really gotten into a fight for her last night, she wondered, suppressing the urge to grin? Something about it made her feel warm and tingly. That wasn’t very progressive of her, she knew. She could fight her own battles, after all—it wasn’t as though she hadn’t had plenty of experience being tough, being strong, defending herself. But there was something deeper to it. Knowing David had been willing to fight for her, to put himself at risk to protect her… well, it meant something, didn’t it? He’d come all the way here on some bizarre whim, the instruction of a prophetess from halfway across the country. Who did that? What kind of dragon dropped his whole life and flew to the rescue of people he didn’t even know?
Because they’d needed him, hadn’t they? If it wasn’t for David, who knew what Caleb might have done? It was clear that the coyote had had ulterior motives, but her father was so trusting, and she had been so distracted by all her planning about going home… if it wasn’t for David, openly suspicious and distrustful of the coyote, he might have actually succeeded in his attempt to steal their family artefact. Because that was what he had been here for, wasn’t it? What else? He’d been so interested in the lake, in the nature of their little farm here… he’d wanted to claim the stone for himself, take it back to his family, presumably.
Did he know, she wondered, that the stone would be useless if it wasn’t in the hands of a member of her family? Perhaps that had been part of his mission, to figure out exactly how it worked. Simply stealing it wouldn’t have done him any good, though. The lake would have dried up, of course, and she and her father would have lost their farm… but the coyotes wouldn’t have gotten anything out of the stone. Just a fist-sized stone—a beautiful thing, true, but no better than a decoration in the hands of anyone who didn’t have their gray-blue eyes.
Perhaps he had known that, she thought, turning over a little and trying not to disturb David too much as she adjusted her position. Perhaps that had been why he’d been so strange with her—had he been attempting to seduce her, perhaps? Maybe he’d thought that if he could get her to fall in love with him, she’d come with him willingly, bringing the stone and the water along with her. Well, he hadn’t counted on David, had he? She smiled softly at the dragon, and unable to resist, pressed a kiss to his forehead. He stirred a little, limbs shifting under the blankets, and one green eye cracked open to look blearily up at her.
”Hey,” she murmured, unable to stop the soft smile that stole across her face. God, she’d always prided herself on being tougher than this. How could the sight of some sleepy man from halfway across the country turn her to mush?
”Oh,” he said softly, his other eye opening. “I was worried I was dreaming.”
”No such luck,” she grinned. “Stuck with me.”
”Oh, no,” he sighed, curling his arms tightly about her and pulling her into his embrace. She realized with a pleasant shock that both of them were still very much naked—she could feel the whole length of his body against her, including a part that clearly wasn’t as half-asleep as the rest of him. “What a terrible fate—”
”Truly,” she grinned. “It’s late, we should get up—”
”The sun’s only just up,” David complained, kissing her throat in between words.
”That’s late on a farm!”
”It’s not the sun, then,” he murmured, and she could feel her blood stirring, responding to the feeling of his lips against her skin, his body against hers in the bed. For someone who’d been so fast asleep a few seconds ago, he was certainly waking up quickly. And so was she, she realized, her heart drumming in her ears. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to take a little more time getting up. “It’s a lamp. A big lamp, outside, it’s still the middle of the night—”
”You’re a bad liar, David,” she murmured into his ear, grinning a little and pressing her hips to his. She was rewarded with a full-body shudder that ripped through him, and the choked-off sound of a moan.
“I’m an excellent liar,” he breathed. “Watch this. Let’s get up, I don’t want to stay in bed any longer—”
”Terrible,” she giggled, nipping at his ear. “Try again.” Her hand slipped beneath the covers, roaming down his muscular body, stopping to toy with his hipbone—she could feel his breath catching in his throat, hear him consciously trying to control his breathing.
”The only thing I want right now,” he attempted, his voice unsteady, “is to go outside and feed the chickens—”
”Oh, really?”
”Nothing would bring me more—oh,” he groaned as her hand found its destination, and she grinned as his eyes flickered shut.
“More what?”
”I give up,” he whispered, his head rolling back against the pillow. “You win. I’m defeated.”
She kept touching him, slow and lazy, delighted by the way he shifted in the bed, completely at her mercy—but before long, it was too frustrating to just sit and watch. So she slid her body close to his, pulling his arms around her, and he didn’t need much more encouragement than that. In one smooth movement, he took her into his arms, and she took a sharp breath in as he slid himself inside her. They moved slower than they had last night, almost lazily, taking their time as the morning sun crept across the floor of the bedroom, and as she felt that familiar climax building up in her body, she could tell from his breathing that he was close, too. How wonderful that was, Quinn thought dizzily as the wave crashed down over her, David groaning against her throat as he came with her. How wonderful to be so perfectly in sync.
David was clearly thinking similarly—he flopped onto the bed beside her, breathing hard, and she grinned to see that his hair had come loose from its binding. She pushed a damp lock of blond hair away from his eyes, and he blinked up at her, a soft, wonderous smile playing across his handsome face.
“Still not convinced this isn’t a dream,” he murmured
sleepily.
”Why’s that?”
”It’s just—unrealistic, how good you are. How good you feel.”
She hummed with pleasure, unable to stop the grin that spread across her face at that. “Glad I’m not the only one. We’re clearly both very good at this.”
”Speak for yourself,” he mumbled, his eyes sliding shut. “I’m contributing barely anything to the process. Look at you. You’re a goddess, I’ve stumbled upon a goddess in the middle of the desert. Just my luck.”
”You fought for me,” she murmured, toying with the errant lock of hair now, entranced by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. “It wasn’t smooth sailing.”
”I did. I did fight. I haven’t been in a fight for… I don’t even know how long. Bad old habit.”
”Well, you did very well,” she murmured, grinning—and making a note to ask him about that particular old habit. What did he mean? Did he have a long history of beating up coyotes? There was so much she didn’t know about him… so much she wanted to know.
”Quinn?” She liked the sound of her name on his lips. But he was looking at her, both eyes open now, something quite intent in his eyes. She blinked back at him, curious.
”What?”
”I think—“ He took a deep breath. “I think we’re—something. I don’t want to get too intense with you, but I’ve… I’ve never felt like this about anyone. Ever.” She could tell this was hard for him—she could feel his heartbeat picking up again from its drowsy somnolence, see the way he clearly wanted to avoid her eyes. She tilted her head a little, resisting the urge to look away. “I don’t know, tell me I’m an idiot if you like, but—”
”You’re not an idiot,” she said sharply. “Don’t do that. Don’t say something true then hide from it.”
He looked at her. “You’re right.”
”And for the record… I think you’re right.” Now it was her turn to feel shy, to feel an overwhelming urge to hide her face away. But when she’d just told him off for being self-effacing, she could hardly get away with it herself, could she? “I think there’s something here, too. But I don’t know how any of this is meant to work. I mean, my mother left my father, who was I meant to talk to about—“ She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to back away from this conversation. “Love and mates, and all that stuff? So I have no idea what I’m doing. But this? You? This feels right. That means something, right?”
”I’m the same,” he said quickly, and she could feel the relief in his voice. “My father was so messed up when my mother disappeared, and neither of my sisters has a mate, I just—it was always something that happened to other people, not me. I don’t know what this is. I don’t know for sure whether you’re—whether you’re it, for me. But if I had to guess…” He took a deep breath. “I’d guess it’s you. I’d be willing to bet it’s you, actually.” He laughed a little, his eyes finally dropping away from hers, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. “Is that too much, for the first date?”
”Oh, this is a date?” Quinn found herself giggling, full of uncharacteristic elation. “I didn’t think this was how dates usually went.”
”Oh, you mean your dates don’t usually start with two men fighting over you? You don’t usually have to reset your dates’ broken noses? That’s weird, this is pretty standard for me.”
”Oh yeah? How many broken noses have you had?”
”Twenty,” he said matter-of-factly, and she burst out laughing, dropped her head against his chest as he rumbled laughter too. “I’m kind of a big deal back home. All the ladies want to patch up my broken nose—”
”I’m very lucky, then,” she murmured, grinning into his chest. Could it really be this simple, she wondered? She’d spent her whole life wondering what it was to have a soulmate, whether she’d ever meet hers, whether love was something that would ever be on the cards for her. She’d spent so many years stifling those ideas, focusing on her family instead, on the farm, on carving out a little life here—and recently, on going back home, on reclaiming the territory that was supposed to be hers by right. Could she really let herself believe that this man who’d quite literally dropped out of the sky one day was destined to be hers? Why not? Why was she so reluctant to accept happiness like this when it was dropped in her lap?
”Very lucky indeed,” David was saying solemnly. “There’ll be at least a thousand jealous women back home, you mark my words.”
”Well, you’ve already beaten up your only competition,” Quinn said, grinning. “Unless Caleb comes back, of course.”
”Ugh, I hope he doesn’t.” David flicked her a glance. “I haven’t actually had my nose broken before. Other injuries, sure. I don’t… I don’t like fighting, any more. I used to do a lot of it. Used to make me feel better about… everything. Maybe it was because I learned from my father. I used to think that if I won enough fights, maybe he’d… I don’t know, be proud of me or something. But it didn’t work. And I found other hobbies.”
”Stargazing?”
”Stargazing,” he agreed with a smile. “Best thing I could’ve done, too.”
”Why’s that?”
”Because it brought me here. Brought me to you.”
She smiled, touching the side of his face fondly. “Well. I’m glad. But I’m also glad you know how to fight. You got rid of Caleb. For good, I hope.”
But David didn’t seem convinced. “Caleb didn’t seem like he was giving up for good. What if he comes back with his family?”
”A bunch of coyotes? I feel like we could take ‘em. We’re dragons.”
“That’s what we thought about wolves, but we’ve got a long history of wars that says they’re a lot tougher than you’d give them credit for. Especially working together.” David looked thoughtful. “I should probably pick up my drills again, get back into proper fighting shape. William would be delighted.”
A cold wind seemed to blow through her whole body. David glanced down at her, frowning in concern as her body stiffened in his arms. She sat up, slowly, eyes fixed on his face. “What did you say?”
”I said I might start doing drills again,” he said blankly. “Are you okay?”
”After that. You said—where did you say you were from, originally?”
”Colorado,” David said, his eyes fixed on her face, real worry beginning to take root there—but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that just now. “A valley in Colorado—”
”In the Rocky Mountains,” she said, hardly breathing. “Up high, a valley nestled between two peaks where humans never go because it’s too rocky—there’s a river that runs down the middle and herds of deer—“
”That’s right. Quinn—”
”William,” she said softly, the name twisting her mouth as she spoke it. “You said—William. Green eyes. He’s—”
”What does my father have to do with anything? What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
Quinn stared at him for what felt like years, her whole world crumbling around her. How stupid could she have been? How stupid, to expect anything to go right for her—to expect that any amount of happiness could be hers, even for a minute? His father was William. The dragon who’d stolen her home away from her. The dragon who’d banished her entire family—the dragon who’d ruined their lives, who’d made her mother leave, who’d destroyed every chance at happiness she’d ever had.
David was his son.
”Get out,” she whispered. “Get out, and don’t come back.”
Chapter 11 – David
David was reeling. Until the night before, he’d never known what it was like to get his nose broken. Now, not only did he know what it felt in a very real and literal sense, he knew what emotional whiplash felt like, too. Quinn had just completely shut down. In a matter of seconds, she’d gone from a warm, loving, funny woman who seemed—gloriously—to be just as entranced by him as he was by her… to a shell of her former self, a wrathful husk of a person who stared at him through empty blue eyes an
d ordered him out, out, out of her room, out of her house, out of her life.
What had he done, he wondered emptily. What had he done wrong? Of course, he knew—on some level, he knew what had gone wrong. It was his father. It had something to do with his father, it always did. What, had he seriously expected something to go right in his life? Something that his father wasn’t able to ruin, actively or passively? William was halfway across the country, and he was still controlling his son’s life as surely as if he’d been here. Something had happened, he’d realized that much. Quinn wouldn’t tell him what it was—he begged her, even as he was gathering his things at her instruction, pulling his clothes on, packing his belongings away into his satchel, he begged her to explain. To give him some information, anything at all, that would explain her sudden change of heart. But she’d just stayed silent—all she’d tell him was to get out.
So get out he had. He walked blindly out of the room, feeling like he was leaving all his internal organs behind, ripped out of his body and left in a pile on the bedroom floor. She’d slammed the door shut behind him, and he heard her drag a chair in front of it—there were no locks on the doors in this farmhouse. Why would there be, after all? It was a place where people trusted each other.
She’d trusted him, he thought dully, his whole chest aching like he’d been run over by a train. She’d trusted him enough to make love to him, to sleep in his arms, to hold him and kiss him and even talk to him about things he’d never talked about with anyone, about the possibility that they were soulmates. And somehow, he’d managed to let her down. He’d betrayed her, even though he hadn’t known he was betraying her… should he have mentioned his father earlier? He hadn’t wanted to, that was the truth. His relationship with his father was such a difficult, turbulent thing in his life that he’d wanted to leave it far behind him, in Colorado, back home where it all belonged.
He’d spent his whole life running from his father. But it hadn’t worked. It never worked. Sooner or later, reality came calling… and every time he tried to run, someone else got hurt. When he’d run down south to hide out in the cabin, it had been his sisters who paid the price. Now, by not telling Quinn who his father was, he’d hurt her too. And that, somehow, ached more than the pain of losing her. He’d have taken a thousand punches from a thousand angry coyotes if it meant he could have avoided hurting her. But it was too late.