“Good morning!”
Paloma’s head snapped up. She staggered to a halt as her gaze fixed on the man standing next to the open door of the hutch, one very content chicken tucked into the crook of his elbow.
Sunlight slanted over the roof of the house to gild a body of pure, dragonfired muscle. It glanced off of reflective skin so red, it reminded her of freshly crushed raspberries — a color so saturated it almost looked fake. A crown of horns held back a messy mop of dark red hair, highlighting a face of sharp angles and even sharper teeth. Those teeth were on full display as the man grinned widely, one corded arm lifted in an exuberant wave. When he moved his arm, the light moved across his skin in a strange, rippling pattern: candy red to midnight blue, back and forth, highlighting the outline of a circular tattoo on his bicep.
As if all of that wasn’t enough of a shock, he was also absolutely, completely naked.
Paloma stood frozen on the path and stared. And stared.
“Good morning,” the dragon crooned once more, dropping his hand to stroke the chicken tucked into his elbow. Only when he lowered his arm did she notice the leathery wings folded against his back. Wicked talons crowned the tops of each wing.
That’s… my dragon, she thought, trying to match the sight with the exhausted creature she left on her deck the previous night. That’s my dragon. Her eyes dropped involuntarily when something swayed out from behind his back. A tail, spiked at the end, curled around one muscled thigh.
Paloma’s eyes snapped up, her face flushing. Had it right the first time. Definitely male.
The dragon didn’t seem even a little bit concerned with his nudity. That shouldn’t have surprised her, considering it was really only humans and elves who fussed about modesty, but she didn’t exactly expect her lost dragon to show up as a naked man, either, so she thought she could be forgiven.
The dragon clicked his tongue and murmured something to the hen in his arms — Wendy, she realized, and one of her older Rhode Island Reds — before he gently deposited her on the ground. Wendy hopped off, wings flapping, to join the other girls in their hunt through the weeds.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I heard them scratching around and thought I could save you the trouble.” He flashed her a wide, white grin. “Did you sleep well? I tried not to wake you.”
The dragon sauntered closer. His feet were shaped differently than hers: in his bipedal form, the five toes were split, the sole arched high like the foot of a bird’s for ease of gripping and takeoff. The sharp claws on the ends of his toes crunched in the gravel, but with the way his weight was distributed, he moved much more quietly than she did.
Paloma swallowed. Why was she so flustered? It was a damn miracle that he was still around. It was a good thing. She just… didn’t really think her plan through. Getting the dragon to her home and then keeping him there until she figured out a way to help him seemed impossible enough. She didn’t consider the fact that he was a person, too, and that she might have to deal with a huge, naked man in her yard for her trouble.
“I’m sorry,” she finally croaked, aware that she’d done nothing but stare at him for some time. “I’m just surprised to see you here. I thought you’d gone. And that you’d be…” She gestured vaguely toward him.
“I couldn’t leave if I tried. My wings will need a lot of recovery time before I can attempt another flight. That, and I didn’t feel like walking down a mountain.” His tone was wry and his expression lacked any of the haughty pride she might have expected from a dragon. While she didn’t know much about them personally, she knew enough from feeds and general cultural osmosis to get the impression that dragons leaned toward cockiness rather than easy vulnerability.
“I see.” Paloma’s eyes flickered back and forth, landing for a moment on all that fine red skin before jumping away again. She didn’t want to ogle him, but what could she do? Human eyes were naturally drawn to bright, saturated colors.
And he was terribly, terribly pretty.
Paloma felt her cheeks heat and desperately hoped he would credit her blush to the biting cold. She had a tendency to be awkward around strangers, but usually she could at least manage to look at them. She could hardly look at the dragon without her stomach dropping in a low, excited swoop.
Unnerved, she twisted her hands into the material of her robe. “Well, uh…” The words died on her lips when his tail snaked out from behind his thigh once more, this time daring to brush the spiked end against the rubber toe of her boot. Jumping at the unexpected contact, Paloma’s eyes darted back up to meet his.
The dragon cocked his head to one side. His ruby eyes were fixed on her face. A slow smile curled at the corners of his full lips, effectively knocking any rational thought from her mind. “You have a very fine roost,” he told her in a voice that was all deep baritone rumble.
Paloma flicked her gaze around the yard before bringing it back to the dragon. “I… yes?”
The dragon didn’t blink much. Those ruby eyes were locked on her face, their slit pupils expanding and contracting in a way she found deeply unsettling, as if they wished to capture every micro-expression, every changeable shadow created by the sunrise. “Very fine,” he repeated, flicking his claws over his shoulder in a careless, expansive gesture, “but your dwelling needs work.”
Paloma frowned. “My dwelling? You mean my house?” She glanced over her shoulder at the home she’d grown up in, the place that was a mish-mash of lab and home and old mining shack, where all her memories and all her love found purchase. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It should be bigger.” Paloma turned her head back around just in time to see the dragon puff up, his broad shoulders straightening as his wings flexed behind his back. “It should be nicer, with bigger windows and stone walls that can withstand the weather at this altitude. Your deck should be reinforced to take more weight, and there will need to be a nesting wing added.”
“What? I’m sorry, that’s— Who do you think you are?” When she finally started to process what he was saying, Paloma bristled, all her sympathy for the rogue withering under his frank assessment of her home. Yeah, she struggled to keep some parts of it up to snuff on her own, but it wasn’t that bad. The roof needed to be replaced, but who had the time for that sort of thing? At any rate, it still kept out the worst of the weather.
And I don’t even want to know what the hell a nesting wing is!
“You can’t just stand there and judge my house!” She pushed her chin out and narrowed her eyes. “It’s not like it’s your problem, anyway! It’s perfectly fine as it is.”
The dragon made a soft whistling sound in the back of his throat and raised his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “I don’t mean to offend, sweet treat. I only mean to point out how I will improve things. A fine roost like this deserves a fine dwelling to match it. Now that it’s mine, I’ll see it done.” He tilted his head to one side, considering his words as he gazed over her shoulder. “It is much too small for me and any offspring. Don’t worry, I’ll have it taken care of so it doesn’t trouble you.”
“Did you just call me sweet treat?” She stared at the cords of his neck for three seconds, trying to comprehend what he was saying. “Wait, did you… this isn’t your roost!”
The dragon made a tsking sound and raised his arms over his head. Grasping his elbows, he stretched, shamelessly showing off all that stunning dragon skin and muscle. Even his wings got in on the act. They peeked out from behind him; strong bone and flexible muscle moving to hint at just how massive his wingspan must be.