Slowly leaning his upper body onto his folded forearms in what he hoped looked like a casual move and not the desperate need to lay down that it was, Artem watched her from under half-lidded eyes. He didn’t want to sleep. No matter how badly he needed the recovery time, all Artem wanted to do was drink in the sight of her and learn every little thing he could. Dragons were acquisitive and territorial by nature, so Artem didn’t question the way his instinct tied his heart to hers so quickly. Once a dragon Chose, there was no going back. He couldn’t even imagine it. He didn’t want to.
So pretty, he thought, chest expanding with a rush of warmth. So sweet smelling. I can’t wait to find out if she tastes more like oranges or vanilla.
“Do you eat eggs?”
He tracked her as she hustled toward the table with a pitcher of water and a thick, bubbled glass. Her hair was a mess from the wind and she still had her dirty rubber boots on, but Artem hadn’t been so struck by the sight of something since his very first flight. Like seeing that first sunrise burst over a glittering horizon from high in the air, the sight and smell and sound of her burned a place for her and her alone in his mind.
“Yes,” he answered, stomach cramping hard at the mention of food. He desperately needed those calories. Back home, he would have eaten pack after pack of perfectly designed protein gels to replenish his fat stores, but eggs would work. “Dragons will eat most things.”
She set the glass down next to his right elbow before filling it with water from the pitcher, a fanciful ceramic number with colorful painted chickens and flowers around the bottom. “Right, okay. Um, I’ll make eggs and pancakes. How many do you want?”
Briefly eyeing the pitcher, he breathed deeply. “As much as you can make.” Catching her baffled look, he continued, “I haven’t eaten in longer than I can remember. I need to replenish my stores before I sleep again, or else I might fall into a coma.” He grimaced. “I will fall into a coma.”
Her fingers clenched around the pitcher’s handle as her face went ghostly pale. “That can happen?”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “It’s not uncommon for a soldier to fly for so long that when they land, they never wake up again. Haven’t you ever heard of Marathon, the dragon who flew so hard and fast that he died after delivering a message to his king?”
“I guess, but I never…” Letting go of the pitcher so abruptly water nearly sloshed over the edge, she turned to head back to the kitchen, a stark, determined look on her face. “I’ll make breakfast quick, then. Luckily we have a lot of eggs.”
“Wait!” Before she could leave him, Artem gently grabbed her wrist. She was warm and silky smooth beneath his palm. “Wait, you haven’t told me your name yet.”
She stared down at him for a beat, lips parted with surprise. “Oh, I’m Paloma. Dr. Paloma Contreras.”
“Doctor?” Artem leaned forward as much as his muscles would allow. “Doctor of what?”
“Electric field and m-weather phenomena,” she answered. Her gaze flicked down to where he still held her wrist before moving around the home. “This house is mostly built as a research station. I monitor the atmosphere for signs of electric storms and m-weather, but my main focus is spotting spontaneous sapient manifestations.”
Artem released her wrist slowly, but only so he could drag the pads of his fingers down the silky underside to briefly brush her palm. “Ah,” he sighed, more certain than ever that he’d made the right choice. “I knew you were smart.”
He watched, delighted, as her cheeks flushed. “I should go make those eggs.”
This time, he let her go, but not without regret. Reaching for the pitcher of water rather than the glass, he turned her name over in his head again and again as he brought it to his lips for a long pull. Paloma Contreras. Dr. Paloma Contreras. Paloma, my mate. Paloma Contreras-Aždaja.My mate, the doctor.
It had an awfully nice ring to it.