Listen, every woman secretly wants a dragon! No shame, ladies! We can admit we love those sexy, winged hunks. But for those of us who dare to step into the clawed embrace, be prepared for growling, possessiveness, and so! much! spoiling! If you’re a woman who likes her freedom to kiss and be kissed by the flavor of the night (go, girl!) you’re going to want to steer clear of a dragon. Once they’ve decided on you, the only lips you’ll be smooching are the kind that can breathe fire. Hot, right?!
Paloma’s lips parted around a broken, entirely unintelligible sound. No, that couldn’t be right. He’d only just met her. He was a dragon, for godssakes. She wasn’t anything to him. There was no way he—
Artem’s fingers skimmed back down to rest against the soft skin behind her knee. It tickled, but only for a moment. Without warning, he pressed two knuckles into the tendons, buckling her leg.
Arms flailing, Paloma landed on her hands and knees beside him. Before she could catch her breath or attempt to untangle herself from the mound of pillows and blankets he surrounded himself with, Artem had one arm wrapped around her waist. He dragged her down into the nest until she was nestled against the smooth planes of his rumbling chest.
Paloma gaped at the ceiling. The light of the moon made strange shapes on the warped plaster. It was something she hadn’t thought about since she was little and slept in the living room with her friends. It was also something she didn’t get time to admire.
Artem’s wing stretched out and over her, blocking out the light and ensconcing her in a cocoon of warmth and deliciously scented skin.
“There,” he sighed into her hair. “Now I can really sleep.”
“You’ve been asleep for twelve hours!” It was a weird thing to quibble over, considering her position, but Paloma still struggled to wrap her head around the fact that she was cuddling with a naked dragon, let alone form a coherent sentence about it.
She felt his nose brush her forehead as he moved his head back and forth, nuzzling into her hair. His arm was a hard band around her back. It held her tightly against his chest, which had ceased its rumbling in favor of a long, soft whistle that did strange things to the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. “Got to sleep more.” His voice was barely a whisper, but he was so close that she had no problem making out the words. “Better with you. Keep you safe.”
“This is my house. I’m perfectly safe—”
“Shh,” he hushed, palming the back of her head. His claws stroked through her hair in a soothing caress. “Rest, treat.”
Paloma flushed. How exactly was she supposed to rest? She was plastered against a naked dragon. He might be on the brink of passing out again, but she was alight with several different flavors of anxiety, nervousness, and reluctant arousal. There was no way she would be able to relax enough to sleep.
“I don’t have any blankets,” she complained, inanely, like that was the reason she couldn’t cuddle with him.
Artem grunted softly before removing his arm just long enough to drag a blanket over them both. She’d only just started to wriggle out from under his wing when he clamped it around her again. “Naughty treat,” he murmured, sliding his palm under her sweatshirt. “No escaping a dragon.”
Paloma tried to get her breathing under control. “Is this… is this a cultural thing? Like, needing to sleep with someone?”
She thought she felt a laugh rattle through his chest. “Will you stop squirming if I say yes?”
“Maybe.”
For lack of anything better to do with them, Paloma curled her arms against her chest and closed her eyes. His scent and warmth was a heady swirl around her, enhanced by the feeling of being cocooned by his wing. Artem smelled like something crisp and unidentifiable. Not quite pine. Not quite mint, but something close enough to tantalize.
“Then yes.” Artem’s breath ghosted through her hair. “I need you to sleep here or I’ll be insulted and… burn your weird little dwelling down. There you go. Perfect excuse to stay.”
The hand pressed against her naked spine was warm, and so was the chest she could feel rising and falling. Paloma was surprised. She’d thought that, what with their breathing cold fire and all, that dragons would be chilly bed companions. That wasn’t the case at all.
The longer she lay there, listening to Artem’s breath even out and his heart beat a strong rhythm in his chest, the more his body heat built under the shelter of his wing. It was the coziest she’d been in… years.
As the stress of the day and the comfort of her position slowly began to drag her down into sleep, Paloma gave into temptation and very carefully pressed her fingertips against the skin just above Artem’s belly button. Staring at the shape her hand made against his dark skin, she marveled at the texture of it.
Smooth, but hard. Soft, but sort of… textured. Red, then dark blue. Amazing.
For a brief moment, she let herself sink into the fantasy that his embrace offered.
A small, hidden part of her thrilled at the idea of such an incredible being looking at her and thinking she was the one worth keeping. What would it be like to be the subject of a dragon’s devotion? Would it be endless nights like this, full of warmth and a sense of safety? Would his easy smile fill up all the lonely corners of her heart?
Paloma felt the muscles of her throat tighten. It was dangerous to think about. If she let herself revel in the feeling of being with someone, it would only hurt her that much more when she was alone again.
What was she compared to him? A frail, soft-skinned human with no magic. Not a fierce dragon or a powerful witch. She was just Paloma, and that meant she was a sensible, reasonable arrant who knew her place in their complex world.
Artem wouldn’t stay. Her life would go on. End of story.
And if that thought made something inside her shrivel up, then that was her problem to deal with later, on her own, just like everything else.