Artem loved watchingthe way Paloma’s eyes widened when he laid her back in the nest. “Oh,” she breathed, glancing around like she was seeing the pillows and blankets and huge, dragon-grade mattress for the first time. “It’s so soft!”
He smiled crookedly down at her. “That’s the point. A nest should be the most comfortable place in the dwelling, so a mate never wants to leave it. Why do you think I kept trying to get you to feel the blankets?”
Paloma flushed. Her skin was a lovely reddish gold, and when she blushed it took on a luminous quality that made him sigh with pleasure. Like the sun shining through silk. He fleetingly hoped that their offspring would take her color, but he knew it was unlikely. Dragon genes were dominant in the extreme. No doubt their babies would take on the flashy colors of his line. Adapted to impress even at a glance, dragons were notoriously colorful.
“I thought you just really liked blankets,” she replied, wiggling a little. “I get it now.”
Artem dipped his head to smile against the curve of her naked shoulder. “So you’ll stay in the nest now? Always?”
A shadow passed over her expression. “Artem… As much as I want to, I’m not sure this is going to work.”
Undeterred, he skated one hand up her naked leg, gently urging it to bend up and to the side as he settled into the cradle of her thighs. His wings flexed outward once, stretching aching muscles, before they curled inward again, sealing them both in a comforting semi-darkness. “Why not?”
He pressed a soft kiss to the column of her throat and listened to her answer turn into a sigh. “Because we don’t even know each other.”
“Then let’s get to know one another.” He skimmed his hand up her thigh, tracing the curve of her side and upward, until he could curl his fingers around her jaw. Lifting his head to meet her searching gaze, he said, “I am Artem Aždaja, son of Constantin Aždaja and Valerie Sundström, first cousin to the Isand of the Draakonriik. I have a little sister named Alexandra, who is ten years my junior and a huge pain in my ass.”
Artem lowered his head to slide his lips over the swell of her cheekbone, the fringe of her lashes, the smooth plane of her brow. “I went to school for business and economics, but I ended up serving in the ’Riik air force immediately after school. I left fifteen years ago to help Taevas run the trade arm of the treasury.” He stopped for a moment to press his lips against hers. Slowly, with all the reverence he felt for the place she now held in his life, he lavished her with one kiss after another.
Gods, but he would never get used to the taste of her: the tart bite of orange with smoky vanilla, layers of rich flavor that made him want to run his tongue over every inch of her.
When she was soft and dazed beneath him, he continued, husky-voiced, “For the past two years, Taevas has been training me to take up a diplomatic position.”
He felt her take in a sharp breath. “You’re important. Really important.”
Artem shrugged as he made his way down her throat, over her collarbone, to run his tongue along the curve of her breast. He followed the sweet curve reverently, with all the adoration in deserved. “I suppose. I do what I have to for the ’Riik and for Clan Aždaja. It’s our way.”
“But don’t you see? That’s why we’re not going to work.” He felt her shudder when he gently, gently closed his sharp teeth over the delicate skin of her nipple. “You’re— important. I’m just a scientist. You can’t stay here with me.”
Blowing a cool stream of air over her wet skin, he looked up at her through his lashes. “Who says?”
Her cheeks were flushed a dark red and her eyes were hooded, but even desire couldn’t wash away the real fear he saw in every line of her expression. Her voice was whisper soft when she answered, “I live a very small life, Artem. I always have. What if it turns out you can’t stand it?”
Artem laid his head on the soft skin of her chest. Her heart beat a quick rhythm under his ear, a soothing song that called to every part of him. “I don’t care how small your life is, as long as there is room for me in it.”
Her hand came up to brush the curls away from his cheek. She traced the crown of horns with the tips of her fingers, her eyes glittering with tears in the half-light filtering through his wings. Outside, the wind howled. “I’m scared that if I make room for you, it’ll crush me when you leave.”
“Why do you think I’m going to leave you, treat?” He rubbed his palm up and down the inside of one silky thigh, soothing her. “Tell me where this fear comes from so we can conquer it together.”
Her eyes closed. “My mother didn’t stick around. She hated the mountain, and I think she got frustrated with my dad. He wasn’t… He wasn’t the most attentive person.” There was a wealth of old hurt in that simple statement. Artem hated hearing, knowing that there was no way to erase the hurts of the past for her. “He loved me, but he was always preoccupied. It never really felt like he was all there with me. Once I was old enough, I was basically on my own. The only time I really got to spend with him was when we worked on stuff together and when he needed me to take care of him.”
Artem watched her throat convulse, his chest constricting hard with sympathetic pain. He didn’t like hearing what he suspected was true: that his mate had never really known true affection, let alone what it was like to be cared for. He wanted to believe her father must have loved her, but he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that the senior Contreras would let his child become his caretaker when she was so very young.
“For my whole life, it was really only the two of us,” she continued, fingers threading through his hair in an unconscious search for comfort. “Dad wasn’t attentive, but I loved him. He taught me everything he knew. He raised me by himself.” A tear slid out from under her lashes to dampen the wispy hair by her temples. “And then one day he dropped dead while fixing a generator. I tried to do CPR, but it didn’t work. I’ve been alone up here ever since.”
Artem turned his head to kiss the spot directly over her heart. “Is that how you want things to stay?”
She let out a shaky exhale. “No.”
He could feel the truth of that single word in his bones. His mate was terribly lonely and probably had been her entire life. At some point, that need for companionship and affection warped itself into the driving desire to care for others — only to have the one person she loved in the world brutally ripped from her in a way that made her feel like it was her fault.
It was no wonder she didn’t trust that he would stay. There was probably a large part of her that, like a wounded animal, lashed out with fear at the idea of being hurt again.
Artem took in a huge breath. The scent of her, vanilla and orange and that sweet spice of desire, comforted the aching creature in him that longed to fight an opponent that couldn’t be harmed. Her hurts were his now. He couldn’t fight them for her, but he could support her, love her, until they faded to dull memory.
If it was possible, he would keep her safe under his wing forever. He couldn’t undo the wounds of the past, but he could make damn sure there would be none in her future.
Speaking directly against her heart, he said, “A dragon only Chooses once, Paloma. We can’t help it. It’s like a space opens up inside of us when we Choose, but it’s a space that only fits one person.” There was a scientific reason for Choosing, he knew. Something tied up in that same troublesome, essential part of their brains that held their sense of direction. But he didn’t particularly care about the specifics of it.