by Shae Mallak
"Whoa," I murmured as I exhaled. "I didn't realize it was literal."
Jonah turned around to face me again and my hand grazed over his skin until it rested on his chest and the dragon followed.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he groaned.
"I guess not, no," I said honestly, tracing my finger over the pattern of scales along the dragon's back.
"That is quite literally, as you say, my dragon," Jonah explained. "It's always a part of me. Usually its dormant when I'm in human form—and you saw it go fully active earlier—but sometimes strong emotion can trigger a sort of semi-active state."
"Strong emotion?" The question left my lips before I could stop it. I may not know much about shifters, but I knew enough about men—about Jonah—to understand the sort of strong emotion to which he was referring.
"Ev," he grinned. "I know you're not that innocent," he chuckled. The room suddenly felt a great deal warmer than before. Jonah brushed the tips of his fingers against my face, trailing a hot line down my cheek, over my collarbone and stopping just above my cleavage, his eyes glued to mine.
No, I wasn't that innocent, but I also wasn't sure I was ready either. The last few days had been ridiculously crazy—who was to say what I was feeling wasn't merely the result of a traumatic experience? I'd been attacked by a dragon and fled a burning building—not to mention discovered that the man I'd been spending the last three days of my life with, per his contract, was a shape-shifter who breathed fire and sprouted wings. There was a lot going on—a lot I still had yet to get any real answers for—and I was ninety-nine percent certain that having sex with Jonah was only going to add to my list of things to deal with, not negate it.
I took a step back and Jonah's hand dropped to his side. I avoided his gaze, unable to handle the hurt look I knew would be there. I didn't want to hurt him, I just...I needed a little more time to process it all! It'd only been three days since my life first turned upside down—three!—and already I was feeling things for him a smarter woman would know better than to let herself feel. But I couldn't focus on that. There was way too much other stuff going on to let myself dwell on the feelings I may or may not have for Jonah Carson, Ash Mountain Dragon.
"We should both get some sleep," I said quietly as a million thoughts whirled through my head. I would be able to concentrate better in the morning.
"Right," he agreed with a sad nod. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."
"Jonah, I didn't—" I started to protest, but he was already out the door before I could say more.
And say what? I want to sleep with you but not sleep with you? I'm sorry, I don't love you but would you please hold me tonight anyway? Even I knew it was too much to ask of him. So instead of going after him, I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep.
The next morning I sported puffy eyes and a red nose from a night of crying but I didn't care enough to bother trying to hide it. I vaguely heard Greg and the twins downstairs making a ruckus—probably over breakfast—and automatically got up to help.
Jonah looked uncomfortable on the floor in the hall, still fast asleep despite the noise downstairs. He must have really been exhausted. I felt bad that he spent yet a third night in a row sleeping on the floor instead of in a bed, especially after what he went through the day before. He didn't give any details, but I could imagine he and the other dragon didn't just have a friendly chat.
I knelt down beside him, glancing over what parts of him I could see for any bruising or cuts I didn't see the night before, distracted as I was. I didn't see any evidence of a fight or that he'd been caught in a massive fire—of course, dragons would be fireproof, wouldn't they? Those scales probably protected him a good deal from battle wounds, too, I imagined.
I did see, however, a few lingering tears on his cheek that stopped me cold. I gently wiped them away, consequently waking him up in the process. He blinked up at me in a sleepy daze and his cheeks blushed pink.
"Silly man," I smiled at him, resting a hand on his arm, the dragon tattoo returned to its usual size and place. "I would've let you sleep in the bed," I murmured.
He locked his arms around me, tugged me over into his lap and buried his face in the crook of my neck. I didn't hold back my laughter, sifting my fingers through his hair, letting the silky strands twist around my fingers, smelling of my shampoo.
"We should talk," he said, muffled against my skin.
"Understatement of the year," I remarked dryly. He hummed an agreement into my neck. "Are you gonna talk to my throat the whole time, then?" I quipped. He grinned and nodded. "So," I sighed. "What happened?" I asked. I wasn't sure where to start, there was so much we needed to talk about, so I started with the most recent and go from there.
"My claim was challenged," he said, lifting his head to meet my eyes at last.
"Claim?" I echoed. I'd heard that word used a few times the last few days and still wasn't sure what anyone meant by it. "Like your house?" I guessed. "Er, your territory?" I tried to remember what Greg told me about shifters and dragons, but from the look on Jonah's face I knew I guessed wrong. "Oh," I said softly. "Your claim on me," I corrected myself, and he nodded. "Is that the danger you were so worried about?" I asked next. Was all the fuss because he was worried about someone challenging his claim?
Jonah took a deep breath and let it out all at once. "Not exactly," he answered a bit reluctantly. That was comforting, I thought sarcastically. What else do I need to worry about now besides dragons and fires and a city full of paranormals I just found out about? I supposed the good news was I wasn’t fated to die like I thought, but it was only a small consolation in light of everything else coming to light.
"Oo-kay," I said slowly, drawing out the word as I gathered my thoughts and tried to focus. "So what were you worried about, then?" I inquired next.
"How much did Greg tell you last night?" he asked.
"He told me there were all kinds of shifters—all kinds of paranormals—and a lot of them live in Sinclair Falls for some reason. He called me a dragon-breeder and tried to explain what it meant, but I didn't really understand all of it," I admitted. "And he said dragons were rare and he seemed really worried that another one showed up in Sinclair Falls and attacked us," I summarized.
"I guess I'll start from the beginning," he replied. "The most important part you know—I am a dragon shifter. I can change my form between human and dragon, but am always both."
"The dragon tattoo," I nodded, running a finger down the dragon's spine like I did the night before. It didn't shiver or move but Jonah did, his arms tightening around me and his arousal starting to stiffen beneath my ass. I tried to sit very still.
"Yes," he eventually answered. "Like that."
"So can you breath fire and stuff when you're in human form, or only when you're in the other form?" I asked curiously. That might explain why my skin sizzled and burned everywhere he touched me.
"Not exactly the same," he shrugged. "But there are some things I can do that are beyond a normal human's abilities."
"Such as?" I pressed when he didn't elaborate right away.
"Well, my body temperature is higher, for starters," he grinned. "If you ever took me to a human doctor they would tell you I have an impossibly high fever," he chuckled.
"Human doctor? So there are, uh, what do you call—paranormal doctors? Like, here in Sinclair Falls?"
"Of course!" he smiled. "What sort of paranormal haven would we be if we didn't have paranormals in almost every industry to cater to their needs?"
"So they really are everywhere!" I exclaimed.
"Some of us may be animals but we're still civilized," he retorted pointedly.
"Except when they're burning down your house," I rebutted.
"An exception to the rule," he replied firmly. "Whoever attacked us—"
"You don't know who it was?" I asked, interrupting.
"No," he answered sadly. "I never got a chance to see his human form. I chased him a while
and we fought—made quite a mess, too—and then when it was clear he was going to lose, he ran away like a coward. But whoever attacked us, did so apart from the normal standard of conduct. No one challenges a claim anymore—that's ancient rulebook stuff," Jonah scoffed. "Then again," he pinned his gaze on me. "You're probably the most valuable person or possession in the paranormal world; there hasn't been a known dragon-breeder in decades. Something that important makes people do crazy things—wild, dangerous things."
"Okay—" I held up a hand to stop his rambling. "Explain this dragon-breeder thing to me a little more. You and Greg both talk like it's this huge deal, but I'm just a human—what is so rare and valuable about that?"
"You're not just human," Jonah replied seriously. "Somewhere in your family history there is some kind of magic in your blood, or else you wouldn't be a breeder."
"But how do you know?" I countered. "I mean, isn't there a possibility that you got it all wrong or something and I'm not as valuable as you think I am? That I'm just...normal?"
"You're not normal, Ev," Jonah said softly. "And you'll always be valuable to me."
"Don't be cheesy," I muttered.
"I'm serious, Ev!" Jonah insisted.
"So am I! What if this is all a huge mistake? How do you know I am what you say I am?" I pressed. I had to know—I had to know he was sure. Because if there was a chance—even a small chance—that all of this was just a case of mistaken identity or something stupid like that, I was going to lose my mind! Greg said it was like a gut feeling, but gut feelings could be wrong.
"It's not a mistake, Evelyn," Jonah insisted. "That I can promise you."
"But how do you –"
He interrupted me with a kiss, effectively stopping any and all arguments I had prepared. My mind went blank and it was just the two of us in that moment, kissing each other like we needed each other to keep breathing. Jonah pulled away first and I was admittedly reluctant to let it end.
"I just know," Jonah said.
"Uhm...hate to interrupt..." Greg said reluctantly from the landing.
"Then don't," Jonah growled back at him.
I ignored Jonah's surly response and focused my attention on Greg, feeling a little silly talking to him from Jonah's lap on the floor. "What's up, Greg?" I replied congenially. Jonah grumbled under his breath but I didn't hear most of it and so continued to ignore him.
"There are a few people downstairs who'd like to talk to you," Greg informed.
"And I'd like to talk to her up here," Jonah retorted. "I was here first—they can wait." I wanted to poke him and reprimand him for acting like a child but refrained... barely.
"Jonah," I groaned at him instead in irritation. "Who is it, Greg?" I asked with a sigh when Jonah's arms tightened around me.
"Officer Hobbs and Cutler," he answered seriously, glancing behind him as if he expected them to be following him up the stairs. "They won't say what it's about but I doubt it's good."
"Alright," I replied. "I'll be right down."
"Actually," Greg held up a finger, then pointed it at the two of us. "They want to talk to both of you," he said.
"Well, this can't be good," Jonah muttered. He released his hold on me—although rather reluctantly—to allow me to stand and followed me downstairs to the living room.
The two police officers appeared to be polar opposites. One of them was a middle-aged man with mostly-gray hair and a belly from too much indulgence while the other, who was studying the pictures arranged on one wall, was a young, blonde woman who stood as tall as her partner and was as skinny as a pole.
"Carson," the older man greeted when we entered. "Good to see you again—although I wish it were under better circumstances," he grimaced, shaking Jonah's hand firmly. "Miss Aberdeen, how are you?" he turned to me, but didn't offer his hand, I noticed. He probably spared himself a glare from Jonah, but I still felt like I'd been snubbed. He didn't seem like a rude man and his inquiring question to me seemed to be made with genuine concern.
"I've had worse days," I replied, trying to remain vaguely neutral on the subject until I knew why they came.
"What brings you over, Hobbs?" Jonah asked, cutting straight to the point for me.
"I'm afraid nothing good," the older man said, confirming our thoughts. "You know Cutler?" Hobbs asked.
"Only by reputation," Jonah replied, nodding acknowledgment to the woman, who left her study of my family photos to join the conversation and nodding back at Jonah. I felt oddly left out of the conversation.
"Look," Hobbs sighed. "We have some news and a couple questions for both of you," he said, although his eyes remained on Jonah. It felt like a warning and I was afraid of what he was going to say next that was so bad.
"Well, spit it out then," Jonah grunted impatiently. Cutler frowned at him but Hobbs just took a deep breath and launched straight into it.
"It's about the body found in the fire yesterday," he said, glancing at both of us before his gaze stuck on me. My gut twisted in dread. I didn't want to hear what he was about to tell me. I didn't want to believe what my gut told me he was going to say. "We believe it's your father," he said gently.
My stomach dropped and I felt like all the air got sucked out of the room as my head spun. I leaned forward until my head was between my knees to try to keep from puking and stared at the dingy carpet. Dad was dead. It couldn't be—why would Dad be on that damned mountain anyway?!
"He wouldn't be on Ash Mountain," I protested aloud, talking to the floor. "He couldn't be—why would he—" I stumbled through my denial until I felt Jonah's hand rubbing my back. I saw the tears drip from the tip of my nose before I even realized I was crying.
"We believe he was dead before the fire," Cutler said, speaking for the first time. "We suspect foul play—" Hobbs moved his foot to kick her.
"I know this is difficult, Miss Aberdeen," Hobbs said, "But we need to know where both of you were yesterday."
"I was here," I answered automatically. I sniffed and wiped at my cheeks, sitting up slowly and hoping what little there was in my stomach would stay there.
"All day?" Cutler pressed.
"No," I replied honestly. I took a deep, fortifying breath, Jonah's hand never leaving my back. "I was with Jonah at the cottage for part of the day," I recounted.
"Cottage?" Cutler asked curiously, arching a meticulously groomed eyebrow.
"My cabin on the mountain," Jonah clarified. "We left here about mid-morning, visited Greg and the twins at the park, then headed back to my house. She fled back for town when the fire started."
"And where were you?" Cutler asked, narrowing her eyes at him. Hobbs rolled his eyes but didn't comment.
"Trying to stop the fire," Jonah answered easily. "Several people saw me up there, ask around."
"Do you know how it started?" Hobbs put in, cutting off Cutler's next question.
"I do," Jonah nodded, eyeing Cutler before turning his full attention back to Hobbs. "You won't believe me."
"Try us," Cutler said firmly.
"Just tell us what you know," Hobbs encouraged.
"You're not gonna like it," Jonah warned.
"Spit it out, Carson," Cutler snapped. Hobbs glared at her.
I watched the interaction in dumb silence, waiting to see how much Jonah would reveal to them. Did they know about paranormals too, like Greg? Or were they just regular human policemen, in which case we would have to omit certain details and make up others....
"We were attacked," Jonah said after a lengthy pause. "By a dragon."
Cutler snorted in disbelief. "Please," she scoffed. "Don't patronize me, Carson. What really happened? Lose your temper, maybe?" she suggested with a bit of a sneer that made me want to smack it off her face. Well, that answered one question at least. They knew about paranormals.
"Not the time, Cutler," Hobbs scolded his partner. "You're sure? A dragon?" Hobbs asked.
"Yes," Jonah nodded. "I didn't see who it was, but it was a male green-back, slightly smaller than m
e. He attacked the both of us at the house. If it weren't for that glass ceiling Evelyn never would've spotted him and he likely would've gotten away without sight or sound."
"You saw it too, then?" Cutler asked me. It felt like a challenge—like she was testing my loyalty to Jonah and his story. I bristled at her unspoken implication and gave her my best glare. How dare she come into my home, tell me my father was dead—maybe murdered—and then try to get me to turn on Jonah and tell her he was lying. Even if he was, I wouldn't admit it to her.
"Yes," I answered firmly. "As he said—it was a green dragon, circled the house a few times then spit fire at us and circled around to hit us again. Jonah told me to run and so I ran."
