by Imogen Sera
She stretched slowly. She was sore all over, but in an exquisite way that reminded her of exactly what had made her sore.
She turned in his arms to face him, delighting in the feeling of his strong arms around her. He was smiling softly at her, his eyes bright and face perfectly relaxed. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
“Good morning,” she breathed, pulling his face to hers and kissing him softly, slowly.
“It’s a very good morning,” he murmured after she pulled away. “The best morning.”
Ingrid grinned and rolled her eyes affectionately. “You’re finally free today,” she reminded him. “What are you going to do?”
He paused. “I think I’ll write to my brothers. I don’t know what to do about this shrine,” he admitted.
Ingrid nodded, biting her lip thoughtfully. “Will you stay here?” she asked hesitantly, looking up at him. “We have so many rooms, and you’re welcome here, of course.”
He grinned, and the tension that she hadn’t known she was holding turned into relief. “I’d love to.” He kissed her forehead quickly.
Ingrid grinned back.
They stayed like that for a long time, kissing, touching, talking about the day ahead until they couldn’t postpone starting their day any longer. Helias rose first to dress, while Ingrid’s thoughts were elsewhere.
“Do you know how the shrine works?” Ingrid asked as he was pulling his shirt over his head.
“I have an idea, but I’m not sure of anything.” He glanced at Ingrid and saw her questioning look. “I think it’s corrupting the area, and the corruption is what’s causing the illness. The earth itself is corrupted, that’s why nothing will grow.”
“I thought I was just a bad gardener,” Ingrid said thoughtfully, sitting up. “But are you sure it’s not just a coincidence that it’s down there?”
“Oh Ingrid,” he sighed. “I’m sure. It’s not a normal illness.”
“How do you know?” she insisted.
He paused. “The woman—the sick one that ran—I tried to heal her. If it was any mortal illness she would have completely recovered. And the herbs, I grew them myself. They should be halfway up your house by now, but they’re barely surviving with daily encouragement.”
Ingrid looked at him, intrigued. “You can do that?”
He nodded. “My brothers and I all have different...talents.”
She rose, still nude, and crossed the room to her closet. “Will your brothers come here also?”
He watched her intently, eyes blazing, not acknowledging the question. “You’re very distracting.”
She laughed, her cheeks coloring. “I’m distracting? I haven’t been able to get anything done for a month because of you.” A look of pride crossed his face, and she grinned to herself as she selected clothing. “Your brothers? Here?” she reminded him.
He grinned at her. “I’ll request that they come to see it themselves, if that’s alright with you.”
Ingrid shrugged, pulling a gown over her head. “Of course. As long as they promise not to burn down the house.”
He stood in front of her and pulled her to him, kissing her harder than she’d anticipated. He pulled away after a minute and she was breathless. He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. “We’ll fix this, Ingrid, I promise. With their help it will be put right in no time.”
She nodded, warmed from his touch but chilled from his words. As she looked up in his eyes, the familiar dread washed over her, quickly and heavily. She excused herself promptly, making an excuse about forgetting some duty. She strode along the hallway, breathing heavily. As she reached the infirmary, she sank into her chair, hugged her arms around herself, and couldn’t stop shivering for a long time.
•••••
Ingrid sat at her desk, reading over the note she’d penned for the fifth time. She nodded to herself, resolved. She rose to find Lily.
The sky was streaked with pink and gold through the arched library windows, and Helias watched it with disgust. The sunrise today had been one of the best times of his life, and the sunset filled him with dread.
Ingrid had disappeared all day until dinner, when she had slipped into a seat between Lily and Ian and carefully avoided his gaze. His anger had taken him by surprise, and he’d had to leave the room before he turned the dining hall into ash. She was his.
He turned back to his letters. He’d written three of the five, each longer than the last. He hadn’t had any communication with his brothers since they’d all been banished, but he was fairly sure the letters could reach them easily. He struggled, as he always did, with knowing whether to kindly request their presence or to demand it. He knew which method his father would wish him to follow.
He scarcely dared to even think of this being successfully resolved and being able to return home. It had been his driving force for nearly a decade, and he wondered frequently what Arnes was like now that there had been time to adjust to the great loss of life. He didn’t know what he’d be returning to, but he yearned for it regardless. He was starting his letter to Caelian, his second youngest brother, when he heard a nervous cough behind him. He turned to see the tall blond woman standing awkwardly.
She smiled at him anxiously. He rose from his seat, and she took a step back. “Hi Helias, I’m Lily.”
He nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Likewise,” she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Listen, Ingrid’s my best friend, so I feel obligated to give you this because she asked.” She handed him a piece of paper folded into a small square. “But as her best friend, I feel like I should warn you that she can be a real moron sometimes.”
He set the paper on his desk, not wanting to touch it for longer than necessary. He felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. He managed to nod at Lily, thanking her.
She smiled sympathetically at him. “Please let me know if you need anything,” she said gently before she left the room.
After she closed the door Helias set the unread note on his desk, pointedly ignoring it, and turned back to writing his letter. He wrote two words before unfolding the note, breathing heavily. It was short and polite, apologizing for her behavior the night before and assuring him that he was still welcome at the manor. His chest ached. He dropped it where he stood, storming out of the room and then the house.
Eleven
Ingrid was exhausted. It had been a week since she’d written the note, and she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into her work to avoid thinking about more unpleasant things. Two new patients had arrived in that time, and Ingrid spent nearly all of her time grinding herbs, tending to patient hygiene, making notes, and hiding from herself. If attentiveness and care could cure this illness then not one of the current patients would pass away.
She hadn’t seen Helias in five days. Five days and eight hours, really, but she wasn’t counting. She had woken in the middle of the night to someone knocking on her bedroom door, and when she opened it she had completely frozen. He was in his pajamas, shirtless and imposing, towering and achingly beautiful. She’d expected him to kiss her or to rage at her, but instead he had spoken quickly and softly.
“I’m yours. You’re mine. You know that.”
And then he had retreated down the hallway, leaving her heart pounding, and her response died on her lips.
It was better this way, she had to remind herself continually. He would be leaving once things were sorted out, and she couldn’t bear to be left alone in this house again. She had found herself particularly alone lately; she was avoiding Lily as much as possible. Lily seemed to think that Ingrid was being stupid, and Ingrid didn’t need that thrown in her face every time they ran into each other when what she wanted was support. It was easier to do this now, she reassured herself again.
She sighed to herself. She was horny, too, which didn’t help matters. She mentally ran down her list of previous partners, but the thought turned her stomach. She didn’t want sex, she wanted Helias.
She turned back to the patient notebook.
•••••
Lily and John sat together on the couch in the library, chatting and laughing, while Helias was poring over his notes. He appreciated the company; it was an excellent distraction. Lily had returned shortly after she delivered the note with questions about him and what he was. He had been honest, and he was surprised to learn that she hadn’t gotten her information from Ingrid but had guessed from her own research. She returned often and frequently brought John along, and he was happy to indulge her with stories and knowledge.
As he got to know Lily, he felt he understood Ingrid better; he hadn’t really known a human woman before her, and as he learned how carefree and open Lily was, he knew that Ingrid’s guarded nature and skepticism ran deep. He had spent the first two days after she sent the note feeling angry and helpless, but now he had resigned himself to waiting for her. He was hers and she was his. He would wait as long as necessary.
He was considering writing a second set of letters to his brothers. He hadn’t heard back from any of them yet, and all he could do was hope that the letters had found their recipients.
“How’s it going?” Lily called across the room, and Helias turned to face the couple.
“I’ll be fine, how’s Ingrid?”
“Avoiding me,” Lily responded. “She’s afraid I’ll make her see sense. She’s miserable though, I can tell. But I meant your research. How’s that going?”
He rose and stretched. “It’s not. I’m completely stuck.”
“Your brothers will be able to help?”
“If I ever hear back from any of them, then I think that they will, yes.” He sighed. “I need to get out of this room.”
John glanced at the clock. “Dinner,” he murmured, and Lily shot an affectionate look at him. He was a man of few words, Helias mused, and it made him an excellent match for the chatty Lily.
They proceeded to the dining hall together. Helias had a deep ache in his chest that only one person could heal, but as he watched the couple in front of him walk hand in hand, he realized that he didn’t feel lonely for the first time in eight years.
•••••
“Lily,” Ingrid groaned, sprawled across her friend’s bed with her arm thrown dramatically over her eyes. “Why did I fuck him? I ruined everything.”
Lily had forced Ingrid into her room, and Ingrid had been too tired to argue properly.
“Because he’s super hot and crazy about you,” Lily said matter of factly, pinning her hair back and looking in her mirror.
Ingrid moaned sadly at the ceiling.
“I don’t understand though, Ing, you were so into him and now that you had amazing sex with him you aren’t?”
“I am into him, that’s the problem,” Ingrid said, rolling on her front before pushing her face into the pillow in front of her.
“Ohhh,” Lily said knowingly. “I know what this is. Miss casual sex, no strings attached, I-have-no-feelings Ingrid is having feelings.”
“Lily,” she sighed, “I don’t want to be.”
“Why is it such a bad thing?” Lily asked.
“It’s complicated,” Ingrid murmured. “I don’t want to feel anything about him because he’ll be done here soon and I’ll be alone again.”
Lily turned to face her. “Ingrid,” she began gently, “you’ll never be alone like that again. None of us will.”
“I know, I just...he can leave here and go home. You and John can leave here and get married and have a life. I can’t. I’m stuck here and everyone inevitably leaves me.”
“Ing, we’ve talked about this, you can shut everything down whenever you want to.”
Ingrid paused. “You know that I can’t.”
Lily turned to look at her. “Plus,” she said slyly, raising her eyebrows, “I have a feeling that his being a dragon probably complicates things.”
“What?” Ingrid asked, shocked. “How did you know?”
“I asked.”
“You just asked him?” Ingrid was incredulous.
“I did. It was pretty obvious, Ing. And I told you so, by the way.”
“Have you seen him much?” Ingrid asked after a long pause.
Lily grinned. “We’re good friends now. If you weren’t continually skipping meals you’d have seen him laughing with John and me at dinner.”
“How is he?” Ingrid asked, surprised.
“Miserable, but not as miserable as you because he’s not hiding from the world,” Lily responded. “I think maybe he feels used.”
Ingrid’s heart fell. “I’m an ass.”
“Ingrid,” Lily began, “you’re not an ass. You’re practical, and you’re stubborn, and you’re a horrible control freak, but you’re not an ass.”
Ingrid looked at her and sniffed with a small smile, wiping unshed tears from her eyes.
“You’re so fucked up, Ingrid, because you lost everyone. But we all did, and we’re all fucked up in different ways. We just have to keep our own particular brand in mind.”
Ingrid mused over that thought. She kept feeling the awful dread telling her to run far, far away from Helias. After he’d admitted to being a dragon, it had made sense, and she’d hoped that her knowing what he was would stop it. It had been right there that morning, though, and worse than it had ever been. It was all she had been able to do to get out of the room without reeling or vomiting.
But maybe it had nothing to do with Helias being near, aside from the fact that she couldn’t control her feelings around him. Maybe what she feared wasn’t him, dragon or not; what she feared was her attachment to him.
He had been sweet and gentle and wonderful; it was almost domestic. No wonder she had fled. Guilt flooded through her. He clearly cared for her, and she had bolted every time he had tried to express it.
“How do you always know what I need to hear?” Ingrid asked, crossing the room to where her friend was seated in front of the mirror, resting her chin on Lily’s shoulder.
“It’s a gift,” Lily smirked at her. “You should talk to him.”
Ingrid nodded absently and looked at them both in the mirror. Lily was lovely; full cheeks and bright eyes and glowing skin. Ingrid looked at her own pallid complexion, her sunken gaze, the tightness of her skin stretched over her face. She looked away from herself and kissed her beautiful friend on the cheek. “You’re right,” she agreed, and strode out of the room, determined.
Twelve
Ingrid awoke to her name. She felt her neck aching and wondered why, before she opened her eyes and realized that she had fallen asleep in the library.
Helias stood in front of her; tall, imposing, arms crossed.
She was frightened. She wanted to ask for his forgiveness, but she certainly didn’t deserve it. She had run from him and completely avoided him for a week, and all that after begging him to fuck her.
She stared at him for a moment, and he stared back, his expression unchanging.
And then, suddenly, she was crying.
Her frustration and grief and anxiety and anger were pouring out of her in great crashing waves of sobs and hiccups. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried in front of anyone, but then she remembered her mother holding her and stroking her hair while she cried when she was very small, and she sobbed harder for her mother who she desperately needed, and because Helias was now kneeling in front of her and wrapping his arms around her. She cried because she didn’t deserve his forgiveness or his kindness, and then she cried harder because she did deserve forgiveness and kindness and love.
She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t handle the feelings pouring out of her, so she clung to him and tried to focus on his slowly rising and falling chest.
Helias was murmuring sweet words about forgiveness against her hair, and she wasn’t sure why until she realized she’d been hiccuping “I’m sorry,” at him over and over for the last five minutes. She quieted slowly, still clinging to him, still focusing on his sl
ow and steady breathing.
Eventually she slumped against his shoulder, drained and exhausted. “You’re too good,” she whispered against his neck, and he shook his head and silently lifted her as he stood.
“Bed?” he questioned, and she nodded her agreement. He carried her up to her room and deposited her on her bed gently before tucking her under the covers.
“Stay,” she mumbled quietly, her heavy eyes pleading.
“Of course,” he whispered. He slipped in next to her and wound his arms around her. The last thing she was aware of was contentment draping over her and a warm sensation blossoming in her chest.
•••••
Helias held Ingrid to him as she slept, terrified of her running again when she woke. Sleep would not come for him, so he spent the night memorizing her. He lifted her hair from her neck to inhale her intoxicating scent once, then again. He took it all in: the weight of her head on his arm, the way her soft hair tickled his jaw, the soft and slow rise of her chest against him; her delectable pink lips, her dark lashes sweeping her cheeks, her strong chin that fit her so well. He dearly wished this would not be the last time he would hold her, but he wanted to be prepared.
She was precious to him. He wanted to keep her safe, and while he was more than capable of protecting her from external forces, he was helpless against her inner battles. Seeing her break down so violently had frightened him, but he was almost glad for it. She struggled to express emotions, but she had certainly poured them out tonight. As troubling as it had been to see, maybe it was a strange kind of progress.
He could have spent an eternity embracing her, listening to her even breathing and soft sighs, but the night passed more quickly than he wished it to. When the bedroom was awash in the soft light of dawn, she began to stretch, blinking a few times before her eyes focused. There he was, frozen, staring into those blue depths. He waited for her to pull away from him, or to cry, or to ask him to leave; instead, she lifted his hand with hers and placed a soft kiss on his palm. His heart felt like bursting, and he squeezed her gently.
