by Viola Grace
Her body was still pulsing and shaking as she let her legs slide in short jerks back down so that she was no longer depending on the pressure of his body for support.
“I gather that you like the look of me in your scales?”
He was fighting to regain his breath, his chest was still heaving like a bellows. “That would be a safe assumption. Would you care to adjourn to the house, so we can get some rest?”
She was a little weak in the knees and it had been one helluva day, “Sounds like a plan. Let’s go.”
They staggered arm in arm back to the house, meandered up the stairs and then flopped into the bed with little ceremony.
It had—indeed—been one helluva day.
* * * *
The insistent chirp of her cell phone woke her the next morning. She retrieved it from the pack that Rikard had brought her and almost jumped out of her skin at the message.
She jumped up and grabbed her sleeping dragon by the shoulder. “Rikard. Do you want me to travel around without you?” She was frantically texting with her free hand, cursing and using both as she made a mistake. A few precious moments were spent thus, and then she tossed her phone into her pack and she began to look around for the wardrobe he had stocked for her.
“No, we just mated. We are supposed to take a break and spend a week or more together.”
“Great. Grab some stuff and come with me. We are going on a road trip.” She was loading her pack with the new clothing provided by her mate.
He didn’t get up easily. “Where are you going?” She opened one of his drawers and started flinging clothing at him.
“You remember all those new spells that I have?”
“Yes.”
“That they seem designed for modern times?”
“Yes.”
“And that I am the only one peddling them?”
He was moving now, tugging on some shorts, then moving on to slacks. “Yes.”
“One of my friends, Jinx, is an Archive. Her family just handed her over to a werewolf pack and her grandfather has objected. If something isn’t done soon, they might just tear her limb from limb. Or worse, hand her over to the Magus or Warlock Councils.”
She faced him, wearing jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt. Her necklace of scales lying flat against her skin and proudly displayed. “She would rather die than be locked up like that. So I am going there to meddle in matters that are technically none of my business.”
He shook his head wearily. “You just said it was none of your business.”
George looked at him for a long moment. “I know that. But she is a friend. It is my business to meddle. Are you coming?”
“Why don’t we fly?”
“Because I don’t want to freak out the wolves with some dragons in the sky. They tend to think we are going to eat them, and we don’t want that kind of attention. We will simply be concerned friends staying at the guesthouse.” She flipped her pack over her shoulder and looked at his half-hearted efforts impatiently. “Let’s go, lizard butt.”
“You will pay for that.”
“Yeah, but you will have to get your butt downstairs to catch me, so it’s win-win.” She was out of the door and down the stairs before he could comment or follow up.
She laughed and led her mate on a journey into the heart of werewolf territory. He enacted his revenge for the lizard butt comment several times on the trip, and she had to admit that he was very creative while using the hood of a car for leverage.
She could only hope that the guy that Jinx got was half as creative, and that Jinx was flexible enough to manage it.
About the Author
Viola Grace (aka Zenina Masters) is a Canadian sci-fi/paranormal romance writer with ambitions to keep writing for the rest of her life. She specializes in short stories because the thrill of discovery, of all those firsts, is what keeps her writing.
An artist who enjoys a story that catches you up, whirls you around and sets you down with a smile on your face is all she endeavours to be. She prefers to leave the drama to those who are better suited to it, she always goes for the cheap laugh.
