Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I can feel the amusement in his thoughts. Mate in battle-form? No. I am sure there are some that have, but the scales prevent you from feeling your partner underneath you. I would rather feel your soft skin under mine, my Emma.
I don’t know why, but that makes me feel a little better somehow. Like he’s more human because he hasn’t done the dirty, dragon-style.
I remember no one before you, Zohr tells me.
I’m flattered again, and then I remember the female that flashed through his fever-dreams. “Even her?”
I do not remember her.
Interesting. I zip my bag and hitch it over my shoulder, then give the apartment one last scan to make sure I didn’t forget anything. I slide my knife into my belt and head out to the street, where Zohr is waiting.
He opens one eye as I approach and his tail flicks idly against the concrete, reminding me of a cat. A really, really big cat. Ready to go?
“Let’s do this,” I agree.
Zohr gets to his feet, stretches by placing his forelegs forward and then his hindquarters into the air. His wings half flutter, and they look a little crumpled, which makes me feel guilty. Not for long, I vow. I’m going to help him fix them. I refuse to accept any other outcome.
The dragon moves a step toward me and then extends one clawed foreleg in my direction. Come. I will carry you.
I shudder. “Can we not? I hate having my feet dangle.” That and I don’t like being caged in by claws when I don’t know how his mood’s going to turn at any moment.
You do not trust me? He lowers his head, and I see a hint of black whirling in his eyes.
“Just humor me. You know I like control.”
Very well. I will let you choose how you wish to ride…if you do something for me.
“What’s that?”
I wish to kiss.
I blink. “Like…right now?”
He rumbles, and I can feel his amusement. No, right now we will travel. Later, when I return to my two-legged form. You wanted kisses. I wish to give them.
I can feel myself blushing. “Oh. Of course. I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” Though now I’m visualizing trying to kiss that honking big dragon head. It’d be like smooching the front of an airplane.
Zohr lowers his big head to me, all golden scales and spikes. One plate-sized eye sizes me up. You wish to try?
“Nope! I’m good. I’ll wait for later,” I babble quickly. I bound forward, moving to his side, and put my hand on his scales. “So show me where I need to mount.” Oh lordy. Just saying the word “mount” makes me think of that first night when I slung my leg over him and “claimed” him.
He noses me, and I feel his hot breath whuff against my hair. Now I am thinking of such things, as well. Perhaps we should delay traveling…
“Nope,” I say quickly.
Shame. You smell good. He noses me again and then slides one foreleg forward along the concrete until his shoulder is lowered to a reasonable height. You can try riding on my back, but I cannot guarantee it will be comfortable. We have no saddle.
“Do you normally use a saddle?” I look at him in surprise.
When I must carry someone, yes. His thoughts are full of distaste.
“Who do you carry?”
He pauses, and his thoughts go distant. I…am not entirely sure.
“Salorians?”
Perhaps. His eyes go dark and his thoughts seem to take an unhappy turn. The memories I do have are not so good.
I pat his shoulder. “Just focus on me then.”
You are my favorite thing. I do so with pleasure.
I eye his shoulder, still too tall for me to easily climb, and sigh to myself. “Just don’t laugh at me, because I’m sure not gonna be graceful.”
I manage to make it onto his back and stay seated on his bony shoulders for most of the day. I tell myself it’s like riding an uncomfortable bicycle, because who hasn’t done that? There’s not much to hold on to, but Zohr realizes this and chooses his steps carefully, his movements more rolling and less jarring as the day goes on. We prowl through the streets of Old Dallas’s suburbs, looking for shopping areas. I find an old post office and dig through some of the packages. All the return addresses are a place called “The Colony,” so that must be where we’re at. We have a string of bad luck, shopping-wise, though. There’s not a lot that hasn’t been super picked through, which tells me that we’re going to need to head in another direction. I decide that we should head along the highway, following it. Stuff might be even more picked through the farther into the city we go, but there will also be more places to choose from.