Dragon Bound (Elder Races #1)(49)

“What’s the matter?” she asked again. She laid a bright ivory hand against his cheek. “What happened?”

“I put you down,” he said. His blade-honed face was drawn. “I went to go wash at the stream. I wasn’t gone long . . . I was just twenty feet away.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Whatever happened, it’s okay now.”

He was so upset, unlike anything she had seen from him. To date he had been calm, arrogant, infuriating, amused, angry, cautious, downright imperious. But this was like how he had been when she found him chained in the cell, only worse. It was hard to see such an indomitable male so shaken. She stroked his face.

He sank his fists into her hair as if to trap her more completely. “I turned around,” he gritted, “and I could see the fire through your body. You were transparent, Pia, and you were fading.”

“That’s impossible,” she said.

Or was it? Her mind raced back to her dream. If she had started to fade—could her mother have visited her in truth? Her lips pulled into a bittersweet smile.

“No smiling. This isn’t something to f**king smile about,” he snarled at her, his fists tightening. “You were almost gone. My hands passed right through you. If I hadn’t started calling you back, you would have disappeared for good.”

“Maybe, I guess, but I don’t think so,” she said in an absent tone, letting her fingers slide through his hair. She loved the inky black strands of silk. There wasn’t a kink or hint of curl in it. “I don’t think I could have gone where I tried to go. She said it wasn’t my place.”

“What are you talking about?” His eyes narrowed, but the tension in his body dialed down a notch.

“I dreamed about my mother.” Her gaze went unfocused and she said, “And I think it actually was her. When she left I tried to follow her.”

“You are never to do that again,” he said between his teeth. “Do you understand?”

“Dragos,” she said, speaking with care because he was still so upset. “You’ve got to stop giving me orders.”

No matter how gently she said it, it was still like a spark to dry tinder.

“Fuck you,” he snapped. He thrust his face down to hers, eyes flaring to lava and features hardening. “You’re mine. And you. Can’t. Leave.”

“Whoa, there. I don’t know what to say to you. You’re like some stalker guy on steroids.” She threw back her hands and rolled her eyes. “You are aware, aren’t you, that you can’t have slaves any longer. You know, abolition. Big war. Happened a hundred and forty, forty-five years ago.”

“Human history, human terms,” he snarled. “They mean nothing to me.”

She had already known she shouldn’t attribute human motives or emotions to him. Here was the reminder. The dragon was very close to the surface. The big body crouching over her was taut with menace. Every legend she had ever heard of a dragon’s possessive, territorial nature came to mind.

Damn, it was enough to make her swallow hard but not, she realized, in fear. Muscle by muscle she relaxed. “Okay then, big guy,” she said, soft and easy. “You tell me what you mean.”

“I don’t know.” That fierce, proud face was puzzled. “All I know is you’re mine to keep and protect. You can’t fade away, and you can’t die. I won’t let you.”

She thought it was not the time to point out that she was going to die at some point. She had too much human in her.

“So, I’m yours for how long?” she asked, curious now that she decided to explore this path. “Until you get tired of me, or you get bored again?”

“I don’t know,” he said again. “I haven’t figured this out yet.”

A sudden rush of affection surprised her. He wasn’t faking his perplexity. He wasn’t putting on an act. “That makes two of us,” she said. She thought of the Elven wayfarer bread, the hairbrush and the soap, and his thoughtfulness surprised her all over again. She reached up to run a finger down his throat. “So, for the sake of argument, if I’m yours as you said, to keep and protect, that seems to me like you would want me to—be all right. To thrive?”

“Of course,” he said. He looked down at her hand as she drew circles on his chest, and the menace he exuded turned darker, smokier.

“Dragos,” she murmured, “I don’t thrive when someone barks orders at me all the time.”

She peeked at him to see how he reacted to her logic. He was frowning. “It’s how I talk to people,” he said.

“It’s how you talk to your employees and servants, you mean?” she replied.

His frown deepened. She bit her lips to keep back a smile. How could she be so damn charmed by such a primitive thug? She had to establish a different footing with him or be mowed under by the sheer force of his personality.

“See, here’s the thing.” She kept her voice gentle while she started to rub his chest in soothing circles. “Someone barking orders at me makes me feel trapped and stifled. I understand you’ve gotten into a habit, but maybe,” she suggested, “you could try not ordering me around sometimes. You know, just until you get bored and let me go.”

He had grown heavy-lidded as she stroked him, but at that his narrowed gaze snapped up to her face. She smiled at him, nonthreatening and relaxed. “What if I don’t get bored?” he said. “What if I don’t let you go?”