It’s three steps forward, one step back. We were able to get confirmation that Rayne may still be alive and they’re moving her around. Also, she’s not the first mythical shifter they’ve grabbed.

I’m not even sure who they are. Bronaz says they’re not sure either, only that someone out there is responsible and he feels they’re close to figuring it out.

From where I’m sitting, I am not as confident. But then I haven’t been dealing with this as long as Bronaz has.

We all climb off the bus and watch as Goldie heads off home.

Once Bronaz is confident she’s safe, he turns to me. “Thanks for coming tonight. Once again, you pull through for us.”

“I’m not sure what I did. I’m glad I could be of help though.” I want to bring up the text message, ask if he is ready to talk. I’m waffling now about whether I want to try to push it right at the moment.

Something is bothering Bronaz. He’s more subdued and introspective than usual. I slide my hand down his arm in comfort. He’s struggling; that much I can see. This time he’s not shutting me out.

He’s withdrawing but in a different way. He’s not recoiling from me specifically.

“Hey,” I say gently, ducking to look up into his face. “You’re awfully quiet right now. Need to get home?”

“Yeah.”

So… maybe we aren’t talking tonight. Part of me—mostly my dragon—gets stubborn and demands that I talk with Bronaz right now. The other part remembers what Austin said to me earlier and how I need to give Bronaz the room to work through his headspace.

I’m disappointed but I know to give Bronaz the space. When he’s ready to talk, he will contact me. I made the overture, the ball’s in his court.

“I really don’t want to be alone, right now,” he says.

My eyebrows lift in surprise. “Then come over. I actually went to the grocery store. I’ll fix us something that isn’t fast food.”

He smiles at me and I think my heart may burst from happiness. It’s a genuine smile. It feels a little sad but it’s genuine and he’s not pulling away. This is a landmark achievement for him. Good gods, don’t let me screw this up. “I’ll call a car. I’m not feeling the bus right now.”

By the time we get to my place, I have a dinner planned out in my head, which is quite the feat for me. I’m not a spontaneous person by nature. It probably has to do with the fact that my job is fraught with spontaneity. I deal with it on a daily basis with helping with births and babies, the rest of my life doesn’t follow suit.

I lock up the front door and toss my keys on the coffee table. Bronaz just gets comfortable on the couch. “Oh no, big guy,” I say with a motion for him to follow me to the kitchen. “I’m putting you to work tonight.”

“I’m not much of a cook.” Bronaz gets as far as the kitchen door before stopping. “I’m not sure how much good I’ll be.”

“Salads are hard to screw up. Everything’s in the fridge, second shelf. Chop it up and toss it in a bowl.”

While Bronaz focuses on that, I pull some soup I made last week out of the freezer. While that is thawing in the microwave, I dig around for the butter and garlic to season up the half a loaf of french bread I have left over.

Bronaz dumps all the chopped salad greens in a big bowl and sets it on the table. “Too bad we killed the wine last time. Where are the bowls again?”

I point to the cabinet. “The spoons are in the drawer by your hip. And yeah, the beer, too. We’re stuck with water and orange juice.”

“I think the juice is out. Save it for breakfast.”

Should I get my hopes up with that comment? It’s hard not to. I double down my focus on watching the soup in the microwave. “Hand me my oven mitts. They’re in the drawer to the right of the dishwasher.”

With care, I manage to work the hot bowl to the front of the microwave. It’s too hot to handle with my bare hands.

A dragon head oven mitt appears over my shoulder, with a hand stuck in it. “Hi, Kuras,” a falsetto voice says as the mouth opens. “You’re thinking awfully hard about something.”

The playfulness catches me off guard and I bark out a laugh. “I’ve had a long day. Now my brain is full.”

“Then you need to watch a movie or something to empty your brain,” the dragon oven mitt advises.

“It depends if I have company. Will you keep me company, Mr. Dragon Mitt?”

“Hmmm,” the dragon oven mitt ponders the question. “I think I know someone who might be willing.”

“Ah, well, tell this someone they need to get the bowl out of the microwave first so we can have dinner.” I step back and Bronaz puts on the second mitt to get the bowl.

Digging out the ladle, I spoon out our bowls and set them on the table to cool.

Bronaz wiggles one of the mitts to make the dragon ears flop around. “These are cute.”

“From my mom. House warming gift when I moved out.”

He holds one out right in my face. I stare at it, then him. Bronaz waits patiently. Uncertain, I lean forward slowly to place a kiss on its nose.

Bronaz drops his hand and steps into my personal space with the same patient posture.

My heart is beating heavily in my chest. The man knows how to reduce me to mush with a look. I smile up at him shyly and he returns it.

He’s still not saying anything so I lift up on my toes to kiss him just as softly on his mouth.

When I drop to flat feet again, I’m dizzy. His cologne is intoxicating, his body warmth is comforting and I want to pull his arms so they wrap around me so I can press my ear to his chest to hear his heartbeat lull me into a sense of contentment.

“I can get used to that,” he says quietly. His thumb brushes along my cheekbone before he leans in for the next kiss. His tongue gently glides along the seam of my lips until I open for him.

When we break, his eyes are wide and dark. “We should eat.”

“Yeah,” I say with a creaky voice.

I wobble when he pulls away, as if his presence has dragged me off balance.

My breath is his. My body longs to be his. My heart belongs to him.

We manage to get through dinner but the dishes are left abandoned in the kitchen. Bronaz impatiently pulls at me, his hands finding their way beneath my shirt to push off my body. I stumble with him as we clumsily make our way into the living room. The bedroom is too far away and I don’t want to take the time. We collapse on the sofa, Bronaz catching himself on his hands so I don’t bear the brunt of our fall, and bounce as he splays on top of me.

His erection presses against my stomach, hard and insistent. Mine matches his with equal fervor. Rocking my hips allows me the friction against his thigh to find the maddening relief that feels too far away. There are too many clothes still between us and I’m frustrated that I didn’t get his shirt off before we stretched out. “It’s in the way,” I whine.

He catches my hands and pulls them over my head. “Yeah. And it’s going to stay there, too.”

I arch beneath him. “This is really unfair.”

“It’s totally fair. You cooked dinner, I intend to handle the bill.”

He slides down my body, his tongue painting a winding path from my left pec. The wet line curls and tumbles across my chest and down over my abdomen. My breath hitches when he unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down over my hips. He frees my cock from the confines of my underwear, a relief I express with a soft sigh.

“What have we here?” he purrs softly. His hand wraps around my shaft with perfect pressure as he drags his palm up to the crown.

The sensation vibrates from the soles of my feet to the small of my back. I hiss at the friction. “If you’re going to tease, I won’t share dessert.”

“What’s for dessert?”

“Cherry jello.”

“Mmmm, I’ll pass. I think what I have here is what I’m more hungry for.”

I yelp when his mouth slides over me, taking me down in one slick motion. My head bumps at the back of his throat, causing stars to burst in my vision. “Oh—”

Thank the gods he doesn’t tease me until I’m crazy. His mouth moves smoothly over my dick with just the right amount of pressure that has me moaning his name. It’s quiet in the living room, the only sounds my soft pleas for him to not keep teasing me and the slick sounds as he sucks me until I can’t hold it back any more.

With a soft groan, I unload in his mouth. He takes it, riding with my bucking hips until I’m spent and my muscles are very relaxed. I’m pliable in his hands.

It takes some effort on my part but I manage to roll with him on the sofa so he’s on his back and I’m splayed out over the top of him, limp and sated. His erection is poking my hip. “Give me a few minutes to scoop my brains back in my head and I’ll handle that.”

“I’m good.”

“Yes you are but it’s still there and poking me. It needs attention.”

“It’ll wait. I’m fine.”

I’m not satisfied with that and rally the energy to start pushing at his shirt again.

Bronaz laughs when I find a ticklish spot.

“That was an accident.” Suddenly, I am struck with feeling a little mischievous.

He grasps my wrists before I can do it again. “Sure it was. So let’s leave it at one accident.”

“So you are ticklish?” I ask impishly.

“Violently so. I don’t want to accidentally break your nose.”

“That’s no fun.”

“You can always go get the dragon oven mitt.”

The mood has shifted a little. It’s a good shift, to be honest. I don’t sense Bronaz trying to close me out. Not that he’s said anything, but I get the feeling we’re approaching a good time to talk.

I wiggle up his body so I can rest my elbow at his shoulder, resting my head in my hand. “Something tells me the dragon oven mitt is going to find a new home.”

“Maybe. Or you can get me one for my birthday or something.”

“That’s going to be hard to explain why you own one if you don’t cook.”

“I can say they belong to you.”

“Uh huh.”

His arms drape comfortably over my back. “I know you said you wanted to talk. Before we do, though, there’s something I need to tell you. I think it’ll put everything in perspective.”

I’ve wanted this from the beginning. Now that I’m faced with it, my doubts start to run wild. Did I force this before he was ready? Is he going to shut down on me again after he says anything?

I push my reservations aside.

He’s ready to talk.

I need to be ready to listen.