GWEN

I’m not sure why Vaan keeps petting me like a dog. It started after he wrapped my arms, and now he just won’t stop.

I put old beach towels on the floor to mop up blood. Vaan moves to my side, pets my head, pushing my curls down, and then studies my face. Assists me in the bathroom? Pets my head. Helps me drink a bottle of water found at the back of one of the shelves? Pets my head. It’s like he’s worried I’m going to come apart if he doesn’t stroke my hair for me.

Funny thing is, I don’t know if he’s entirely wrong in that I need comfort.

It’s my fault I’ve been weeping so darn much, but my arms hurt like the dickens. For both to be swollen at the same time is incredibly frustrating, but there’s not much to be done about it. Wrapping them in the bandages helped. The aspirin we found in the pharmacy eased some of the pain. It probably would have helped even more to find a bottle of liquor somewhere, but I know that’s too much to hope for. Still, with the bandages and aspirin, the pain’s down to a dull throb instead of a searing ache, and I focus on other things. Like any good scavenger, I go through the half-destroyed store aisle by aisle with Vaan at my side, looking for things I can repurpose to make a home, however temporary it might be. I can’t go anywhere or do anything with my arms useless, and Vaan seems to want to stick to my side.

So we’ll be here for the next few days. Or weeks. Or however long it takes for my arms to heal up.

I hope it’s days. I don’t think I’ll be able to stand a big, golden man pulling down my pants for me for longer than that. It’s hard enough to swallow right now, not just because it’s intimate and embarrassing, but because Vaan is patient and impartial.

I mean, how am I supposed to handle that? Sure, it’s an awkward, unsexy moment, but he has his hands on my naked hips. He pulls my panties up and down for me. He’s probably seen my bush more times than I have in the last day.

And yet, nothing. No comments, no sexy side-glances, nada. This coming from a man who gets an erection from my morning breath or petting my hair.

I frown to myself at the thought. Is it possible that Vaan doesn’t want me anymore? That he’s done with the idea of taking me as his mate and wants someone else? I can leave and return to Fort Shreveport?

Why does that fill me with less excitement than it should?

“Gwen,” Vaan says, and then that big, clawed hand pets my head again. Not happy little thumps, but big, palm-strokes over my hair as if he’s trying to smooth it off of my scalp.

It’d be funny if it wasn’t so bizarre.

It’s my sprained wrists, I think. Nothing to do with the dragon…or so I tell myself over and over as I direct Vaan to make a bed. A pile of old backpacks makes for pillows and beach towels from an endcap act as bedding. I’m hungry, but the store’s been picked clean of everything but nicotine gum, so I ignore my stomach’s growling and get on the floor as awkwardly and slowly as I can, my throbbing arms pressed close to my chest so nothing hits them.

As I lie down, I stare up at the ceiling. It’s early yet, the sun not quite down, but I’m exhausted. I’m ready for today to be over. Back at the fort, I always wanted to sneak away for a nap or go to bed early. Sleeping’s like a great big reset button. If the day’s sucking, go to sleep and come back hours later and see if it’s improving. Most of the time it didn’t work, but at least you got a nap in. Of course, thinking about the fort makes me wonder about Dee. Is she mad at me for running off? Struggling and scared? Or is she too angry at me for any of that? Has Amy come back with Rast, or are they still back at Fort Dallas? Has Andi confronted Liam about being a dragon?

Then there’s the smaller, daily minutiae that hounds my thoughts. Is someone feeding my birds? Watering the tomato plants properly? Has another dragon moved into the territory now that Vaan’s gone, or is it peaceful?

There’s so many things I worry about that I can feel myself growing more anxious by the moment. They need me there, and here I am, farting around with a dragon-man in an old pharmacy, my head pillowed on a backpack.

I should try to get back to them. They’ve always struggled without me at the helm. Even if I made bad decisions, at least someone was in charge. I chew on my lip, worried. What if—

A big, golden body drops down right next to me. Vaan, naturally. He stretches out at my side and then rolls over to face me. One big hand moves to my hair and he strokes it hard, peering at my face. He looks concerned, and I try to give him a smile to let him know I’m all right. “It’s okay, Vaan. I’m just pooped.” I close my eyes to try and give him the hint that I want to be left alone to sleep.

After a few moments of this, though, I come to the realization that it’s going to be mighty hard to sleep when a dragon-man’s blatant erection is pressing into my hip. It’s also hard to sleep when I realize how pleased the return of his “wood” makes me. I know I shouldn’t give a shit, but I’m oddly happy about that. Even if it wasn’t attention I originally wanted, it’s flattering to know that Vaan wants me.

Has anyone really wanted me for me, ever? I’ve always been Daniela’s older sister—attractive enough, but compared to Daniela’s sweet-faced beauty, a mere shadow in her presence. I’m the responsible one, not the pretty one. Then the Rift came and overnight, the dynamics between people changed. It became a survival of the fittest situation, and the men in Fort Tulsa made it clear that they weren’t interested in women as equals, but as property. Some women were good with that. Those of us who weren’t eventually left. Trust in men—and my faith in humanity overall—has been badly shaken. I’ve thrown everything I am into running the fort. There’s been time only to be the mayor, not just Gwen.

But with the attention Vaan pays me, I feel…like the Gwen I used to be before the apocalypse beat all the hope out of me.

Ironic considering that he’s a dragon and the problem, not the solution. Around him, though, I feel like a normal person. I don’t have to be the mayor, or strong, or fearless. I don’t have to decide the fate of anyone’s life and weigh the consequences. I don’t have to worry about empty bellies because my belly’s the only one to worry about. Vaan can feed himself.

If I’m wounded…someone’s taking care of me.

“You think that’s it?” I whisper, opening my eyes to glance over at him. “I’ve got a hurt/comfort fetish?”

He growls low, but it doesn’t sound angry, just…kind of like a response. Like purring, almost.

Affection. Such a simple way to win a girl. If Vaan had shown up with roses instead of with fangs, I’d probably have been all over him. It’s not that I hate him. I hate the helpless feeling of being dragged away from everything I know and love when they might need me.

“I wish I could talk to you. I’d love to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Vaan leans in, his nose rubbing against my cheek. His claws lightly move through my hair, spreading it out around my face, and for a moment, I forget about my problems. I snuggle a little closer to him, enjoying the affection. For a moment, I’m not a captive or a human with a dragon. I’m a girl being cuddled by a hot guy and it’s far too easy to sink into the bliss of the moment. He caresses me lightly and I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation. He skims his fingertips along my jaw, over my brow, dancing across the shell of an ear. It’s just simple, pleasurable caresses. His touches never go too far, never beyond comfortable and enjoyable to pushy. He’s content to touch me and nothing more. It’s…nice. So very nice.

It’s a welcome change from the lecherous pawings of other men back at Fort Tulsa. No one would dare touch me in Fort Shreveport…not even if I wanted them to. But here, I’m just Gwen, and he’s just Vaan, a guy who seems to be as desperate for affection as I am.

I realize this a moment later—Vaan’s touching me and he wants to be touched, too. My hands are two sprained useless messes right now, but there are other ways to touch and be giving.

I look over at him, the oddly handsome and yet utterly alien-looking dragon-man whose face is so close to mine that we’re practically sharing breath. His eyes have changed to that smooth, deep gold that’s so intense it’s almost amber, almost as bronze as his skin. Around him, I don’t feel unsafe or scared. I wasn’t when he flew and dumped me on a roof. I wasn’t afraid when I had a gun put to my head, or he shifted to dragon form and ate my attacker. No matter what happens, I’m learning that I’m safe with Vaan, and I feel more protected than I have…well, ever since the Rift itself.

So I lean forward and nudge his nose with mine. “Thank you for saving me today. I know you can’t understand me, but I feel like I should say thank you all the same.”

He gives me another rumbling almost-purr of affection and brushes his nose against mine again. Our mouths are so close and he’s so protective and I feel so content right now that I close the gap between us and lightly brush my lips against his.

Vaan pulls back as if stung, a look of utter shock on his face. His eyes are wide, the color whirling in them again. “Gwen?”

“That’s me,” I whisper, and force a smile to my face. “I guess your people don’t kiss, huh? That’s a shame.”

He puts his claws to his lips, touching them. There’s a look of intense concentration on his face, as if he’s trying to figure out if he liked it or not. Kinda looks like “not” from where I’m standing, but I guess pushing mouths together can be weird if you’ve never experienced it before.

“Sorry,” I tell him softly. “I won’t do it again.”

Vaan studies me intently for a long moment and then leans in and rubs the lower half of his face against mine. Cheek, mouth, all of it in a slow swipe. He pushes his lips against mine and then pulls back, watching me.

“Are you trying to kiss me back?”

He cups my chin, one thumb-claw moving over my lower lip. He watches me, and I suspect he’s trying to see if I like his touch or if I’m going to start crying again.

I give him my most encouraging smile, hoping it looks a little sexy. “You can touch me. We can even kiss again if you want.” When he simply cocks his head, trying to understand me, I decide to take things one step further. I flick my tongue against that thumb-claw and give him my best come-hither look.

His eyes immediately flare that deep, intense gold. A low groan erupts from his throat. “Gwen.” My name on his lips is ragged, intense.

That one simple syllable makes heat pool in my belly.