Cheryl woke in a giant bed piled with silky blankets.

She was naked.

And alone.

In Mal’s bed.

She buried her nose in the sheets and took a long, deep breath. It smelled like him. The way the sheets tangled around her, cupping and caressing her skin in their protective embrace, felt like the way she’d been loved by him. Fiercely, aggressively, completely.

Today was the best day. After last night, of course.

He had blown away all of her doubts. In this bed, she had existed only to discover the limits of her passion and the depths of her capacity to love. Not just love him, but also to love herself.

For the first time in her life, she was good enough just as she was. Not too fat, too awkward, too ugly. No, Mal made her feel beautiful, desired, and powerful. Like she was someone amazing. That was how he made her feel.

For that, and for so much more, she loved him.

Mal.

And they were engaged!

She dropped her head into the impression where his body had been. It felt cool and empty. He’d been up for some time. She was sleeping the day away.

Cheryl rose and stretched… and collapsed. Ouch, ouch, ouch! Everything hurt. Jeez!

She dragged herself out of bed. Her thighs trembled like she’d been squeezing weights and she stumbled across the warm stone floor to the master bathroom. She was sore in weird places and stung too.

In the wall-spanning mirror of the luminous bathroom, she caught sight of herself.

Oh, god.

Her eyes sank into black pits of exhaustion. Her hair hung like limp snakes from her skull. And that pasty, white fat was not at all beautiful.

Also, her mouth felt dry like she’d been licking the sheets all night. She found a cup—well, a crystal goblet—filled it with tap water, and gargled. Then, she set about trying to clean herself up.

Despite all of her pains, the awareness kept flashing into her. She was changed. She was engaged. And she was no longer a virgin.

Although she’d never had plans about her virginity, it had worried her to graduate from college with it still intact. If she didn’t meet someone in her outgoing student days, what were the odds she’d meet someone once she was chained to a desk in the isolated tower of some advertising company? Especially if she was still unable to make eye contact or hold a normal conversation. So, thank goodness, at least this was done.

She had expected it to hurt. But any pain disappeared in the amazing revelation of two intense, soul-shattering, life-revolutionizing orgasms.

So that’s what they were supposed to feel like.

The perfect temperature rain shower found another stinging bit down there. Cheryl sucked in a breath. Funny it hurt this morning, but not last night.

She knew when it had happened. It was startling and fulfilling. Experiencing the world through cellophane and then having a clear, intense view of real life.

She’d taken a few deep breaths. Getting used to the feeling of his cock inside her. All the way in.

He would always be a part of her now. Her first lover. For always.

Thank you.

She hugged herself. Thanks to herself for being willing to try with him, and thanks to Mal for creating such an intense reality it blew all her fantasies away.

He’d looked down at her last night with star-struck wonderment. His green eyes flashed, intent on her. She was grateful now he’d insisted on them both being naked. He saw her. He really saw her. And that possessive desire in his eyes meant he was certain of what he wanted.

You are Cheryl. He kept saying that. And then he started moving and the delicious tingling feeling came back and swept her away.

Mal had been… he’d been amazing. So himself. Fierce, fearless, demanding. Even though it was his first time too, he moved as though he knew everything about her. He had made her feel sparkles inside.

Touching herself alone at night was like nice, tinny stereo, and he had introduced her to surround sound with a full, New York level orchestra. Sure, she could go back to stereo, but now she wanted to hear the maestro live.

Speaking of Mal, where was he?

Cheryl finished her relaxing shower, dried herself in the fluffy towels, and went looking for him.

He was not working at his palatial mahogany desk. He was not pacing in front of the roaring fireplaces while shouting into a phone. He was not at the rustic dining benches, in the empty stone hall, on the frozen exterior landing pad where they’d arrived, or in any of the barren rooms.

Well…

She picked up the phone. Did this have long distance? She called the corporation. Mal was unavailable so Jeanine transferred her to Jasper.

“Hello, Cheryl.”

“Hi.” The room heated, even though her hair was still dripping on her bare shoulders with the towel wrapped around her. Cue her social awkwardness.

It wasn’t fair. She was distanced by the phone, and she ought to be used to talking to Jasper since he was her official boss and they talked every day.

“Um, is Mal there?”

“Yes.”

Mal had abandoned her.

She was glad he wasn’t lying in a gully somewhere, a victim of a freak snow accident. But he’d left her.

Maybe he wanted her to sleep. Maybe he was worried she didn’t get enough rest. Maybe this was kindly meant, not that he forgot her. Or didn’t care.

Funny how yesterday any touch was a precious memory, and today she could call up the corporation and get upset that Mal hadn’t answered on the first ring himself.

She wanted too much. She wasn’t grateful for the memories she’d already gotten.

“Are you coming to work today?” Jasper asked.

“I don’t know.” She rubbed her wet hair. It was a nervous gesture. “Do you know if Mal’s coming back home? Like, for lunch, or something?”

It was getting close to lunch time. An early lunch time. He could make it easily. Flying only took him five minutes.

And she was greedy. She wanted more. A lot more.

“I don’t know,” Jasper said.

No, Mal wouldn’t share his plans. “Is he busy?”

“Yes, very.”

Of course he was. She hated to interrupt, but she also couldn’t stand not knowing when he would appear. “Can you ask him to call me when he gets a few minutes free?”

“Sure.”

Well, okay. That was that.

She made her goodbyes and stared out the gorgeous windows at the isolated snowscape. Today the sky was clear and blue. Wind gusts kicked little flurries from the many feet of snow crushed against the windows. Ice chips melted and fell on the sharp incline, rolled into giant snowballs, and flew off the edge of the cliff to disappear into an icy blue abyss.

She went back into the bedroom and put on her sweaty old clothes. Everything except her underwear, which she stuffed in her pocket. It felt weird to go commando in jeans, but what choice did she have? She didn’t carry around spare underwear.

Lunchtime passed.

What was Mal’s plan? He didn’t forget her, right? There were no roads to a dragon fortress hanging off a cliff. And unlike him, she couldn’t fly.

Cheryl kept herself busy by booting up his giant office computer and checking her email. Several classmates had messaged to find out if she was okay, and her professor, while not understanding the situation, wanted to reschedule her draft portfolio review to pick out the third show piece this afternoon.

She checked her watch. Approaching two.

She typed up replies, touched by her classmates’ concern and hoping her professor didn’t mind rescheduling for later.

Too bad she’d left her tablet at the draft portfolio review. Cheryl scrounged Mal’s drawers and folders for blank paper and pens. It had been awhile since she’d drawn in analog. No easy way to erase the permanent marker, and no layers to keep separate.

She could use this time to make a final show piece. Something hard-hitting and commercial—no, she could make all three show pieces. Yeah. She could redeem her grade and make her professor happy with her and wow her classmates. The delay was good, really. She tried to convince herself as the hours dragged past and her nerves grew twitchy.

And also, she was kind of starving.

Mal didn’t have food in his house. The kitchen was as barren as the rest of the stone rooms. She would kill for a protein bar.

Cheryl abandoned her dramatic snow scene—it was already going in the Hallmark direction, with shiny sparkles and happy icicles—and took a quick break to sketch an overweight, shy woman strangling a cutesy, green dragon wearing Mal’s sexy gray jacket. Not that it meant anything…

She uploaded it to her Tumblr and Deviant Art accounts.

Oh, there was a message from her biggest fan, DragonLord C.

“Thank you for the picture of the dragon wearing chaps. Can I please have your picture of the dragon wearing silk pajamas? Your drawings are so wonderful. Thank you for your consideration.”

Her heart thumped and her face heated.

Yesterday, after the logo disaster, she’d relaxed with quick sketches of a miniature dragon lounging in the same silk pajamas shirt Mal had been wearing. Because of nice comments from fans like DragonLord C on her cutesy, non-commercial drawings, like this one, she’d uploaded it on the MAX ride.

“Sure,” she typed. “Do you want me to sign it to DragonLord C?”

The reply came only moments later. “I would love a signed print.”

Well, that got trickier. She’d meant to sign the electronic copy for him, not a physical version. Cheryl chewed on the problem.

It was easy to make signed prints. She could go to any office store and get one printed as a postcard size or smaller, sign, and mail it to her fan. Of course, per item it was expensive. It would make more sense to print a batch. And it wasn’t her first request. DragonLord C was only her newest fan; she’d had requests off and on for years.

Or she could get serious.

She could set up an account with a professional art manufacturer and then try to sell her work. There were fees and operating costs, so she’d have to work hard to recoup her investment. She could even set up an Etsy store.

But this art was just for fun. It would never make any money. There was no point in getting serious. She gave it away.

And why figure out the trip to an office store just to print out one copy? She should try to get to the campus lab. She was fooling herself that anyone besides DragonLord C would want one.

“Sorry,” she typed. “I don’t have a printer. Maybe later.”

“I will print it. Will you sign if I bring it to you?”

Huh. That was farther than most fans went. “Do you live in Portland?”

“No, but I will make the trip if you will sign it.”

This fan must live close, like Kelso or Beaverton. Still, the trip would cost half a tank of gas.

She heated. How flattering.

“Sure,” she typed. “But only if you bring DragonLords A and B.”

The chat went dead for several minutes. She studied the setup fees at her favorite art printers and dreamed.

DragonLord C resumed chat. “I will do this. Who are they?”

Hah. Okay. “It was a joke. Sorry. Because you’re C I thought there might be an A and B. When do you want to meet?”

“I can arrive in one hour.”

Back to the problem. “Today is bad,” she typed. What time was it? After four? Where was Mal? Seriously, what was he thinking?

“Tell me when to come this week,” DragonLord C replied. “Also LOL to your joke.”

A pity laugh.

“Very funny,” DragonLord C typed.

She wouldn’t go that far. But whatever. It was nice of DragonLord C to pretend she was funny. Even she didn’t think it was a good joke. Her fan must be desperate for a signed print. Which was heartwarming in its own way.

Cheryl rose again and stretched. Despite the relaxing shower, her muscles were beginning to cramp from hunching over Mal’s keyboard. She was still sore and achy. Her stomach growled.

Seriously. Where was he?

She called Jasper a second time. “Did you give Mal my message?”

“Yes, immediately after you asked me to.”

Her belly lurched. Jasper had given Mal her message hours ago. A dangerous awareness, like the drop of an icy rock about to pick up snow and turn into an avalanche, made the inside of the office as chilly as the sparkling snow.

Her voice sounded far away in her own ears. “He didn’t call me.”

“Oh.”

Silence filled the line.

She rubbed her head. So when you said I was yours, Mal, what did that mean, exactly? “Can I talk to him?”

“He is meeting with Darcy and Alex,” Jasper said. “Someone leaked our plan to the Carnelians and they have already bought up all the silk worms in China, so he is researching a new product.”

Oh.

Right. Of course. Mal was devoted to the company a hundred percent. Probably the shock of the betrayal caused him to dive so deeply into the new problem he hadn’t come up for air. And she had said for him to call when he had a few free minutes.

But another thought kept bashing against her mind, no matter how hard she tried to push it away.

Was she so unimportant to him that, the day after he proposed to her and they had sex for the first time, he forgot all about her?

God. Her stomach clenched. She always thought when she found someone to love her, and started her first relationship and began thinking about marriage and family, she would never prioritize work so much that she didn’t have time for the loved ones she was working for.

Mal was different.

But he liked her. He cared for her and wanted her to be happy. Especially last night.

Then why didn’t he call?

Her stomach clenched again. Had she been so wrong?

No. This was all speculation. She wouldn’t jump to any conclusions until she spoke to Mal herself.

“Okay, um, thanks, Jasper.” Her voice was shaking. Dammit. She cleared her throat. “I’ll just talk to him later when he—”

“Here he is,” Jasper said, and a rage-filled bellow made her jump even from the distance of the phone line.

“This is a meeting!” Mal roared.

“I know,” Jasper said distantly. The phone changed hands and Jasper’s voice receded. “It’s your wife.”

There was a pause.

Her heart squeezed.

Mal’s throaty growl filled the line. “What do you want?”

Direct. To the point. The same gruff tone he would take with anyone… but maybe gentler than the roar he had thrown at Jasper?

“Um.” Her heart squeezed again, hard, and her hands started shaking. She rubbed her head. Nerves flirted with hope. “I wanted to know what you’re doing.”

“I’m working.”

Right. Right.

“Right,” she said. “Um, thanks.”

The tremors in her hands reached her voice. She shook harder than any time she’d had to meet a stranger. Because now she had been remade as a person, in Mal’s bed, and he had been remade by being with her, it was like they were strangers.

She needed him to tell her everything was okay. He hadn’t left the bed because waking up beside her fat, ugly body had horrified him in the light of day. She needed him to tell her she was still loved. Just as much as he’d made her feel loved last night.

“So, um, today. You left me here.”

His silence confirmed the truth of her statement. Yes, he had left her at his house. She could almost hear him say, “So what?”

Although he hadn’t said that, she flinched anyway. “Ah, well, I wondered what was your plan.”

“My plan for what?”

“For me,” she said.

When he continued to remain silent, she began to fight the terrifying feeling he had no plan for her. His plan was to run away to work and never see her again.

“What was your plan for me?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

No.

He didn’t have time for her. The dismissal in his rough tone stung more than a thousand cuts in her most sensitive places.

“We’ll talk when I get home.”

The phone went silent. He had hung up on her.

She gripped the phone with shaking fingers. “When will you be home?” A scream of rage filled her with dragonesque fury and she threw the phone against the wall so it shattered into a million pieces…

Okay, she didn’t do that. That was the Cheryl of her imagination.

In real life, she placed the handset on its cradle silently and daydreamed about the meltdowns she would never have while demanding the people she loved spent time with her.