To Love a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,12

in that manner? She was of a wholly different species, so small, so short-lived, and yet…

He knew it was possible to have her as his mate. He knew it was possible to become more like her. Though he could not begin to guess why dragons and humans shared that sort of bond, the truth of it was plain—some force greater than any human, greater than any dragon, had decided some of them were meant to be together regardless of their species.

Was it possible that Leyloni was meant to be his?

Leyloni gently lifted Serek off the floor, removing the blanket as she drew him against her chest. The hatchling didn’t stir. She draped the blanket over her shoulder and crouched to pick up her bag. She carried everything over to the opposite side of the fire, where she set the bag down and sat. Keeping one arm around Serek, she swung the blanket around her shoulders, drew it closed around herself and the hatchling, and lay down on her side facing Arysteon. She settled her head atop her bag.

The extra distance she’d put between herself and Arysteon was so miniscule it should barely have registered to him, but it seemed as vast as the sea.

With Serek nestled in the crook of her arm, Leyloni looked down at his face and gently smoothed back his dark hair. The crackling fire, pouring rain, and distant rumbling of thunder were the only sounds for a long while. Slowly, Arysteon’s lust eased. He found himself content simply to watch the humans rest and marvel at the stunning depth in Leyloni’s eyes, which she kept open despite her obvious weariness.

In place of that fading lust rose something just as powerful—protectiveness. These two humans were so small and fragile, alone in a huge, unforgiving world. They were his to protect now.

“Sleep, Leyloni,” he rumbled. “I will guard you in your slumber.”

“Are all the stories about dragons true?” she asked, turning her tired eyes toward him.

Arysteon shifted his neck to angle his head more directly toward her. His tongue flicked out instinctively; the air was still redolent of Leyloni. “I do not know the stories to which you refer. What do your kind say about mine?”

“That you could become human if you are touched by one.”

A hot, constricting sensation halted Arysteon’s heart. He squeezed his eyes shut against the discomfort. When his heartbeat resumed, that heat spread outward, tingling along his limbs. It was almost reminiscent of how he’d felt when he’d been caught doing something he should not have been doing as a whelpling.

There was no way she could have known what he’d been thinking moments ago, no way she could have guessed at his innermost wonderings…was there? For her to bring up this matter now, so soon after it had been swirling through his mind, could not have been coincidental. Perhaps humans were much better at reading dragons than he’d assumed.

Or, perhaps, her thoughts had simply been led down the same path as his by their current situation. Leyloni had just lost everything—everyone—except a defenseless hatchling. Was it not natural for her to long for a protector? To long for someone to ease some of her pain by forging a new connection?

To long for a mate?

Did not Arysteon himself harbor some of those same desires?

And yet even knowing those stories, even in her weary and desperate state, even having had ample opportunities to do so, Leyloni had made no attempt to touch him.

Was it uncertainty, lack of desire, or…or simply a reflection of the sort of person she was? A reflection of her kindness, her strength, her respect. He could not help but admire her even more for her resolve—for what she had not done even though there had been a chance of claiming something better for herself.

He would give her the truth—now and always, no matter how long their time together lasted.

Spark humming in anticipation, Arysteon opened his eyes and lifted his head, settling his gaze upon Leyloni.

But whatever words he’d meant to speak faded before he could give them voice. Her eyes were closed, her expression relaxed, her body unmoving. She was just as still as the sleeping hatchling.

Arysteon extended his tongue. Despite the now prevalent scent of burning wood, it was still her fragrance that stood out to him the most.

“Leyloni?” he asked softly.

He held his breath for several moments, as though his breathing would be too loud for him to hear her response, but she made no reply. That warm tingling, at