In response to this, Bash makes a low, hollow thrumming noise in his nasal cavity. Like a super put-upon sigh, Rakhii-style.
But he still doesn’t shake me off.
See? He’s a sweet grouch.
“I wasn’t modulating my tone for anyone’s approval. I was attempting to prevent the upset of Charlotte,” he rumbles, angling his horn at her—and her eyes go wide, I think because she’s shocked to realize he knows her name. “My Weeping Counter rating is superb and I’d be loath to lose it,” he explains.
As if this is the only reason he chose not to be mean. “Uh-huh.”
When Charlotte leaves, there’s a long pause of silence between us before I can feel Bash’s eyes on the top of my head.
Me? I’ve got my cheek pressed into his shirt at his side, my short arm hitched at his stomach, my other arm along his back, and I’m hugging the hell out of him because he’s warm, super muscular, and surprisingly nice to hug.
“You’re impeding my range of motion,” he gripes down at me—but his voice is level, and not angry or even impatient.
Quit your bitching. “Just one more snuggle,” I say, burrowing my nose into his good-smelling shirt. “You smell amazing.”
“Get off me,” Bash warns. This time, his voice is firmer but there’s a thread of humor in his tone that’s unmistakable.
It makes my heart puff up, and I drop my arms from around him instantly before skipping to a spot in front of him. “You got it, pal. Hmm, I don’t know if I like that one. How about ‘bestie?’”
Bash’s nose goes up in the air, his ears held flat to show me how much he doesn’t care for this nickname.
Secretly though, I think he likes that I’ve been trying them out on him.
“Isla?”
“Yeah, Bash?”
His face is averted, and he keeps it that way when he asks, “Why do you touch me?”
“Well at first, it was to razz you,” I admit.
At this, his posture relaxes somewhat, and he mouths the word, cutting me a wide-eyed are you insane look as he shakes out his ears.
I don’t let this deter me from my reasons. “But now it’s because you feel good.” I bite my lip, trying to explain without totally jumping off a cliff he’s probably not receptive to diving off of. Evidence? Here he is, questioning a simple hug. “Do you know how long it’s been since I hugged someone? It makes me feel good.” I crouch to grab a nice-sized rock off of the ground. “You might be surprised to hear this, but you’re really good at giving hugs.”
“Yes, this news would be a surprise,” Bash mutters—pretty darn sarcastically for a guy who is mid-motion in rescuing me—his hand is gently cupping around my shoulder to steady me as I start to trip back with my rock.
“Thanks,” I breathe, righting myself.
“Unhrr,” Bash grunts, because I guess he can’t be Mr. Cheery all the time. Or any of the time, but this is good, he’s not barking or spitting fire—this is great, really. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and a grouchy dragon can’t be tamed in an hour. Rather than dropping the rock into the cart, I hold it out to him in offering. “Want this one for your collection? They all look the same and I’m not sure what you like—”
Bash takes it from me. He never even looks at the rock. “I like you.”
CHAPTER 23
BASH
(Crying Counter: Faultless)
“I can’t believe you just admitted that!” Isla exclaims, her lower eyelids turning a strange shade of pink. I lean down, peering at this change, wondering if she’s caught dust in her eyes.
She throws both her shortened wing and her full arm around me for a second round of ‘hugging.’
I… don’t fuss at her.
I don’t fuss at Isla at all. In fact, I want more.
Much, much more.
Isla’s fingers are warm on my scales. So warm I could almost vow that I can feel her touch straight into my hearts.
She’s gazing up at me looking quite pleased. “You know, you’ve done really well at this.”
“At what?” I ask, my voice deep, my eyes trained on her.
“At…” she swallows, staring up at me, and I swear to the Creator, if she gives me one signal, I will fall on her and take her right here.
“At letting me hug you. So you’ve earned a high five, right here,” Isla orders.
I would swear that her voice sounds almost forced. She’s always cheery, but this seems a superficially shiny sort.