Page 52 of Foundling

So, it was with delight that he headed for her after his daily stretches. It was time for his and Slinky’s afternoon nap, and he knew just the place.

She merely sighed, noble resignation writ across her placid face, as Attalus settled down beside her. This time, however, wanting to see what she’d do, he lay down in front of her and put his head in her lap.

Attalus bit back his grin to hear her choke on her surprise. Her hands hovered above him, perhaps as she deliberated whether to shove him away or—preferably—stroke his hair. She did neither, however, eventually setting her hands at her sides and opting instead to peer gravely down at him.

“This really doesn’t look comfortable,” she observed.

“You’ll have to try it for yourself next time because it is indeed quite comfortable.” He winked at her before closing his eyes.

“Just watch the horns.”

“Of course, my Queen. Be assured, they’re capped. I’m not a barbarian.”

To his utter delight, he felt her gentle touch along his horns and ears. Although only the barest caress of her fingertip, he held his breath, willing more.

“Do all dragons wear as much jewelry as you?”

Attalus snorted. “This is hardly anything. I’m not fit to be seen with so little adornment.” He said it as a joke, but it was the truth. As princeps, he deserved to be dripping in gold and jewels. He should be able to dazzle his mate—and shower her in even more precious gems and gold.

The thought of Leita in nothing but the jewelry he longed to give her heated his blood. It took effort not to turn his face and nuzzle into her thigh. He was so very close to the apex of her thighs, where her scent was strong and her body warmest. He’d forbade himself from thinking about it too much out of self-preservation, but it seemed he’d fallen into a trap of his own making.

Who could have foreseen the soft lap of his beautiful mate would be so dangerous.

“A few days ago, you mentioned venom in your wound. Are dragon bites venomous?”

“They can be.” He smiled wide for her, showing off his fangs. “But don’t fret, doe. My bite for you will always be sweet. Unless of course you’d like it to hurt a little.”

He wasn’t overly surprised when his teasing innuendo left her unmoved. It was instead him who was moved at the thoughtful, almost—dare he think it—tender expression she wore as she regarded him.

“Is it deadly?”

He knew what it was she truly asked—and that he absolutely couldn’t answer truthfully. Not after what she’d told him about losing two families. He couldn’t appear weak to her in any way or else she might not dare to fulfill their bond.

“It can be if there’s enough of it. Once it’s in the blood, it has to run its course. Your magic and tender care has seen to that, though.” He smiled sweetly, hoping she believed him. It wasn’t entirely a lie, just not the whole truth. She’d certainly healed the infection and sealed the wound; however, he could feel the venom lurking in his blood. After her intervention, it would likely take longer to work out of his system.

It would run its course, as he said, just milder thanks to her.

That’s what he believed, at least. He couldn’t be weak. He had to stand strong beside her and prove he belonged there.

She didn’t seem entirely convinced, her expression unchanged, but Attalus hoped that the way she fluttered her fingers over his horns, as though reassuring herself of what he said, was a good sign.

He needed to change the subject. Although underhanded, he knew just what would distract her.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what is it that stops you from connecting with the faelands?”

Her moue of frustration told him she indeed minded him asking, but to his surprise, she eventually answered, “Something just seems to block the connection. The magic doesn’t…trust me.”

He cocked his head, intrigued. “Have you given it reason to trust you?”

She frowned at him with pure exasperation. “I’ve done everything I can to show it I’m trustworthy.”

“All right. Do you trust it in return?”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. He seemed to have truly stumped her with his question.

“I…” Leita licked her lips, her expression growing more troubled. “I suppose so, but it doesn’t matter. Not really. I’m all it has.”

“Not the most rousing reason to get along with someone.” He winked, trying to soften her adorable pout. “Have you…talked with it? Introduced yourself? Perhaps it stays away because it doesn’t know you yet.” Attalus shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I could be wrong, but trying to like each other seems a more pleasant way.”