She shook her head. “I’ve never been to the seaside. My father avoided water so thoroughly, it never occurred to me to go myself, not even after my parents passed away.”
John had been leading her towards a small Victorian townhouse, but now he hesitated with one foot on the front step. “I had thought to rest here on land for tonight, but if you are impatient to see your true home…?”
“Oh God, no.” Neridia quailed at the thought of adding more stress to this exhausting day. She didn’t share John’s unshakeable certainty that the ocean would unlock her dragon form at last. “I’m in no rush. I’d rather see your house. Is this it?”
“Yes.” John unlocked the front door, ducking his head as he entered. “My territory is humble, my lady. But it is yours.”
John wasn’t kidding about the humble part. The house was spotlessly clean, and also terribly empty. There wasn’t a single painting or picture on the walls, though holes marked where some had once hung. Dents in the worn carpet suggested that there might have once been a sofa and armchairs in the front room, but now it contained only a single hard, straight-backed chair and a crate full of battered books.
It was about as far as it was possible to get from her own colorful, art-filled home. If she didn’t know that John lived here, she would have sworn that someone had just moved out.
“It’s, um…” Neridia struggled to conceal her dismay. “It’s very…well, there’s a lot of space.”
“It used to be my oath-brother Griff’s dwelling. He generously shared his territory with me when I first came to the land, needing a place to stay. He has since moved in with his mate, of course.” John gestured around at the empty room apologetically. “I am afraid that most of the furniture went with him. I did not feel the need to replace it. Human dwellings feel very claustrophobic to one used to the open ocean.”
Neridia peered into the box of books. It was a wild assortment, everything from bodice-ripper romances to history textbooks. It looked like John had just swept an indiscriminate armload up from the shelves of a charity shop and bought the lot.
“I thought you said sea dragons didn’t have books,” she said.
“We do not have paper under the sea, but we do learn to read and write your human tongue.” John unwrapped his sword from its concealing blankets as he spoke. “I must confess, I have acquired a fondness for books during my time on land. Human minds are endlessly inventive, if frequently rather mysterious. I learn a great deal from your literature.”
Neridia noticed that John was currently reading Fifty Shades of Grey. She decided not to ask what he was learning from that particular book. Nonetheless, she was strangely comforted by the eclectic collection. It was a tiny touch of normality in his otherwise alien lifestyle.
John hung his sword up on two hooks placed where an ordinary person might have a television. “You are hungry, my mate. I shall prepare food.”
“Food sounds good.” Neridia followed him into the kitchen. “What can I do?”
“You can rest,” he said firmly, shooing her back out again. “Allow me to take care of this task. Go, settle into the territory. It has been a long day, and I can sense your exhaustion.”
Neridia would rather have helped him cook, but she had a hunch he didn’t want her company at the moment. Her sense of him down the mate bond was strangely elusive, as if he was trying to keep his distance from her mentally as well as physically.
It’s been a long day for him too, she told herself, squelching down her own feelings of rejection. He probably just needs some space to decompress.
Leaving John to it, she wandered upstairs. The upper floor of the house was just as barren as the rooms below. The master bedroom was completely empty, even the wardrobe. Neridia guessed that must have been Griff’s room. From the looks of things, John hadn’t used it at all since his former housemate had moved out.
Somewhat to Neridia’s relief, the second bedroom did actually contain a bed. She’d been starting to fear that John slept on the floor, if he slept on land at all. At least here he wasn’t a complete ascetic. The bed dominated the small room, clearly custom-made for his immense height.
Plenty of room for two.
Despite her tiredness and homesickness, the thought sent a thrill through her. She ran her fingers over the soft coverlet, scarcely able to imagine that tonight she’d be curled up underneath it. With him.
I hope sea dragons don’t only mate in water.
A shriek split the air, sending her heart leaping into her throat. She cast around wildly for a weapon, but there wasn’t anything sharper than a pillow in sight.
Empty-handed, she ran for the stairs. “John! What-?”
The hellish noise cut off abruptly. John looked up at her sheepishly from the hallway, lowering his hand from the smoke detector in the ceiling.
“I am sorry to alarm you.” Acrid fumes curled around his head, drifting from the kitchen doorway. “The matter is under control now.”
“That’s not what it smells like.” Wrinkling her nose, Neridia ducked round him into the kitchen. Whatever John had been trying to cook was completely unidentifiable, just a black mess welded to the bottom of a pan. “What happened?”
John gazed mournfully down at the cremated remains. “Me. We do not have fire under the sea, or cooking. My oath-brother has done his best to teach me the basics, but I must confess that I still struggle with the techniques.”
“Sea dragons don’t cook?” Neridia said incredulously. “What do you eat?”
“Fish, mainly.” John dropped the ruined pan into the sink. “Or squid. Shark or kraken, as a delicacy. We hunt and eat in dragon form. For us, the pleasure of the meal comes in the catching of it more than the consuming.”