“I... love you,” Scarlet confessed.
Mal’s entire body stiffened and Scarlet wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. Was it tainted by the overwhelming rush from such incredible sex? Should she have waited for the afterglow to pass?
But it wasn’t the sex that made her say it; her body was already humming comfortably, but there was new need beneath it. She loved the sex, but this was more. This was his arms around her, his gentle mouth on her brow. It was the way she wanted to tell him everything and discover everything about him. It was the way she way dying to find out what his favorite food was and feed it to him, figure out where he was ticklish, learn all his habits and quirks and shyly show him hers.
It was the way she recognized herself in his eyes: all the isolation and buried desire for connection.
He made a noise that Scarlet couldn’t interpret and drew her closer. “I love you,” he replied, and Scarlet hadn’t known that the feelings inside her could swell further.
They continued to lazily touch and caress for what might have been moments or hours, unwilling to move apart.
“You never did answer the question about whether or not you needed sleep,” Scarlet reminded him, when he bent to draw the displaced quilt over them against the late night chill. He had fascinating goosebumps all along his arm. She stroked them as he folded her back into his arms.
“I have a better idea,” he said, and Scarlet was delighted to feel him stir in interest against her leg.
Chapter 23
Mal fell into inevitable sleep after a second round with the fiery, insatiable dryad.
No, not insatiable, he thought, laying in his bed as he woke. He could bring her to pleasure and leave her flatteringly limp with contentment. Just... how had she put it? She ran hot. Every time he touched her, she was instantly interested, responsive to his touch. He smiled, still not ready to open his eyes.
Scarlet wasn’t in bed with him, wasn’t in his cottage at all. She was in her office, he knew, by the singing mate-bond in his heart, and when he reached, she answered.
You dreamed, she observed.
Of you? Mal didn’t remember his dreams often.
Of deep places, Scarlet told him. She was distracted.
What are you doing?
Pa
perwork, Scarlet said wryly. It’s incredible how much paperwork is involved in the end of the world. I’ll need your buyout offer in writing before Jenny and Travis leave. They’re taking the boat to the mainland with the last of the staff once the private jet has left with Conall and Gizelle.
All business. Focused. Mal was still half-asleep, and he tried to figure out why she felt a little different than usual, why things felt a little off. He dismissed the niggling worry as lingering concern about the looming battle.
We are ready, his dragon said confidently. It is a good plan, and we are strong together.
They had a few days left to perfect their synchronicity, but Mal already knew that with Scarlet’s power behind his magic, there was little chance of failure. His fate felt like it was easily in hand.
Also, he was hungry.
We worked up an appetite, his dragon said smugly.
Mal threw off the sheet he’d slept under, pausing to press his face into a tangle of it and inhale Scarlet’s intoxicating scent of earth and growing things.
Our mate, he thought with triumph.
He had to drag himself out of the bed with effort and after a quick shower, he dressed and decided to get a quick snack from the bar cooler.
The resort was weirdly quiet.
All the usual birds and insects were chirping, but there was no one splashing in the pool, no loud chatter at the bar, no music anywhere. The restaurant and kitchen were still; Mal had not realized what a constant Chef’s singing was until it was gone.
The last of the staff would be packing, he realized with a pang. This was the end. They would leave on the boat and Conall and Gizelle would take a private jet away to a new life.
If—when—he and Scarlet were triumphant over the wyrm, the resort would still be battered by their battle. It would take time to get repairs facilitated.