“The other day. In the woods you did something – “
“I touched you.” He nodded.
I took a deep breath and continued. “You told me that I couldn’t hurt you. That you were safe.”
“Do you wish to touch me little one?” the dragon asked, his voice soft.
My hands clenched shut. I hadn’t been able to get the thought out of my head for days. The telltale panic ripped through me.
Because I did.
I really did.
My panic was all consuming. I turned my head away.
“Look at me?” he asked softly.
He reached out and gently pulled my face towards him. His touch on my skin was like fire.
“I am here for you, little one. However you may need me to be. If you wish to touch me, you can.”
“But I could hurt you. I hurt so many people.”
But he was already reaching for my gloved hands. I flinched quickly, but his grip was soft. He slowly slid off the glove and placed it aside.
Then he reached out his own hand and he waited.
“You can trust me.” He said softly.
And I did. I don’t know how or why – but I did.
I didn’t trust myself.
My own hand, exposed to the rising cold, looked pale in the dusk light. But I moved it. I fought every impulse to shove my hands back into my gloves, to keep myself safe.
To keep him safe.
But he looked so earnest.
I reached over to his hand—still in the same place, still waiting—and I lowered it.
My chest was heaving.
My breath was panicked.
But I needed to do this.
I needed to prove this.
When I finally rested my hand in his, flesh to flesh, I gasped.
For all his age and power, his hand was smooth and soft.
Perfectly light brown, almost golden.
His fingers curled automatically around mine, holding me in place.
It felt so right.
