Page 6 of Saving Her Dragon

There was no screaming. No panic. Not even a whiff of the sulfurous phantom scent that usually clung to his skin like a second shadow.

There were only birds, the Black-crested Titmouse, if his memory served him right, whistling a cheerful tune to usher in the day. A warm, gentle Texas breeze followed, carrying the sweet scent of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass. Sunlight filtered through the pale curtains, painting long, golden stripes across the wall and mirror.

Garrett let out his breath, a slow exhale that shuddered against his teeth. Beneath his palms, the fabric wasn’t rough canvas or blood-stained stone. It was soft cotton.

Beside him, a gentle warmth shifted.

Slowly turning his head, afraid the illusion would shatter if he moved too fast, Garrett’s gaze shifted to the bed, and he breathed a much-needed sigh of relief.

Sydney was curled tightly against his side, one hand resting lightly over his ribs. Her breathing was deep and rhythmic, the steady rise and fall a grounding anchor against the lingering echoes in his mind.

For the first time in his adult life, maybe ever, Garrett felt safe.

The realization hit him with a heavy, heartbreaking ache in the pit of his stomach. Safety shouldn't feel like a foreign language. It shouldn't feel like a luxury he hadn't earned.

It should just be there. No fight. No pain. It was a basic need, and it sucked when you didn’t have it.

Looking into the gorgeous face of his Mate, his heart skipped a beat. With her features softened by sleep, and the glow of the light of her soul shining so brightly, she looked like an angel… his angel, the one who had saved him from a fate worse than death.

He couldn’t help but feel so very lucky and incredibly blessed. This was the woman the Universe had made for him and him alone. She was the Light to his Darkness, the soft to his hard, the hand that punched through the unending pain and despair and brought him home when he had resigned himself to an eternity in Hell.

Carefully brushing a stray blond curl from her cheek, his knuckles ever so lightly grazed her soft, silken skin. Gasping when a bolt of electricity skittered up his arm and shot straight to his heart, he reveled in the physical representation of the unbreakable bond he shared with Sydney. Pulling back, terrified his scarred hands might somehow taint her peace, he simply could not look away.

* * *

She deserves better, he thought, the heavy weight of survivor's guilt tightening in his chest. “Definitely better than a broken Guardsman who barely remembers how to tie his shoes, much less half his life.”

“Stop that shite right now,” Aodhan, the Dragon King with whom he shared his soul snapped. “Not another frekkin’ word, Lad.”

“But…”

“Not. A. Word.” Han’s voice was deep, guttural, and so full of the brogue of the Highlands it took Garrett a second to get everything the Dragon King was saying, but he felt the meaning and the emotion in every syllable. “The Universe made Sydney for you and you for her. Sydney didn’t walk away– she fought for you. She pulled your ass, and mine for that matter, out of the literal Abyss.”

“Yes, but…”

“There is no but,” the Dragon King snarled. “Snap out of it. Put yourself back together. You can do this.”

Exhaling slowly, Garrett ran his free hand through his hair and agreed, “Yeah, you’re right. It is the least I could do for her.”

“And for yourself, Lad.”

For the better part of twenty minutes, Garrett sat in contented silence, watching his Mate sleep, listening to the birds sing and refusing to think about his brief conversation with Han. Slowly winding a stray curl of her silken hair around his index finger, he thought about different ways to show Sydney how very much he loved and appreciated her.

Lost in thought, he was so focused that when she started to stir, his finger jerked from her hair. Looking into her gorgeous face, he couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear when her lashes fluttered open.

Blinking up at him, her brilliant blue eyes still soft with sleep and shining with love, the woman who literally held his heart and soul in the palm of her hand smiled. "Morning.”

Her voice was dreamy and husky, filling his mind with all kinds of wonderfully wanton images of them together. Clearing his throat, he gave her a sly wink. "Good morning," he cooed, and boy howdy, he meant it.

Every morning with Sydney was a gift. Something he'd never take for granted. She was his lifeline, his soulmate, his everything.

Stretching like a completely contented cat, she propped herself up on one elbow and studied him for a brief second before asking, "You sleep okay, Dragon Man?"

"Yeah." He nodded, waggling his eyebrows. "Really okay."

Smile widening, she reached up, slid her arm around his neck, and laid her lips to his. Her kiss was slow and sweet, filled with love and true affection. It was one more reassurance that he was, indeed, free of Leviathan.

Falling into what they were together, Garrett opened completely to his Mate, and in that surrender, his senses were set ablaze. Sydney tasted like love and home, and everything right in the world– and he never wanted to be anywhere but with her.