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“I hope this is okay,” I whisper quietly.
He blinks.
I guess that means yes.
I run my hand over his skin. There’s still some of the ointment on my hands, so maybe it’ll help a little bit. I’m not sure. I know his skin feels smooth, though. Irresistibly smooth.
“Ointment,” I whisper. “You need more. I think it’s starting to work a little bit.”
He blinks again.
“Your eyes are open now, and you moved your mouth. That’s good.”
I don’t want to tell him that if he doesn’t get it together quickly that a giant animal could come eat us all.
Or worse.
Nicole’s little group could find us.
She probably has some sort of tracking chip implanted in her. It’s the ultimate evil corporation fallback plan. It would be cliché, but I won’t be shocked if we’re suddenly surrounded by evil dudes in black dropping out of helicopters.
Focus.
I remember when I was sick, my mom used to put Vick’s on my feet and then cover them with socks. Maybe it’ll work the same with this guy. I move to his feet, carefully ignoring the abundant manhood he’s sporting. I’ve seen my share of dicks, but his is ridiculously beautiful.
For wolf’s sake, focus!
Deep breaths, and then I reach his feet.
“I hope this doesn’t tickle,” I tell him. I try to explain what I’m doing every step of the way, especially since I know he can hear me. When I go to the doctor’s office and they don’t explain what they’re doing, I feel uncomfortable, almost violated. I don’t want this guy to feel that way.
He’s a stranger.
He’s not a monster.
I rub the cream on his feet. Then I dig out a pair of socks from my bag and somehow manage to get them on his feet. They barely fit, but they fit. Then I return to his head.
“It’s a waiting game now,” I tell him. “I don’t want to use too much more of the ointment just yet. There are still some darts left. Not that I’m planning on shooting you,” I quickly add. “But if there are other bad guys out here, you know...we’re going to want some of that fucking cream, am I right?”
He smiles at me, and I realize that it’s definitely, absolutely, positively working.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and I pet his hair.
“Everything’s going to be okay, dragon dude,” I tell him.
I just hope it’s the truth.
Chapter Eight
Natalie
I ROLL OVER, SNUGGLING against my mate.
My beloved.
My Donald.
“What’s going on, princess?” He whispers, kissing my forehead. “Trouble sleeping?” He’s sitting up beside me in bed reading. One thing I’ve learned from living with Donald is that he’s not only a light sleeper, but he also barely sleeps at all. There’s no cell service in Fablestone, but dragons come by the house at all hours of the night. It’s not every night, but when someone needs him, Donald never says no. He always gets up and goes to assist with medical emergencies or problems. Donald looks tired, though. He got back late tonight after making a house call to someone and now he’s reading in bed. I suppose I dozed off waiting for him.
