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“Yes.”
She bites her lip and giggles, burying her head into the crook of my neck. “You know what I mean, Orcus. You’re huge.” A bloom of her happiness fills my chest.
Mmm. My mate says all the right things. “The biggest you’ve ever had?”
She chokes on a laugh. “Uh, yeah.”
“The only ogre?” The thought of her with another makes me want to smash something.
A light slap hits my shoulder. “Of course, you possessive ogre. You’re the only green giant for me.”
My chest rumbles in approval, and I flip her onto the mattress, burying my face between her thighs again.
“Oh fuck,” she gasps, grabbing my hair without worrying this time.
Good.
EIGHTEEN
Who needs a kitten when you can have a dragon?
DAISY
I sleep hard for a few hours, but a soft snap of a twig wakes me. Every muscle in my body is beyond relaxed thanks to Orcus. I roll over to face the sleeping giant, and almost laugh at the way the sheet is snagged on his tusk. I carefully remove the fabric and smooth one finger over the ivory, admiring the golden cuffs. My gaze strays to his neck and I grin at the dark blue bruise I left on his skin. This ogre is my mate. The bond pulses hard in agreement. I have to suck in a sharp breath to keep myself from squealing at the sudden reminder of the sentient bond. I’ll never get used to it.
But, I’ll admit, it’s nice to know that it’s there. It’s interesting the way I can sense Orcus’ feelings and how he can sense mine. Humans are at a severe disadvantage, having to rely mostly on being able to process and then communicate feelings. Not to mention the dating scene is horrendous. Orcus can’t exactly swipe right on me now that we’re tied together for all of eternity.
The big ogre exhales and rolls over, flopping onto his back with a loud snore. He’s lucky he’s cute because that snoring is disgusting. Even with the obnoxious sounds he’s making, I could stay in this bed forever, but the other sound comes again.
Snap, snap, snap.
Sitting upright, I listen for it again. Rustling. A soft, pitiful mewl. My breath catches. Something is out there and it sounds like a kitten. I ease off the bed, not wanting to wake Orcus and send him into overprotective mode. I slip on his shirt and tiptoe to the entrance and slip out of the tent and into the early morning sun. The air is damp, heavy with the promise of rain, and the sun rays filter through the moisture in shafts of rich, golden light. The forest floor is soft beneath my bare feet, but I duck back into the tent to grab my sandals, not eager to hurt my feet.
That soft mewl sounds again.
My heart clenches. It sounds so tiny. Maybe it lost its mama?
I head toward the sound, searching the ground for a kitten. The noise comes from deeper within the trees this time, and I sigh and begin to walk a little faster. Ducking under branches, dodging jagged rocks, and looping around bushes, I chase after the sound until I come face to face with what is absolutelynota kitten.
A little dragon, barely one foot tall, tips its head at me and blinks its big eyes. Pretty shimmering light blue scales cover the entirety of its body and its tiny wings flap, but they’re too weak to carry it into the air more than a few inches. And then it mewls. My heart is so full it might burst out of my chest.Thisis the baby? Against all better judgment, I drop to my knees and pspsps the dragon like I would a cat.
“Hi, baby,” I coo. “Are you lost?”
It mewls again before taking a step toward me. The wings help the little dragon move and the step ends up more of a cute bunny hop. I admire the scales and the faint impression of ridges over the crown of its head. Its eyes are golden, the pupils more of an oval slit than round like mine.
“That’s it. What are you doing out here all on your own?”
Another bunny hop brings it closer. Be still my baby dragon loving heart. This thing is so freaking cute! Little, too. I always figured dragon babies, if they were real, would be the size of full-grown horses. Another gentle meowing sound and I lose all sense and reach for the dragon, eager to pet it.
Its head lifts as it scents the air and me, and after a moment of indecision, the dragon baby surges forward and bumps its little head against my hand. I gasp and release anawwbefore carefully running my fingers over the top of its head. The scales are hot to the touch.
“What’s your name, hmm?” I move my fingers under its chin, hoping it’ll like being scratched, and grin when the dragon’s eyes drift half-shut and its head tips to the side. “You sweet little thing. Maybe we should name you Sweetness?”
It growls in protest.
“Well, that’s not very sweet of you now, is it?” I ask with a teasing laugh. “Hmm. No, a cutesy name won’t do. Dragons are fierce warriors, aren’t they?”
It chirps in agreement and butts its head against my palm. I smooth my hand down its back like I would a cat and think of a name. Blue scales. Golden eyes.
