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more of its humanity until a fully grown, fully scaled Amethyst dragon stood in front of Finch. It
was enormous. Rather, he was enormous. Finch could only stare.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Hugh was as lovely in dragon form as he was in his
human guise, but his beauty rendered Finch speechless all the same. His scales had an almost
blue cast to their violet depths. They were decidedly purple, but the sort of hue you got in
twilight skies and in the water of the lake as the sun set and night fell. Like the treasure
surrounding him, they glistened beneath the light. Finch wanted badly to touch them, but he
knew better than to try. If Hugh wanted to be touched, he’d make it known. Until then, it was
best Finch keep his hands to himself. It was never a good idea to accost a dragon.
After a moment spent in observation of Finch, Hugh turned and scrambled up the nearest
mountain of treasure. When he reached its peak, he curled up like a cat and tucked his tail
over his snoot. Some time passed. A minute or so later, Hugh lifted his head and stared down
at Finch, his large, dark eyes narrowed. Finch knew that expression and he felt, suddenly, on
firmer ground. “Is there something I can get for you, sir?”
Hugh huffed out a breath of smoke and a tiny jet of flame. With his front leg, he patted his
taloned hand on the treasure beside him.
“I’m not sure, sir. It’s really not my place.”
The dragon patted even more insistently, flipping a few coins into the air in the process. They
tumbled down the side of the mountain of treasure.
Finch sighed. Hugh was normally a very easygoing sort of man, but he could be stubborn, and
he was currently wearing his most stubborn expression. “Fine. But I’m not entirely sure how
I’m supposed to get up there without falling and breaking my neck.”
Hugh reached down and gently picked Finch up by the back of his shirt, hauled him up, and
laid him on a velvet cushion embroidered with gold and silver thread. Finch was glad he wasn’t
naked, because the pillow was itchy. With a little poke to his chest, Hugh encouraged Finch to
recline and use his scales as a backrest. They were, Finch found to his utter delight,
surprisingly smooth and comfortable, a bit like buttery soft leather, and so warm that Finch
wanted to cuddle into them forever. Once he was settled, Hugh curled around him and used
one of his mighty wings to close the open space over Finch’s head, creating a small room for
Finch made entirely of himself. It was warm and comfortable rather than stifling, and delightfully
