Fragile Beings (New Protectorate, #0.5)

by Abigail Kelly

Seeing him near, she whipped her head round to hiss at him, eyes lit with rage, and slammed one of those wee feet directly into his nose.

Too bad he was a surly recluse who preferred wounded animals to people and lost whatever charm he might have had in a bloody cornfield a hundred years ago.

In that moment, she understood three things: First, that Domhnall was far, far more dangerous than she initially assessed. Second, that he was no threat to her. And third, that she desperately wanted his hands on her.

“Because you remind me of a firefly. You’re pretty and small and light up the darkness. I want to cup you in my hands and keep you close. Is that so bad?”

“As long as you promise to never let anyone put me in a jar again, you can get as weird as you want with your soul, old man.” She grinned.

“What? Why should I close my eyes?” “Because,” he replied, moving to open his door, “you don’t need to see what I’m going to do to these people, glowbug.”

“Glowbug, open up. I need to see you.” He closed his eyes, wincing. Didn’t mean to say that. What he meant to say was, “Are you okay?” Or even, “Do you need me?” But what came out of his mouth was a pitiful plea.

“What happens if you find out I’m annoying? Or incredibly high maintenance?” Dom cracked a tiny, breathtaking smile. “I already know those things.” Charlotte hissed and gave his knee a tiny pinch. “I am not high maintenance!”

Artem hadn’t been so struck by the sight of something since his very first flight. Like seeing that first sunrise burst over a glittering horizon from high in the air, the sight and smell and sound of her burned a place for her and her alone in his mind.

The spot under a dragon’s wing was a place reserved for Chosen mates and offspring only. It was where a dragon could keep them safe, but was also a show of trust.

It was like he’d seen inside her lonely soul and said, No, that space is for me now. You don’t have to feel that way anymore.

When he cracked an eye open to peer at her from the mound of softness in the nest, it was always followed by a sleepy grin and a soft, “Sweet treat, I miss you even in my dreams.”

“I don’t care how small your life is, as long as there is room for me in it.”

“Because you Chose me first, when I was at my lowest and most afraid. You drew me down from the sky and saved my life. That kind of courage is…” He stopped, unable to find the right words. “It’s so rare, Paloma. A heart like yours, a mind like yours, deserves to be treasured.”

Isn’t that what elves believe? Whoever catches the newborn has familial rights?”

Never again would he be lost. Never again would she be alone. They Chose one another. They were one. “Always,” he answered. “Always.”

It wasn’t like any kiss she’d had before. It tore Elise’s soul out by the root and replaced it with something new. Something bigger and fuller than anything she knew before.

“Why is it better?” Casting him a smile over her shoulder, she answered honestly, “Because it has a better view of the fog, of course.”

Kaz explained to him that a mate was something special. Something like a home and a lover and a best friend and a fascinating stranger all wrapped up in one being. Cal hungered for that.

If he had learned anything since his disastrous birth, it was to follow his instincts. They had yet to guide him wrong, and they were currently telling him that whatever it was he needed, Elise had it.

Cal hoarded every little thing he knew about Elise with the rabid acquisitiveness of a dragon. If he could have turned what he knew into pearls, he would have kept the color of her eyes, the scent of her hair, the story behind the scar on her knee, and the way she sighed when he kissed her throat in the palm of his hand always.

Cal caught sight of the sign above the door. No solicitors. No crooks. No murderers — unless you’re here for an interview.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to ask her,” Kaz answered. “Women are all about being asked, Cal. They are way more forgiving of a stupid question than an assumption. Don’t ever work on assumptions. That way lies sharp claws, poisoned coffee, and nights on the couch.”

Kaz’s voice rose above the din as he cursed. “Fucking— Damn it, Cal, you can’t just drop your clothes in the middle of the bar!”

“Oh, gods, I love you, you weird fog man,” she wheezed,

Elise’s voice was soft and sure when she continued, “He is Calamity. He is mine. The first time Cal kissed me, I knew it like I knew my magic, my heart, my hands. The kind of knowing that is instinctive and soulful even when it is new and terrifying.” She caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He is mine and I am his. Forever.”