Page 58 of Dragon Gods

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You didn’t need to say it.”

She wanted to argue, but perhaps he was right. It was easier to fight against those she hated.

“Fine,” she said as she stood up, movements stiff with cold and pain. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

He was polite enough not to open his mouth, instead simply moving the cloak and letting her slip in beside him. The warmth was immediate, sinking through her bones as his arm wrapped the cloak around her shoulders.

She grabbed it quickly, letting him pull his arm back. They both did their best under the cloak to not touch, bodies close enough she felt the heat of his chest. Every breath he took had his chest brushing against her back, but she couldn’t move farther without leaving the warmth of the cloak. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the nearness of his presence. For a few minutes, she wondered if the cloak was worth it. She was so aware of his body, her own muscles aching with the tension. The idea of relaxing enough to fall asleep seemed laughable.

Yet, not too long after, the warmth and the darkness took their toll and her thoughts drifted until there was nothing.

* * *

The next thingshe was aware of was the body pressed tightly to hers, the heat of it suffusing her skin. She was facing him, her face pressed into his chest and his arm draped over her. Her awareness of their position came slowly, the sleep and warmth muddling her thoughts as she let herself sink into the heat.

Her entire body stiffened as she realized exactly who was pressed so closely against her. She was very aware of every point of contact and the steady rising and falling of his chest beneath her ear. If she closed her eyes and concentrated she could almost hear his heartbeat. A good confirmation that he did indeed possess a heart, if not a soul. She was also extremely aware of the hardness pressed against her hip for the second time in so many days. She ignored the zip of heat and electricity the thought sent through her body.

It had been too long since she’d taken her energy out in that way. She didn’t mess with love and commitment, but a woman still had needs. There were a few men and women at the inn that she trusted enough to seek out pleasure from without having to worry about emotions, but it had now been blinks since such nights, and Sofia was clearly pent up.

Ocon wasn’t moving either and she could only assume he was still asleep. Even her sudden discomfort and tension hadn’t woken him. She thought briefly of closing her eyes and pretending she was asleep until he woke and rectified the situation himself. He deserved to wake up to his arms wrapped around her.She was the victim here. The other option was to slip out as quietly as possible and save them both the embarrassment of the situation. But then again, she didn’t feel like saving him anything.

So she didn’t.

Not bothering with his comfort, she simply pushed him off of her, pulling herself out from under his arm. She alsomayhave grabbed the cloak tightly in the same moment, ensuring when he went rolling off the small bed of leaves that she was left wearing it.

He let out an—in her opinion—embarrassing squeal and cursed as he woke, jumping up and brandishing his blade blindly. It took a second of blinking before his eyes focused on her. She raised an eyebrow and gave a smirk from where she sat, wrapped in his cloak.

“You couldn’t have found a better way to wake me?” he said after a moment. He seemed to recognize hisothersituation in the same moment and quickly adjusted himself, face flushing.

She shrugged. “I could have, but I just wanted you to get off me as fast as possible.”

“If I remember correctly, you cuddled into me last night as you were falling asleep.”

“And I forced you to wrap your arms around me? How frightening for you.”

He shuddered in the cool morning air and he growled at the sight of her wrapping the cloak tighter.

“Give that to me.”

“I quite like it,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. The fabric was soft and did a much better job of insulating her from the chill than her shawl.

“I’m rather fond of it, too,” he said, holding out his left hand as his right pointed the dagger in warning. “Now if you don’t hand it back, I’m going to have to fight you for it, and although I don’t doubt you have the skill to face me, I am taller, stronger, and have a dagger. If I win, you’re not getting the cloak tonight. If I lose, you’re going to have to stab me, and we know that will be a pain for both of us.”

She thought about it for a moment. The chances of her winning were probably slightly below fifty percent considering her weapon was a few feet away and she was still crouched on the ground. And the idea of sleeping out in the open that night without the cloak—especially if they didn’t find shelter again—made her chest tight.

Standing with as much dignity as she could manage, she slipped the cloak from her shoulders and threw it on the ground at her feet.

“We should head out soon. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She didn’t explain herself as she walked away, leaving him to pick up the cloak from where she’d dropped it. Her footsteps echoed on the tiles as she made her way down the widest tunnel and to the dragons’ shrine. She wanted to say one more prayer over the bones of her ancestors before they left. This might be her last chance to do so, given the cenotes closest to the city had been raided and destroyed over the past few generations leaving little evidence of the original habitants of their land. As if they might be able to pretend they had never existed to begin with.

The rabbit hearts she set out the night before after dinner were still sitting along each altar, an appeasement to the ghosts that lingered there. They were untouched by even the insects. Giving a bit more blood to the offering bowl, she kneeled and whispered the words beneath her breath. She asked for them to watch over their journey even as the small voice of her parents and Ocon both sounded in her head, reminding her that the dragons were dead. But she’d believed in many things over her life that she hadn’t seen and many of those things had turned out to be real. The resistance had been a faerytale before she’d met Javi.

And there was something about the air in the room that she couldn’t quite get past. She could almost feel the dragons here, listening and waiting. Or perhaps she was exhausted and underfed.

Ocon was drinking his fill of water by the lake when she returned. He didn’t say anything about her disappearing into the shrine again and she didn’t bother to explain.

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