Page 71 of Kenna's Dragon

His deep chuckle draws a smile to my face as I watch him finish stoking up the fire. When he’s done, he comes back over to the couch and takes a seat on the attached lounger at the end of it, grabbing a soft blanket he brought out earlier. With a meaningful look and a pat to the space between his legs, my smile grows into a grin as I join him.

A warm, satisfied noise breaks from his chest as I settle between his thighs. With the blanket he drapes over us, the fire at my front, and the warmth of him behind me, I’m beyond cozy right now.

“I do have dragon fire,” he says. “Though I doubt I’d be able to tamp it down small enough to light a fire like that.”

“Oh really?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him. “You’re just the big, bad dragon who’d burn this whole place down?”

“Yes,” he says with deliberate, graveled char in his voice as he leans in to press his teeth lightly against the side of my throat.

I shiver. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“The whole broody, dangerous, hot shifter thing. You do it at the Bureau, too.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do. And with how perceptive you are, I’m sure you know it.”

He chuckles, but doesn’t correct me. “Well, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry the hot, broody shifter thing ruined your first day.”

I nudge my elbow against him, and he squeezes me tighter. “You didn’t ruin my first day. And besides, I was already nervous as hell about it even before you showed up.”

“Why?”

“I had this whole thing about being new-Kenna.” As soon as I’ve said it, I realize how entirely idiotic it sounds.

“New-Kenna?” Ewan asks, and when I tilt my head back to look up at him, he has one brow arched in question.

“Never mind,” I mumble, cheeks burning as I face the fire. “It’s stupid.”

Ewan reaches forward to cup my chin in his hand, turning my face back toward him. “Tell me.”

Light. We’re supposed to be keeping things light. Maybe he’s forgotten, but for some reason I don’t feel like reminding him right now.

“I’ve always been kind of… a lot, you know?” I say, shrugging like it doesn’t matter. “Ever since I was young. I speak without thinking, and just kind of jump into whatever seems right at the moment and hope things will turn out for the best. And honestly, they haven’t always turned out for the best. When I took the job at the Bureau, it felt like a fresh start.”

I tell him a little bit more about where I was before the Bureau, and how long it took me to finally graduate college. Though he asks me a couple of questions here and there, Ewan doesn’t sound judgmental or disappointed. Even when I talk about the years I spent doing nothing much at all with my life other than partying and going to bars and picking up dudes, I get a satisfyingly jealous little grumble, but no judgment.

When I’m finished, I pause for a few seconds, then laugh with a memory that pops to the surface. “A heat-seeking missile, my sister likes to call me. Barreling into whatever’s going to get me into the most trouble.”

Ewan’s arms tighten around me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Laughing again, I crane my neck back to look up at him. “I mean, it’s not good. Or at least it hasn’t been when it comes to school and a career and getting my life together.”

Ewan thinks for a moment. “That may be true, but it’s probably also the reason you’ve made the lasting friendships you have, and why you’ve been able to put so much passion into your art.”

I shrug against him. “Maybe. It also means I’ve had a lot of people judging me, especially when I was younger.”

“Is that part of the reason you left Idaho? You sounded a little sad earlier, when you were talking about your hometown.”

I nod, surprised he picked up on that. “Yeah, that’s part of it. I had a bit of a reputation by the time I graduated high school, and leaving to start over somewhere new sounded really appealing.”

“A reputation?”

“Yes,” I tell him, putting a bit more humor back in my voice, shaking off some of the heavier memories. “For parties and boys and all sorts of other things I shouldn’t have loved so much.”

“For living life,” Ewan says softly. “For having a spark that wouldn’t be contained.”

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