Page 6 of To Spark a Dragon's Love
Malachy may have exuded danger, but I was safe and exactly where I was meant to be.
“What do you want to ask?” His deep voice rumbled throughout the room though he’d done no more than whisper.
I shrugged with one shoulder, realizing I didn’t know what to talk about. ‘Do you prefer missionary or doggy style? Are you a cuddler? Will you hurt me?
“Can I see your tattoos?” I asked instead, mouth suddenly dry as I took a step back, needing the distance to clear my head.
Malachy turned and raised his arm, giving me full view of the ink marking up his side and of the scars that crisscrossed his back and chest.
I frowned as I forced my gaze back to the tattoos, not wanting to comment on what looked like years and years of burns marring his tanned skin.
Malachy tensed as I reached out, hesitating with my fingers just above his ribs.
“Can I touch them?”
He nodded once.
I let my finger pads graze the ink of the first tattoo. The same small rune that had appeared on Ember’s neck. And then the second rune; the one on Riley.
“What does this all mean?” I whispered, more to myself than expecting a response. I knew that Ember and Kieran hadn’t figured it out. The witches could only guess.
My finger trailed to the third rune.
Malachy inhaled sharply. His skin pebbled under my touch. My eyes found his, searching to make sure he was okay as my hand rested on that third mark. The one Kieran and the rest of them were so sure would appear on my neck once Malachy and I…
I felt the presence of the enormous bed calling at my back.
“First born of fire.” Malachy touched the highest mark, pulling me from my thoughts before they could spiral again. “It appeared at my birth as it did for every other guardian that came before me.”
“You’re the oldest.” I smiled softly. “So am I. My younger brother joined the Navy and he’s currently somewhere overseas.”
About as far from our parents as he could get, but I didn’t add that tidbit. We were still a little too early in the beginning chapters to dump out all my trauma.
“You’ve met my little brother,” Malachy said. Something softened in his eyes. “My apologies.”
I chuckled. “None needed. He’s sweet. And the second tattoo?”
“Strength born of flames.” His expression darkened again. “It appeared on my fortieth birthday, right after my father declared his retirement and finished my early training.”
“Does every guardian start at forty?” I asked, still in shock at how they thought forty was so young. I knew dragons barely reached maturity about then. But I still had four more years to get there and already felt like I was nearing my use-by date.
“It’s around that time for each of us.” Malachy shuddered as I traced my fingers lower. “My mother got ill and my fatherannounced his early retirement. But it was sooner than expected that I assumed my role because she died. My father went shortly after. A dragon can’t live without his mate.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I forced a smile.
As romantic as that sounded, it was also bullshit to accept it as truth.
I’d been in enough widow circles to know that everyone thinks they can’t survive the loss of their significant other. And to make it worse, society expects you to move on, but they judge you when you do.
But I might’ve been jaded because I’d felt like an imposter in the widow groups. My circumstances were different than the other human spouses. Besides, Malachy was a dragon shifter. Their biology had to be different, so maybe their mating habits were too.
I glanced back at the bed.
“You don’t have to do this.” His hand found mine again, but this time he didn’t clasp it. He removed my touch from his skin.
Something inside me rebelled at the thought.
“Yes, we do.” I reached for the hem of my shirt, drawing on some inner strength as I dragged the material up and over my head.
