Page 59 of Taught By the Dragon
She’d never even mentioned the light. And for a second, guilt crashed down over her. Of all the people she’d met, Bronx was the one person who might actually help her without wanting something in return.
But, no. She’d been naïve as a child, and she wouldn’t fucking be it again.
She touched her birthmark on her neck but quickly lowered her hand.
Bronx must’ve seen it, though, judging by what he said next. “Has anyone ever told you it looks like a roaring dragon head?”
She frowned. “No.”
He said nothing, merely keeping pace with her strides.
She and silence were good friends. And yet, with Bronx, she didn’t like it. She blurted, “It’s been called a mark of evil, or of being a freak, but that’s it.”
Bronx stopped and turned toward her. His flashing pupils made her step back. He growled, “Who the fuck said that?”
Instinctively, she knew his anger wasn’t directed at her. “The other orphans. Even at the facility.” She swallowed, and her voice was barely audible when she added, “Even the orphanage headmistress said it was why my mother abandoned me.”
Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered all the times that bitch had used Percy’s birthmark to put her down, make her feel small about herself, and to almost believe she deserved to be abandoned.
It was all rubbish, of course. But not even she could be completely rational when it came to her abandonment issues, as the doctors inside the facility had called them.
“Hey, Percy.”
She wiped her cheeks, mortified to discover they were wet with tears, and met Bronx’s gaze. The tenderness had returned, which only made her heart ache even more, for something she could never—would never—have.
He put out a hand as if to touch her but retreated. Before she could think better of it, she stated, “Stop doing that.”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
Her cheeks burned, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “I hate when people move as if to touch me and then retreat. I survived seven years of hell, Bronx. A touch won’t toss me into hysterics.”
Slowly, oh so slowly, he put a hand on her upper arm. The feel of his strong, warm fingers against her thin top made her body tingle in places she didn’t want to think about. When he rubbed up and down, the friction made her suck in a breath.
His voice was deep and even when he said, “I only hesitated because I wanted you to have the choice, Percy. For too long, people took what they wanted. Now I want you to have the ability to receive only what you wish.”
He put his other hand on her other arm, and the combination of his caresses made her take a step toward him. But her throat was tight, and her eyes stung, and she was completely lost for what to say.
Not just because Bronx kept giving her choices. No, because she wanted to close the distance between them and revel in the heat of his chest and arms and to hear his heartbeat under her ear once more.
He moved one hand to her face and wiped away the wetness there. “But now that you’ve given me permission to touch you—at least for now—I might do it too much.”
She wanted to tell him yes, to please touch her. To hold her, kiss her, and make her feel wanted, if only for a few minutes.
But the light inside her head shifted slowly into the shape of a dragon. Her beast stayed a few beats, tilting her head at Percy. This time, her dragon was clearly defined, complete with her beautiful purple scales, and her wings stretched out behind her.
Her dragon said,I like him.
Then she morphed back into the sphere, and Percy cried out.
She must’ve done it aloud, because Bronx asked, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Stepping backward, he released her, and Percy closed her eyes.Are you there? Please, dragon, won’t you come out again? I have so much to ask you and tell you and plan with you. Please.
Silence.
“Percy? What’s wrong?”
The appearance of her dragon had snapped Percy from the moment, which was a good thing. She had one goal to accomplish: embrace her dragon and shift. Bronx was nice, and yes, she liked his touches. But he wasn’t part of her plan.
