I carefully remove the gauze. My nose wrinkles at the sight of the swelling, red area on the boy's upper back, covered in big, broken blisters. It must have hurt like hell before I gave him the strong pain killers. I am starting to wonder whether the dose is enough. Would Chris actually tell me, if he was in pain? He never complains, only keeps thanking me and apologizing, as if this isn't his house and he didn't experience something horrific just a few hours ago. My heart sinks at the thought of what could have happened, if he hadn't crawled out of his hiding place under the log. The sight of his wounds makes me mad at the military. The general promised they would guard the perimeter. How Chris managed to sneak past them is beyond me. His stealth seems to be remarkable. I am sure the soldiers did not neglect their duties, but he is like a lurking cat, quiet and undetectable. 

   I am most angry with myself, though, and perfectly aware of my responsibility. My place is not here. The Secundus is right. My stubbornness and unwillingness to leave could have cost a human life. I am looking at this amazing, brave, handsome man, in whose house I have been living for five years, and his suffering is killing me. He has lost everything, but still fought for twenty years to come back home. I had no right to kiss him. He wouldn't have asked for it, if he knew who I was. And yet, I have never wanted anything else so badly in my entire life, probably also in all of the other lives I do not remember anymore. I craved his silky, pink lips from the first moment I saw him. He is skinny, pale and might look weak, but is carrying proudly the scars of his unsparing existence. He chose it himself and never regretted it, freedom instead of defeat. I would have chosen the same. We have a lot in common, even if it doesn't show at first sight.

   If only I knew exactly where I met the Lux. If I could remember his face, I would have found him by now and gone home with him. Chris would have reached his parents' farm unharmed instead of being burned by a damn dragon. But time is like a giant spider web. When a reality is lost or changed, it leaves very little behind, just a faint sense of vague memories. The string winds back and forth, entwining the past and the present. As long as one end is loose, I have no control over its course. Only my father can guide it, but my destiny is untouchable, even to him, for darkness is endless and chaos cannot be tamed.

   "Dee*? What's up?" Chris waves his hand to capture my attention. "Is it really bad? Why did you stop and became so silent?"

   (Dee - name of Welsh origin, meaning 'Dark')

   "No! No, you're fine." I snap out of my contemplation. "The medicines are working. All seems good... Wait! How did you call me?"

   "Sorry!" he mutters nervously. "I won't use it again if you don't like it. Deon sounds a bit intimidating. You're sweet... we kissed... I thought I should use a nick name that suits you more..."

   "I like it," I answer too quickly for it to pass as a casual reply. The slightest hint of sadness or worry in his voice throws me off balance, especially if I am the reason. "I've never had a nick name before, not such a cute one at least. I am not even sure if I deserve it, but I'd love it if you call me Dee. It's actually very suitable."

   "You don't have to agree to everything I want," Chris sighs. "Out of pity."

   "What?" I gaze at his nape. "You think I kissed you out of pity?"

   "I don't know. Perhaps. I'm not fooling myself," he shrugs. "I can hardly be called hot stuff right now."

  "You know what?" I grip his wrist. "You are sprawled face down on the bed and I am treating your burn injuries. Any decent person would feel sorry for you. Am not I right? Can you guess what I'm thinking instead?"

   "Ugh... I..." I don't wait for him to finish and put his palm on my crotch. It's a stupid move. My erection is already painful without his hand on it. Now I'm literally on heat. He gasps, "Whoa! Dee, you're... "

   "Hard," I hiss through gritted teeth, releasing his hand before this whole things goes way off the rails. "Does it feel like pity? Your jeans are too loose. I've been staring the entire time at that soft curve of your hips they fail to cover, and thinking how I want to kiss you right there like crazy."

   "Dee... Oh, my God!" he giggles. His laughter is like the cool sea breeze in hot summer. It brings nothing but bliss. Chris turns to the side and points a finger at me. "Don't say things like that."

   "Why not?" I smile. His face is crimson and it only makes him cuter.

   "Because now I want it too," he whispers, but quickly adds. "I mean... not now... some day, if you still..."

   "We have a deal," I smirk. He nods in agreement and goes back to laying on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow. Our little pact seems to calm him. I run my fingers through his messy shoulder-length strands. "Would you like me to cut your hair? It's beautiful, but half of it is singed. It will grow faster and stronger this way."

   "Yeah," he beams. "It's a good idea. Thank you! Do you know how?"

   "Well, I am not a professional, but I cut my own. I do a decent job. I promise you won't be disappointed." I help him get up and put on a t-shirt, trying not to gaze too much at the smooth skin of his bare chest. "How is your stomach? Do you think you can eat something? You must be hungry."

   "Can I cook?" Chris asks enthusiastically. "You have eggs, right? I make great omelets. At least I could when I was ten. I remember how it's done. Do you eat eggs?"

   "Yeah, sure, quite a lot of them. Great idea," I instantly agree. He looks happy and it makes my heart swell. When did that boy start to affect me so much? "Let's go. We'll cook first, eat and then I'll take you to the back yard to show you my little zoo. I plan to demonstrate my skills as a stylist later this evening."

   "Admit it!" Chris laughs, taking my hand. "You're in a hurry to cut my hair while I still can't see, so that I don't kick your ass when I look in the mirror."

   Our fingers naturally intertwine as we walk down the stairs. The living room is still a bit chilly, reminding of my chief adviser's presence. It's a nice relief from the summer heat.

   "Absolutely," I grin. "By the time you see the result, you will already like me too much to take revenge on me."

Photo 119987270 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com

Photo 125556068 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com

A/N

Hello at the end of chapter 11!

Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤

Chris and Deon are more and more comfortable together.

Is this a beginning of a love story?

Is it going to be a tragic or a happy one?

I am curious how many of you are convinced at this point that Deon is the dragon?

Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.

And don't forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.

Love: Anny