A Boy and His Dragon (7 page)

Bertie watched him with wide, shining eyes. He wet the corner of his mouth again, but this time it looked more like a gesture of uncertainty. It didn’t seem very dragonlike, but it reminded Arthur of who, of what, he was dealing with all the same, and he abruptly shut his mouth and shook his head.

“I mean, I can arrange them however you like, if you give me time to devise a workable cataloguing system that suits your needs….” His voice lowered as he gestured at the books again. He couldn’t make himself apologize, not with the state of this room when he started. But Bertie wasn’t speaking, so he had to. “And you should have space on your shelves when I’m done, for more books, or… whatever.” He gave another small wave, this time at the pile of dusty knickknacks he hadn’t looked at or tried to clean yet.

“It’s a good room,” he added, not sure why, though it
was
a nice room. Someone, probably Dr. Jones, had the bookshelves built in so it looked like the library of an old mansion. He looked back over to see if Bertie was angry and caught the lift of his eyebrows.

The eyes below them were getting warmer by the second. Arthur tugged at the collar of his T-shirt and wondered why he’d ever missed those stares when they only made him feel like he was on fire with blushes.

“You’re awfully flushed,” Bertie announced after a moment.

“Perhaps you
should
open a window.” R. Cooper

42

Arthur would
love
an open window.

“Really?” His surprise was genuine and probably all over his face with the dust, and it left Bertie upset with him, judging from the chiding noise he made.

“I’m not a monster, Arthur.” As though to prove it, he smiled.

Not a grin but a real, wide smile. Arthur could feel his lips curve up to match it, because it was a nice smile even if the man couldn’t take care of his books. Arthur’s smile was probably a little dopey, but Bertie was pleased with him after all and Arthur… didn’t know how to react except to smile goofily in return, but then he hadn’t eaten much today. He felt the smile disappear from his face when Bertie peered at him for a moment longer and then scowled. Arthur had no idea why his smile would make the other man frown, but one second he’d been delighted with Arthur and now he just looked disappointed.

“Arthur.” He hadn’t thought Bertie could sound stern. Fierce and scary, outrageous, and sexy he could do, but stern was new. It was also, like many things about his new employer, interesting. And by interesting, Arthur meant hot. He waited and Bertie threw up his hands. “You didn’t eat, did you?” He wasn’t really asking, Arthur could tell from how Bertie didn’t pause for an answer after the question. “I was willing to let this go the other day, but this is quite enough. You’ve been taking the phrase ‘starving student’ a little far, I think.”

“I have not.” The denial was instant. Arthur wasn’t even sure where it came from because he was busy watching a dragon put his hands on his hips to scold him. “I’m not starving myself on purpose here.”

The protest was overridden with a wave of one hand.

“I have something I’m sure. Cheese, if not bread. Fruit. You might need something more substantial.”
Fruit.
Arthur almost drooled.

He was so hungry his stomach had given up on growling to get his attention and turned itself into a solid, aching knot, and he forgot to bring his cup of soup today. He’d wanted to forget it. The taste, A Boy and His Dragon

43

the smell, all of it. He never wanted to eat instant noodle soup again.

It was bad enough filling the Styrofoam cup with hot water in the kitchen and slurping it down quickly so Bertie wouldn’t see him eating it. Arthur had had a feeling that the dragon would have something to say about his diet, and now he was right.

“I can eat at home, it’s okay,” he tried, not sure what the protocol was when your employer wanted to feed you. It had never happened to him before, though he did sometimes get the cancelled orders and mistakes on the nights he delivered food. “I just forgot to bring my lunch.” And eat breakfast, but who was counting?

Bertie must have been, even while hiding out in his study. Or he
could
read minds, but it wasn’t something Arthur could contemplate at the moment.

“Really,” he tried again, putting some force into the words and raising his chin, “you are already being more than fair.”

“Are you frightened that it’s a trick? I thought you better than that, Arthur.”

It stopped him.

“Trick?” Arthur smoothed his hands down his pant legs.

Bertie’s eyes narrowed. “A serpent offering you food doesn’t always have to be anything malevolent.” With his arms crossed, he looked indignant and Arthur suddenly understood what he was referring to. He hadn’t thought about it like that at all and hurried forward to make up for his cultural insensitivity.

“I’d love some fruit,” he started, and then caught the look on Bertie’s face, a bright, mischievous one that he didn’t do a very good job of hiding. It
had
been a trick, only he’d been tricking Arthur into feeling guilty so he would eat. Arthur stopped short and pursed his lips.

It was embarrassing to be caught like that, but he couldn’t seem to feel any spark of anger. “I don’t suppose you have any apples.” He changed his tone as smoothly as he could, and Bertie confirmed that he
had
been playing with Arthur when he snorted a little at Arthur’s reply. “Or figs,” Arthur went on, “or pomegranates for that matter, since there are several theories about what that R. Cooper

44

forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden was, as I’m sure you know.

It’s never identified as an apple in the story.”

“Excellent.” Bertie drew out the word of approval with a sibilant hiss and briefly closed his eyes. He turned the moment they were open again and led the way to the kitchen. “Come with me, precious, and we’ll find you a treat.” ARTHUR had been sent to the bathroom—a small half-bath just down from the kitchen by the laundry room and a side door that probably led outside to the detached garage—to wash up. The bathroom had a dwindling supply of toilet paper but plenty of issues of National Geographic with address labels still stuck to them. The room was also as dusty as the rest of the house, although it consistently smelled of the lemon verbena in the hand soap.

He made a note to use the change Bertie had never asked for to buy more toilet paper since that seemed safer than poking around the rest of the house looking for a supply closet. He had to admit that he didn’t know enough about dragons to know how complete their physical changes were when they shifted to human. It was possible Bertie didn’t use his own bathrooms and so wouldn’t know he was low on toilet paper. It wasn’t something Arthur wanted to ask about, exactly, but he did want to know. Maybe not about that so much as how human Bertie’s body was—not that he had a way to ask that wouldn’t give away the reason for his interest.

He ought to stop thinking that way in any case. It wasn’t going to happen. Arthur had admittedly attracted a fairy once, but it wasn’t like anyone had been beating down his door since then. The few looks of interest thrown his way hadn’t lasted once people realized he’d have no time for them.

He had time now, he realized suddenly while looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and drying his face. But he instantly pushed the thought aside because it wasn’t going to happen. He sighed as he headed back out to the kitchen.

A Boy and His Dragon

45

The kitchen was empty. Arthur took a moment making sure he looked composed before he went searching for his employer. Bertie was in the main room, leaning against the couch with a large bowl of fruit resting on the table behind it. He had a bunch of red grapes in his hand. Of course he did. And of course he was eating them one at a time and licking his lips after each one.

Arthur approached carefully, stifling his second sigh because he should have been comforted to see a dragon eating fruit and not people.
Comforted
, not turned on.

There was a pomegranate in the bowl, surprising him, but he left it where it was, not wanting to make a mess over a rug he couldn’t afford to replace. He avoided the bananas too—no way could he take Bertie’s response to those right now. He chose more grapes and tried not to push too many in his mouth at once when he realized they were seedless.

“God.” It slipped out with the first bite, breathless and edgy. It had been a long time since he had fresh fruit. He really shouldn’t be making noises over some grapes, but they were so good. He popped a few more into his mouth before he forced himself to slow down and eat properly, then he looked over at his employer.

“Poor, hungry Arthur.” Bertie breathed the words without looking at him. He was glaring at the fireplace as though annoyed to find no fire burning inside. “If you won’t feed yourself, you’ll force me to do it.” When Arthur stopped chewing, Bertie glanced over at him. His eyes, though still full and black, lacked their usual glitter.

“Humans are so—” He gestured as if starting to understand something that he didn’t feel like explaining. “—fragile.” Arthur’s eyebrows drew together. He wasn’t fragile. He knew how the world worked better than Bertie did—he was willing to bet on it. The world with money and magic was a lot different than the world without it.

“While we’re on the subject,” Bertie said as though he’d read Arthur’s protest before he could voice it, “there are guest rooms here, Arthur, as well as this couch, which is very comfortable. You are welcome to stay if you find yourself here late. I’ve seen what you call transportation.” He turned up his nose at the very thought of R. Cooper

46

Arthur’s bicycle. “Riding a bicycle isn’t very safe at night even with those reflective lights.”

Arthur bit his tongue before he could point out that he delivered food all over town on that bike: at night, in the rain, on busy streets. He had a feeling that the less Bertie knew about his other remaining job, the better.

“My bike keeps me in shape.” It was an invitation for Bertie to look him up and down, and Bertie did not waste the opportunity.

Arthur fought not to shiver as those eyes took their time traveling from his shoes to his face as if Bertie was imagining what was hidden by Arthur’s clothing. Arthur didn’t think of himself as a strong man—he was too little for that—but he could ride up hills other delivery boys couldn’t manage and could carry most heavy loads without losing his breath.

He closed his hands under Bertie’s stare and saw Bertie’s eyes go back to his forearms. Bertie exhaled and then his lips curved up.

Arthur went on quickly before Bertie could say anything about what he thought of Arthur’s shape.

“I’ll be fine, really. There’s no need to….” The word
worry
stuck in Arthur’s throat. His eyes burned for a moment. “You barely know me,” he whispered, then tossed his head and looked at his feet when Bertie looked like he wanted to say something. This wasn’t a normal job, but Arthur didn’t deserve that, not with part of his intent in coming here so… dishonest. It didn’t matter that he would never take anything from Bertie. The fact that he ever considered it, as if any part of Bertie was for sale, made him feel terrible. “I’ve looked after myself for a long time.”

“Not bloody well enough.” It was the most British Bertie had ever seemed. He sounded like an old colonel. “Now
eat
.” Arthur ate another grape before putting the remains of the bunch down. There were tiny oranges too. He laid two aside to take home later and then discovered almonds under the fruit. He should have asked whether Bertie was a vegetarian dragon or why he got so much fruit, but he didn’t. He crunched almonds and then ate a few more grapes. He wouldn’t say he felt better when he was done, but A Boy and His Dragon

47

his stomach didn’t feel nearly as tight, and the heat of the room didn’t seem so overwhelming.

Bertie watched him, though whenever Arthur glanced back at him, the dragon would slide his attention back to his cold fireplace.

After a couple of missed glances, he coughed and put his arm up along the back of the couch.

“It pains me to say it, but maybe you ought to go home for the day, Arthur.”

Bits of almond stuck in Arthur’s throat. He swallowed them all, not without pain.

“You’re sending me away? I can work harder.” He came around the table to stand in front of the couch only to freeze when he received Bertie’s full attention. He immediately turned to all the books, all his piles, his plans. He hadn’t done nearly enough.

“Arthur.” Bertie’s lips were parted, just a little. “You can always stay.”

“Then why…?” Arthur changed his mind after he asked. First he was told to stay and eat, now Bertie wanted to send him home.

He didn’t want to go. Bertie hadn’t even seen a fraction of what he was capable of yet.

His own desperation to impress wasn’t nearly as confusing as his sudden need to stay. His paycheck hadn’t even been his first thought.

“Do you want me to go?” He didn’t like how quiet his voice got or the puzzled look Bertie shot him, as if he honestly didn’t know how to answer Arthur’s question.

“Of course not,” he rumbled, sounding more like himself as a lizard than as a man. “I simply thought… perhaps… you were overwrought.”

“Overwrought?” Arthur repeated the Victorian-sounding word in disbelief.

“Exhausted?” Bertie changed it quickly. “Weak with hunger?”

“Oh.” Arthur’s breath rushed out of him. Bertie had been worried. His earlier thought returned and hit him hard. “You were R. Cooper

48

worried about me?” He stopped himself from asking more. “Oh,” he said instead. “I just… I just need a break. I don’t need to go home.”

“That’s a relief.” Bertie drummed his fingers along the back of the couch and Arthur caught a whiff of acrid smoke. “You have no idea how irritating it is going against your instincts, even for a little while.”

“I have an idea,” Arthur defended himself without thinking, remembering the fantasies he’d had about Bertie talking to him in that fire-and-smoke voice while he pressed Arthur facedown to the couch cushions and fucked him the way Arthur would beg him to.