Chapter 115: Alone Time with Zhao Yan

The dragon landed. The cubs tumbled off his back, their fur windswept, their faces bright, their voices carrying across the courtyard.

“Again! Again! Can we go again?” Yòu Lín was bouncing.

Ruì Xuě was nodding, his usual quiet gone, his eyes still wide with wonder. “That was—that was—”

“The best thing ever!” Yòu Lín finished.

Cāng Jì shifted back to his human form. His hair was a disaster. His robes were rumpled. He looked like he had been dragged through several cloud banks and thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.

He was still smiling when he saw the grandmothers.

The smile vanished.

“Gū Gū,” he said. “Wēn Jìng. I can explain.”

Gū Gū picked up her stick.

“You took them flying,” she said.

“I was—they were—there was a situation.”

“A situation.”

“In the tunnels. They were running. From something. I needed to—”

“You took them flying.”

Cāng Jì nodded reluctantly. “Yes.”

“Without asking.”

“I was going to ask! I was—”

“Without permission.”

“The situation required immediate—”

Gū Gū raised her stick.

Cāng Jì flinched.

Yòu Lín, who had been watching the exchange with growing delight, tugged on Gū Gū’s sleeve. “Grandma. Grandma. It was my fault. I wanted to see the bouncy rocks. Ruì Xuě didn’t want to go. I made him. And then there was a dragon who was mean and Uncle Sparkles saved us and then he took us flying and it was the BEST and—”

Gū Gū looked at her grandson. At his windswept fur. At his bright, happy face. At the way he was still bouncing, still full of the joy of the sky.

She lowered her stick.

“You’re not in trouble,” she told Yòu Lín. She turned to Cāng Jì. “You are.”

“But—”

“You took them flying. Without telling anyone. Without asking. Without considering that their mother might have something to say about it.”

Cāng Jì’s face went pale. “You’re not going to tell Bai Yue.”

“I’m not going to tell her.”

Relief flooded his features.

“I’m going to let Yòu Lín tell her.”

The relief vanished.

“At dinner,” Gū Gū continued, savoring every word. “In front of everyone. So she can hear, from her son’s own mouth, how you took him flying without permission after he wandered into dangerous tunnels and was chased by an angry dragon.”

Cāng Jì groaned.

Yòu Lín tugged on Gū Gū’s sleeve again. “Does this mean I get to tell the story at dinner? The whole story? With the running and the screaming and the part where Uncle Sparkles stood in front of us and looked really scary?”

“Yes.”

“And the flying part?”

“Especially the flying part.”

Yòu Lín cheered.

Cāng Jì buried his face in his hands.

~

Bai Yue stood under the waterfall and let the hot water pound the tension out of her shoulders.

The dragon baths were absurd. That was the only word for them. A cave of smooth black stone, lit by crystals that pulsed with soft, warm light.

Steam rose from a pool so large it could have fit the entire Thousand Fang village. Water fell from somewhere high above, hot and mineral-rich, smelling of sulfur and something ancient.

She had been in there for twenty minutes. She was planning to stay for twenty more.

The day had been long.

Fēng Líng’s breakfast had been lovely, genuinely lovely, but Bai Yue’s social battery was drained. She had smiled. She had made friends. She had watched her daughter charm another dragon into soft-eyed devotion.

Now she wanted to be alone.

The water was perfect. Hot enough to make her muscles loosen, to make her thoughts go soft and fuzzy around the edges. She leaned her head back against the smooth stone edge and closed her eyes.

She did not hear the footsteps.

She did not hear the soft rustle of fabric being discarded.

She did not hear the gentle splash of someone entering the water.

She did feel the warm hands that slid around her waist.

Bai Yue’s eyes snapped open. She opened her mouth to scream—

A familiar hand clamped over her mouth.

“Shhh,” Zhāo Yàn purred against her ear. “Do you want the entire mountain to hear you?”

She bit his palm.

He yelped, jerking his hand back. “That hurt!”

“Good.” She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move. His arms were still around her waist, his body pressed against her back, and the water was doing something treacherous to her ability to think clearly. “Zhāo Yàn. I am showering. Alone. Get out.”

“You’re always alone lately.” His voice was a low rumble against her neck. “The baby. The cubs. The new dragon friends. I never see you anymore.”

“You saw me this morning.”

“That was six hours ago. I counted.”

“You counted?”

“I always count.” His lips brushed the curve of her shoulder. “Sixteen days, five hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-seven seconds since I last had you to myself. It’s been unbearable.”

Bai Yue rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“It’s romantic.”

“It’s obsessive.”

“Is there a difference?”

She opened her mouth to argue. He chose that moment to press a kiss to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, and her argument died in her throat.

“Zhāo Yàn,” she managed, her stomach pooling with heat.

“Hmm?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

His hands moved to her sides, pulling her closer. “The baby is with the Burning Sky. The cubs are with the grandmothers. The husbands are…..elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“Hán Shān is at the council meeting. Yàn Shū is cataloguing the library. And I am here.” His lips traced the line of her jaw. “With my mate. Who I have not properly kissed in how many days?”

“Stop counting.”

“Make me.”

She turned in his arms. The water swirled around them, hot and heavy with steam. His hair was wet, plastered to his face, and his eyes were dark.

“I missed you,” he said, and his voice was soft now.

“You saw me this morning.”

“I saw you across a table. With a dragon princess. And three grandmothers. And a baby who demands constant attention.” He cupped her face in his hands. “That’s not seeing you. This is seeing you.”

His thumb traced her cheekbone. Her lips.

“I have missed the taste of my mate’s lips,” he murmured.

He kissed her.

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