The Cambion's Hoard

The sun warmed my skin; it was a perfect day for sunbathing. Henson and Biggs had gone to see Henson’s parents. Thatcher was cleaning up the kitchen from their party. They had started taking care of things more quickly since I moved in. Their guests also started cleaning up after themselves, sort of. The cans at least made it into the trash.

Wallace was roaming in the garden, and I could hear Patricia singing to him. Living at St Phillips’s Church and School for the Wayward was one of my best decisions. I didn’t feel out of place like I did at school, surrounded by people. Others were better than people, less judgmental, and more welcoming overall.

The screen door screeched in its railing. I turned to see who had come out. I knew it would be Thatcher but wasn’t sure when the others would be home. My sunglasses gave me the perfect excuse to look him up and down.

He’d switched to a pair of bright orange swim trunks from his cleaning clothes. His skin was golden but browner than his scales. When he walked across the yard, his movements held a predatory edge. My whole body reacted to it. I liked knowing Thatcher was my mate. Knowing that someone was going to be with me, wanted me, was a wonderful feeling.

Thatcher dipped into the pool and dived below. He glided across the bottom, and as he moved, I could tell he had partially shifted. Then, as he rose out of the water, I swore my heart stopped. His scales glistened with moisture and showed like golden coins in the sun. His patterning accentuated his muscles’ shape. He was beautiful.

“Like what you see, Miss?” His smile was cocky.

I tapped my fingers against my throat and slid them downward. Thatcher watched as I moved. “Very much.”

Holding my hand out, I beckoned him to me. He moved quickly and reclined next to me in the grass. Even being so close, he waited for permission to interact. I sat up and leaned in very carefully.

I kept myself far enough back that I could make eye contact. Then, turning my head, I slyly looked up at him. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “You listen so well, Thatch. I very much enjoy how good of a boy you are.”

A slight whimper escaped his throat and his eyes heated. I sat up but ensured that our spacing was enough that I wasn’t touching him.

“Why do you listen so well?” I ran a finger across his chin, and his body swayed.

“It’s my responsibility to please you. If I please you well, I get rewarded with extra touching.” His eyes slit, and his lips stayed parted.

Fuck. I crawled into Thatcher’s lap, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist. Sometimes I wasn’t sure I was the one in control. He would do the littlest things, and they would make me reach for him.

“Don’t you want to hold me back?” I shifted my hips against his lap.

Thatcher groaned and wrapped his arms around me. “Rose.”

He squeezed me tightly and kissed my neck. I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him to me. In a split second, my emotions went from heated to longing. The weight in my chest was unexpected, to say the least. I choked back a sob, and Thatcher stilled.

I pressed my head to Thatcher’s. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening. One second, I was fine, I wanted you to touch me, and now, I just want to hold you. So much so that it hurts. I can’t squeeze you tight enough.”

Thatcher ran his hands down my hair and kissed my forehead. “It’s ok. Let’s work through it.”

He pulled back, adjusting my body so he could see my face better. Thatcher tucked the hair behind my ears. “Ok, what triggered you? Was it me touching you or our closeness in general?”

Placing my hands on his chest, I rubbed the scales on his collar bones. I could feel my brow furrow in contemplation. “Neither. It’s like I could feel the need between us. The demand to be consumed, not in lust but something else. A deep unknown longing of some sort. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Thatcher rubbed slow circles on the small of my back. He took deep, slow breaths, and I found myself trying to match them. “I think it may be the mate bond. I know it’s different for every Other that takes mates. But the base is all the same, being inherently in tune with your mate.

“Like how you know I’m going to love you one day. Giving you everything you need in the whole world. I think you felt how badly I’ve longed for a mate. How much I want you, not just for sex, but everything. I’m sorry this is so overwhelming.”

“Henson wasn’t ever enough?” I couldn’t help but ask.

He rubbed the back of my head and kissed my forehead. “No. Some dragons mate to males. I think Biggs and Henson are mated. Though I don’t think that happened until you showed up. That’s a whole different theory for another time.

“I’ve needed someone, wanted someone. Henson never filled the ache I had. At least I thought he filled that ache until I realized you were mine.”

I traced his lips with my thumb. “This is so confusing.”

“Maybe you should talk to Patti. She has a way of explaining things in a way that makes sense. I know I want you. I know why I want you. But you can’t explain why you want me. Can’t make it make sense to yourself.” He took my hand in his and kissed it.

“I’ll do that.”

My heart and head were in a tailspin; if I didn’t straighten out, I’d crash and burn.