A Boy and His Dragon (3 page)

It turned Arthur’s stomach and made him shake, but it let him take his eyes off the man in front of him and focus on the questions he was asking.

“You have transportation? Do you mind smoke? Can you type quickly, use a computer?” Dr. Jones turned back in time for Arthur’s answer.

Arthur nodded to all of them, though he thought of his bicycle apprehensively and decided not to mention that he didn’t own a car until he was asked directly. He was getting good at indirect lies…

too good, really.

He stayed where he was and let the doctor circle slowly and turn back around to fully face him.

“What’s your favorite period in history?” That was a new one. Arthur let himself frown as he repeated the question to buy time. But he honestly couldn’t say. His interests truly
were
varied, and the courtly romances and adventures of the Middle Ages written to describe earlier periods were too embarrassing to admit to. He hesitated and Dr. Jones added to his question.

“Well, when you minored in history, what was your thesis on?”

Arthur jumped. “The Wars of the Roses.” He glanced up and then stared down at his feet, trying to figure out the point of the question. Dr. Jones pressed him for more.

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“Really? Bloody Old England? Do go on, Arthur.”

“With… uh… with what?” It wasn’t that he couldn’t keep up; he just couldn’t see how this was relevant.

“Lancaster or York?”

The question was so distant it echoed, and Arthur turned, not certain when Dr. Jones had left the room. Arthur had thought he was coming closer, but he must have gone into another room, maybe the kitchen that Arthur could see part of through one open door.

“Lancaster.” He shouldn’t have hesitated at the answer. He turned again at the flash of motion to one side and noticed the second door coming out of the kitchen as Dr. Jones emerged from it.

His cigarette was gone.

“Why? Because they win?”

Dr. Jones was not an old dragon. Some of them lived to be a hundred. He appeared to be in his thirties, but his use of the present tense to describe a historical event was disconcerting, as if he was older than he looked and had lived it. That wasn’t possible; even for a fairy, that would be ancient.

“No, I….” Arthur squeezed his eyes shut at the embarrassing truth and then opened them wide when he realized he had to keep an eye on the dragon. It was too late. Dr. Jones was close to him again and watching him with an intent expression. It only got more so when Arthur tried to wet his lips. “When I was kid… I liked stories about King Arthur.”

Dr. Jones beamed at him, hopping on the balls of his feet in clear delight.

“Of
course
you did. And?”

Arthur knew he ought to shut up before he revealed all of his nerdiness and what a lonely kid he’d obviously been. He really should. But Dr. Jones settled into his space, hot and bare chested and interested, and his heart started pounding.

“The House of Lancaster had a red rose but also a red dragon as their emblem.” There was nothing more arrogant than explaining something to someone who probably already knew all about it, but Dr. Jones’s gaze didn’t waver, not even when Arthur realized he was A Boy and His Dragon

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talking about dragons to a Being and dragon historian. “Because they were Welsh, who are the People of the Red Dragon. And in some stories, the red dragon myth was a foretelling of the existence of Arthur.
King
Arthur I mean, not me. Obviously.” He could not have sounded like a bigger dork.

Dr. Jones closed his eyes and sighed so deeply that his shoulders moved with it. When he reopened his eyes, Arthur blinked. A reptile, or something like a reptile, shouldn’t have a gaze so hot. There was warmth coming from Dr. Jones too, radiating across the small space between them as if he wasn’t cold-blooded at all.

“You truly are a pearl,” Dr. Jones declared at last, quiet and purposeful.

“What?” Arthur took a step back only to stare with stinging eyes.

“You,” the voice rumbled slowly for his benefit, “are a
pearl
, Arthur.”

Arthur’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. No one said things like that, and if they did, they didn’t say things like that to him, not since his parents had been alive. His social life was nonexistent. With two jobs and school and his sister, it had had to be, but back when he had a social life, he’d never heard anything like that either. There was nothing pearl-like about him.

He suddenly remembered why he was there and dropped his head.

“Does that mean I’m hired?” he asked at last.

“Oh yes.” Dr. Jones nodded. After a pause, Arthur dared a look up. Dr. Jones seemed pleased with himself, but his watchful stare was not as reassuring as it should have been. Arthur started to speak, then couldn’t think of what to say. He had the job, which meant regular hours in a safe, warm place—
if
a dragon’s lair could be said to be safe; it was definitely warm—with more than decent pay. And he would be close to the university again, and even closer to a chance to finally get ahead of the financial mess he was in.

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He had the job, Arthur thought again, and then went weak. He put a hand on the table to stay on his feet and ignored the concerned way the doctor leaned in his direction. Arthur almost smiled at him, then tossed his head, because he shouldn’t smile, not with his reasons for being here.

He straightened.

“Thank you. I will do my very best work for you.” He felt even hotter at how serious, how formal, he was, but held still as he watched the arrested expression come and go in shining dragon’s eyes.

Dr. Jones’s mouth turned up, leaving Arthur to internally wriggle in humiliation at how obviously the myths of dragons were going to his head if he was pledging himself like a knight at a tournament.

“I’ll need you several days a week,” Dr. Jones said.

Arthur hadn’t thought he could make a bigger fool of himself.

No amount of frowning could hide the way his eyes went wide to hear those words or disguise what he’d obviously been thinking about.

“And some of your nights too, I’m afraid.” Dr. Jones said it on purpose. He had to have. Arthur kept his face as blank as he could.

Dr. Jones exhaled in obvious disappointment and went on. “I’m afraid I can’t tell when something will strike me, and in the meantime, there’s always something to be done.”

“You’re writing a book.” It was like Arthur had forgotten everything he knew once he’d walked in here. Everything but bits of feudal lore and fairy tales.

“Yes, Arthur, very good. I’m writing a book.” In his place, Arthur might have been far more condescending. “It’s why I need an assistant. So you will be here tomorrow?” He didn’t say a thing about a background check. Arthur didn’t glance around for the treasure, but this was a dragon: naturally there had to be treasure here somewhere. Of course, dragons were supposed to be hard to fool. Perhaps background checks didn’t matter when dragons could peer into souls.

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Arthur bit his lip and raised his head and only then realized that Dr. Jones was still talking to him, stepping close with burning heat and a cleansing brace of herbal scent to exhale a question with breath so warm that Arthur shivered when it hit his skin.

“Unless I can persuade you to stay a little longer?” He was too much, too close, and dangerous and strange, and Arthur needed this too much to risk it even for someone so… incredibly fucking sexy.

He did his best to try to convince his legs to carry him away and failed when Dr. Jones continued. “I could offer you my take on what lengths those Woodvilles might get to if given the chance.” At least it let him speak.

“What?” It took Arthur way too long to remember the Woodvilles’ role in the Wars of the Roses. At this rate, Dr. Jones was going to regret hiring him any second now.
Breathe
, Arthur told himself. He needed to breathe, and to do that he needed cool, fresh air free of sexy, smoky dragons and their sexy, smoky scent. “I…

have to go. I have work.”

He always had work. It wasn’t a total lie.

Dr. Jones pulled back with a pout. A
pout
. “Whatever else you’re doing, I’m afraid you aren’t going to be able to keep it for long if you’re mine.”

Arthur swung a look over to him. Dr. Jones licked the corner of his mouth in a way that did not disguise his smile. “I mean, if you work for me.” He shrugged in a half apology for his innuendo or joke or whatever it had been, and Arthur realized that he was glaring. At his dragon employer. But he couldn’t seem to stop. In fact, his glare only grew fiercer at the man’s next words, which revealed how not sorry he actually was. “I’m the demanding, possessive type.”

Arthur had been planning on quitting his day job anyway, but he was going to keep his weekend job of delivering Chinese on his bike. He didn’t say any of that though, because he wasn’t risking anything at this point. When Dr. Jones stared at him for another moment and then took a step back to wave him toward the door, a wave Arthur could only describe as regretful, he almost reconsidered his decision.

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Then his instincts kicked in and he moved toward the door, keeping his back to the wall and his eyes on the smiling predator in front of him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dr. Jones.”

“Philbert, Arthur. Philbert. Or Bertie or Jones, to my friends.”
Jones
. It was perfect. Arthur stumbled but righted himself and concentrated on work, the job. The job that could answer his prayers.
Jones
, his mind repeated anyway, but then slid on to
Bertie
.

It was adorable. There was no other word.

Adorable. Arthur had the faintest thought that maybe the threat from dragons wasn’t at all about being eaten, not with his mind holding onto the soft little nickname like it was made of gold.

Bertie.
He could almost hear himself saying it between kisses.

“I’ll be here early,” he promised too loudly, trying not to think of kissing his new boss, not now, not ever while he was in this house, and saw Dr. Jones open his mouth, as though the very air or Arthur himself was delicious to him, delicious and edible.

“I look forward to it,” he called back as Arthur hurriedly ducked away. His voice was so light that Arthur could have imagined it, but somehow he didn’t think so. Especially when the words seemed to follow him home.

HE WAS worried about rain but, though the skies had threatened it, he made it back across town to his apartment just as the first sprinkles were starting to fall. The approaching wet winter was going to be a problem now that he was working farther away, but it was something for him to worry about later.

For now he had a job, a good job. He almost couldn’t believe it. Since dropping out of school, taking his sabbatical, he’d worked two, sometimes three part-time jobs, anything he could to keep the apartment and put food on the table, but fighting for jobs with younger kids in a college town, kids who had cars and no competing work schedules, had been starting to take its toll. His paychecks had A Boy and His Dragon

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been getting smaller, his hours reduced. Sleep was something he fantasized about.

Finally, that might change. Arthur carried his bike up the stairs with him, taking the back way by the dumpsters because Mr. Cruz, nice though he was, almost never went there and rent was due in a few days, and that was a conversation Arthur didn’t want to have today. Not with his blood pumping and his cheeks hot despite the chill in the air and the growl in his stomach that he was almost used to.

It was amazing he hadn’t gotten hit by a car; the way his thoughts were spinning, he hadn’t been paying much attention to traffic. The moment he could think calmly, he was going to remember all his near misses, but for now he smiled as he unlocked the door and made sure to make plenty of noise to let his sister know he was home.

Kate was in the small kitchen, and Arthur only smiled wider to see her dressed and attempting to make dinner. The pot of boiling water meant noodles and not their other staples, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or mac and cheese, and though Arthur would have been happy to never ever smell another MSG-laden bowl of instant noodles again, his stomach rumbled at the thought of a hot meal.

Skimping on food was one of the few ways they could save money, and it wasn’t too bad if he let himself get hungry enough that it all seemed delicious.

There was a smile on Kate’s face, or a hint of one. She never smiled with her mouth as much as her eyes. They were the same blue as Arthur’s, but Kate plucked her eyebrows to make them even thinner, though they were usually slanted downward in an uncertain frown. The steam made her pink. Arthur took off his helmet and left it hanging from the handlebar of his bike while he took in her outfit.

There were very few clothes Kate owned that could be considered respectable. Her wilder, younger days weren’t that far behind her, and she hadn’t had the energy or the money to buy new clothes since she’d come to live with him. What she had on might be her best: clean jeans, low heels, a smart blazer.

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“You went out?” He couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. The apartment was clean, dinner was on the stove, and Kate had gone out. Even if he hadn’t found a job, this would have been a good day.

“There was an ad for a weekend shift at that sex shop downtown.” Kate rolled a shoulder nervously. “I don’t think they’re going to want anyone who has to check ‘yes’ when asked if they’ve ever been arrested for something. But I thought I should try.” She was dismissive, trying to play it off, but Arthur came forward to wrap her up in a hug. He couldn’t help it. Kate was about average height for a girl, and Arthur topped her by an inch or two, but the way she reacted to the embrace made her seem tiny and fragile. She stiffened, the way she still did sometimes around displays of emotion, but then relaxed. She didn’t hug him back, but Arthur heard her swallow.

“How did you get there?” He pulled back after a second to give her space and let her regain control of the situation, and she shrugged again, though she was too tense to be nonchalant.