Awake

Chapter Four - Dragons, Breakfast and Lucia

"I know," Lucia rested her head on his chest. "You've got this hero complex. You want to do what's right."

"Is that wrong?"

"No," she smiled. "But I'd prefer it if I didn't die because of it. Unlike you, I'm not quite so prepared to make the final sacrifice. And I'd rather you didn't die either."

Jonathan stroked her hair gently, feeling unaccountably sad.

"I promise I'll try not to die," he told her.

"I suppose that'll have to do."

He laughed. "I'm glad I matter so much to you."

Lucia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He knew from the way her eyelashes fluttered that she was almost asleep.

"Haven't you heard?" she said, sleepily. "I'm a little bit in love."

Jonathan smoothed her hair back from her forehead, heard her breathing shift as she drifted away into sleep, and marvelled at the fortune he had. His parents might be dead, he might be doomed and hunted, he might be living a shadow life covered in battle scars, but he had Lucia and that was the best thing in the world.

  The first time he had seen her, he hadn't realised she was beautiful. That had taken some time to notice, and a long time of talking to her and seeing the patterns in her voice rise and fall. But once he had seen it, and once he knew her, he had tumbled helplessly in love.

Looking at her back then had been like drinking whiskey: it burned his throat and made him dizzy.

  He had been terrified to do anything about it, to venture to approach her with such thoughts. Shy, even, of that bright-eyed girl who lived with the Carter family in their apartment. But now she had accepted him and she was in his arms and he could kiss her.

  Jonathan remembered how she had looked that first time, as he had fumbled his words, rushed them out, begged her to forgive him.

"I would have told you earlier," he had said. "But I didn't want you to think I was taking liberties."

She had lifted her head then, looked straight back at him with those steady grey eyes, smiled a subtle sickle-curve of a smile.

"Take them."

Kissing her had been like nothing he'd ever known. Kissing Lucia...dear gods...

  What did it feel like to kiss Lucia? Like oxygen. Like water. Sometimes, when it was sweet and cool and he was broken and needed fixing. When she kissed him to heal him. Like torrential rain. Like drowning. When he kissed her in fear. When the thought of losing her struck him hard and terrifying.

 His cheeks grew warm as he remembered the best kisses, kissing her in deep and shared desire, kissing him through want of kissing and more kissing and perhaps more than kissing and the feel of everything: her lips, her hands, her hair, her eyelashes, her breath, the curve of her in his hands, the strength of her heartbeat.