So…since I can't fix our situation, I can at least get Mhal glasses.
Mhal has shifted enough times that I'm comfortable with how to handle him. The moment he switches to battle-form, he's confused and disoriented, his thoughts utter chaos. His tail lashes and he fans out his wings, aggression rolling through his mind like a thunderstorm.
I immediately reach out to him.
Mhal, sweetheart. I keep my thoughts loving and most of all, calm. It's me. Remember me?
No. But his thoughts are confused. He leans down, large dragon head moving over me as he takes in my scent. I'm familiar to him, but the piece of the puzzle that answers his questions is eluding him.
It's me. Your Jenny. Your mate.
Jenny. He tastes the name and decides it is a good one. Why are you human?
I chuckle. Always have been, always will. You still love me for it? I reach out and stroke his nose.
I thought I would have a drakoni mate, he admits, and the arrogance that is pure Mhal bleeds through his thoughts. But…I like your scent better.
You like a lot of things I do better, I promise him, all cocky confidence. I press a kiss to his nose. You said you would take me somewhere, my love.
I did? But he gathers me into his claws and cradles me against his chest like I'm the most perfect of treasures. I…must have forgotten.
It's all right. I fill my thoughts with understanding and affection. We all forget sometimes. I send him a mental image of where I want to go. I don't know of a specific eyeglasses store, but there's a strip mall not too far away that might have a likely candidate, and if nothing else, we can fly along the highway and see what we can find.
He brings me to his muzzle and rubs his nose affectionately against my cheek. How is it that I forget you? I do often, do I not?
Every time you shift, I remind him. I have this conversation with him regularly, too. At first it upset me, but now I understand it. It's just another quirk of being drakoni in this world. There's something about the way they think that gets muddied by being here—Rachel said Jurik gets confused too, and it's always worse in battle-form. But he's never aggressive to me and once he remembers me, he's loving and sweet.
I figure there are worse things than a quick reminder of who I am. So I rub against his scales and caress his snout, and fill my thoughts with affection. Can we go flying?
Of course. Are you hungry? Shall I feed you? The confusion in his thoughts fades to something a lot more like protectiveness. What do you need?
I'm fine, I promise him. Let's go flying and see what we can find, shall we?
Mhal takes to the skies, and even though I don't have a fancy saddle like Rachel did, I feel completely and utterly secure. Mhal holds me tight in his blunted claws, his grip firm as he presses me to his chest. He flies where I tell him to go, and then his thoughts lean on mine, seeking approval as we float past one building and then another. There's a great many stores crammed in this section of town, all of them wrecked and weathered, and not a single one an eyeglass store. I'm just about to give up hope when I spot something with potential. The sign is old and faded, but the image of glasses is an obvious one, and I don't have to tell Mhal to go down—he picks it up from my head and acts.
He lowers us to the old abandoned parking lot, next to what was once a juice store and is probably now just a haven for cockroaches. Once he sets me onto my feet, I straighten my clothes and look up at him. Will you turn back to two-legged form for me?
Why?
This is the part we always argue over. He'd rather be in battle-form to protect me, but I can't exactly fit glasses onto a dragon. Because I need you to be my size. I cup my breasts and tease the nipples enticingly under his gaze. Watching his eyes go from a mixture of black-and-gold to almost completely gold turns me on, and my nipples harden, rubbing against the fabric of my dress.
The moment my arousal touches the air, Mhal shifts. A breath later, he pulls me against him, his mouth hungry over mine, his hand moving to my breasts. Tease. My beautiful, teasing mate.
I kiss him back, then force myself to pull away. "Glasses first," I promise him, holding out my hand. "Then we can make love."
He bites back a groan of frustration, but takes the hand I offer him. You are far too stubborn.
I just laugh, because if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black, what is?