Page 8 of Saving Her Dragon

By the time the scent of rich, dark coffee drifted up from the kitchen, a quiet peace had settled within him. Pushing his legs into his favorite, and most worn, pair of jeans, he had just walked out of the closet when Sydney appeared with two mugs.

Handing one to Garrett, she chuckled, “Jet fuel for every occasion, sir.”

“You know it, ma’am.”

Wrapping both hands around the ceramic warmth, he took a slow sip, letting the heat sink deep into his chest. To Garrett, this coffee wasn't just a morning beverage anymore. It was daylight. It was a shield against the Darkness.

It was tangible proof of safety and home… Of Sydney.

"Careful," she whispered, bumping her shoulder playfully against his arm. "If you stare at that coffee any harder, it might just evaporate into thin air."

"I am merely appreciating the logistics of a well-made cup of java," he replied dryly, earning another bright smile from his Mate before she lost the battle and burst out laughing.

Taking another drink, his eyes never left hers. Looking over the rim of the mug, he thanked the Universe for the gift of his Mate. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame…

With no fear of ever getting burnt.

“No, she will never hurt either of us,” Han matter-of-factly stated. “I know that you know, but I felt it necessary to add my two cents.”

“Some things never change.”

“Nor should they.”

Smiling as he set the mug down, Garrett moved to stretch his arms, and a sharp ache flared across his back. He winced slightly, his shoulders tightening.

“Are you okay?” Sydney immediately asked. Before he could respond, she had crossed the room, put her mug next to his, and was rubbing his shoulders like a practiced masseuse.

“Yeah…” He paused. “I’m okay. I just…”

“You just what?” His Mate persisted, the tone of her voice leaving no room for him to hem and haw.

“Well, my muscles are… they’re heavy.”

“Heavy?” She asked, concentrating on a knot in the muscles of his right shoulder. “Like you were lifting weights or working out? That kind of heavy?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “That’s exactly it. It feels like I have weights on my ankles and my hands are stiff.” Holding out his left hand, he opened and closed it several times. “My joints are tight. They burn and tingle when I move. I just…”

Instinctively, his mind flared with an old, defensive panic. His body braced for the phantom pain of cold chains and rough stone. The memory of the acrid stench of Chimera ash tickled the inside of his nose. He was falling. It was…”

“Just breathe, Garrett. You got this. Inhale… Count to three… Exhale.”

Sydney’s voice cut through the panic. Where the Darkness had been descending, her Light scared it away.

Doing as she instructed, he breathed through the dread and fear of impending doom. Inhaling for the third time, he realized the sensation had flipped. It was entirely different– not the agonizing, tearing trauma of torture.

This was exactly as Sydney had described. It was the dull, deep throb of muscles that had been pushed to their absolute limits. It had to be the aftermath of yesterday's physical therapy. That was the only explanation that made any sense.

“It’s got to be all those little muscle fibers threading themselves back together.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Acheson?” Syd chuckled, massaging down his left arm.

“Why, yes. Yes, it is,” he snickered, loving the feel of her hands and the love and healing he felt pouring through their Mating Bond.

“The physical therapist said it would take a while, even with my kicked-up metabolism and Magic, and I guess that’s what it is.”

“Sounds about right to me,” Sydney agreed. “I mean, my mom, Sam, is a doctor, and so is my Aunt Charlie, but I haven’t been around them for a while. The only healing I really know anything about is what Shavon taught me.”

“That is the good stuff,” he acknowledged. “Shavon is said to be the best at many things, especially Dragonkin.”