A Kind of Magic

Thirty-Seven

They trudged through the falling rain and flooded streets, Peregrine and Fiona leading the group to the Bed and Breakfast the dragon shifter knew.

The place wasn't big, but luckily, just as he had predicted, it wasn't full and they were given two rooms situated next to each other-- one for Fiona, her mother, Freddie and Gollum, the other for the three men.

"The breakfast is served from seven to ten," the receptionist informed them as she passed them the keys. "And should you feel peckish tonight," the middle-aged woman added, smiling at Freddie, "make mummy take you into the breakfast room any time. There's always warm tea and hot chocolate, and some bread and biscuits. Tonight we have a cake, too. Just help yourselves, the weather is too bad to go to eat out."

"Thank you," Fiona told the woman, surprised by her friendliness. People she normally met in London weren't so kind. They were all busy and stressed and hardly ever smiled... and she had been one of them until these three men appeared in her life three days ago.

She didn't realise she was staring at Peregrine until he raised his eyebrows at her in a silent enquiry when she didn't move after the others had walked towards the staircase, which led to the upper floors.

"Nothing," she muttered, her breath catching when his hand closed around hers as if he couldn't prevent it, and she let him lead her upstairs.

"Good night, Bella," he murmured upon reaching the top.

They stopped a few steps away from the two rooms whose open doors, expecting their last visitors, spilt light and noise of unpacking into the dimly lit corridor.

"Goodnight, Peregrine," she whispered in reply, closing her eyes and tilting her face up, tempting him, when she felt his hand closing tighter around hers instead of letting go.

Goodness, he wished to kiss her, finally, to feel those plump, inviting lips mould into his, giving way, parting for him... A low growl of frustration escaped him when he reminded himself that he couldn't do it.

She heard it, one corner of those rosy, shiny lips tugged up in reply, but she didn't move, that face, so kissable, was still revolved towards his, for him to do whatever he pleased...

He pushed her against the wall as he planted his hands on her waist firmly, feeling her breath hitch and her heart starting to race when he pressed his body flush against her, unable to stop himself. She was unresistable, she was playing with fire, did she have any idea of what she was doing to him? And yet, she wasn't a woman who would be happy with the little he could give her. She would want a promise of a future which he wished with all his heart he could give her... But that was impossible.

He was half expecting her to come to her senses finally, push him away, and run into her room... She didn't. With a deep sigh, he pushed himself away from her and kissed her on her forehead, then dashed into his room, damp cloak billowing in swirls around his legs like black smoke in the rain, without another word.

"You took your time, dragon," Leodhais said.

The elf scowled at Peregrine as he entered their room, shut the door, and leaned against it for support. Bella was making him feel... weak, and soft, and vulnerable. But she was also making him feel so many other sensations no other woman before her did... A vague, content smile played on his lips as he raised his head to confront the annoying elf.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" he challenged, walking towards the last free bed, situated closest to the door.

"There are many things we need to discuss, we have hardly ever spoken since we found Alaric's daughter," Leodhais replied, coming to stand at the foot of the bed where Peregrine sat, tall, straight-shouldered and serious.