The Dragon God

VIII

Ivan woke with a start. Ina was no longer in his grasp. He sat up and snorted in confusion, unable to catch her scent. Where was she? He rolled up onto his feet and grunted, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of his nest.

Sniffing again, Ivan ground his teeth together. He was still in his dragon body. Why hadn't he turned back yet? Was it because they were in so much danger, still? He wished he knew.

There. A smell.

He turned his head, swinging his neck to try and catch it again. There it was. Blood. He turned his entire body. That wasn't Ina's blood. He knew that scent, now. Whose blood was it? It was... familiar. Uncommon, but something he recognized from a long time before.

Moving his massive body around in the nest, he lifted his head again. The ceiling was too high. The floor was too warm. It was sticky. Wet.

The smell of blood overtook every sense, sickening Ivan to the point that he nearly returned to his human shape again. He reeled back, unable to escape the odour as it became stronger.

"I. See. You."

The voice of his father threw Ivan off. He instantly returned to the naked human form that his father so much despised.

Waking in a sweat, Ivan sat up. He touched his face, and then his chest. No blood. No smell of blood. But also... No Ina. He frowned and looked down beside him in the bedding. The indent was there, but Ina was not.

Once the blood rushing in his ears subsided, Ivan could hear water running from the bathroom. Ina was showering. She had obviously figured out the plumbing and had decided that she was filthy enough for one day.

Ivan wondered what she thought she was going to get dressed in afterwards, smirking to himself as the thought invaded the space where the nightmare had been. Ina, naked beneath the water, washing away the sweat and grime of the day before. The depressing realization that she would also be washing away his scent crossed Ivan's mind, but he pushed it away.

"Ina?"

She didn't respond immediately. If she were under the water, it only made sense, Ivan supposed. Still, it would have made him feel much better if Ina had called back.

Rolling from the bed and up onto his feet, Ivan brushed himself off. He could still smell Ina all over him. The memories of their evening before rose to the top of his thoughts, and his cock tried to stir at the thought before shriveling at the reminder that it had all only happened because his father had lost his goddamned mind.

Opening a curtain that hid several cubbies of clothing, Ivan rummaged until he found a sweatshirt that was too small for him. The hoodie was from almost twenty years before, but Ina didn't need to know that it was anything but vintage.

He didn't have anything for her lower half, though. That was both alluring and a disappointment. It wasn't as though Ina could just run into the heat of this mess without pants on. Or something, anyway. Then again, Ivan figured he could go the rest of his life without seeing Ina in pants. He'd be alright with that.

"Ivan?" The water had stopped running. "Do you have any towels?" She didn't look out of the bathroom, only called. Had she heard him after all, or had she heard him moving around after the water had shut off? Ivan cringed. Actually, no... Towels weren't something he kept a supply of there in the nest. He had always just laid out on the bed to dry.

Ina couldn't very well do that now, not with it covered in sweat and cum.

"Er..." He searched through his clothes until he came up with a t-shirt. This would have to do, Ivan thought. Otherwise, it was drip dry, or nothing.