Chapter 25 25- Never Let Him Borrow Your Pen
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Well. That was… Satisfying. Lexi isn’t stupid. Not even a little. She knows exactly what I’m doing. She understands that I’m treating her differently, that I’m singling her out, that gifts from my hoard are not casual gestures. Dragons don’t give away treasure without reason, and she’s clever enough to see that, even if she doesn’t fully understand why yet. And despite all that… She hasn’t confronted me about
- it. She hasn’t demanded explanations or drawn boundaries or backed away to reassess the situation like a normal, sensible person might.
More importantly, she hasn’t run. She hasn’t created distance. She hasn’t tried to return the gifts in a way that actually ends the
exchange. Instead she negotiated. She agreed to borrowing, wearing… Temporary ownership. A compromise. That ALONE tells me more
about her than any of the questions I’ve asked so far. She is FASCINATING. And not just because I still haven’t identified what kind of
shifter she is, though that mystery alone would have been enough to hold my attention. No, it’s the way she treats me. The way she interacts with me like I am a person, not a threat to be avoided or a novelty to be bragged about. I’ve met thrill seekers before. People who want to say they talked to a dragon, stood near one, provoked one. They treat me like an experience. A story. Something to survive and then recount later. They aren’t afraid, but not because they’re brave. because they don’t understand the danger. Lexi does. That’s the part that matters. She knows the risks. She knows enough about what dragons are capable of. Hell, she outright asked me. She’s seen how people react to me. She’s intelligent enough to connect cause and effect, to understand that associating with me is not the easiest or safest path she could take here. And she chooses it anyway. Not blindly. Not recklessly. She hesitates. I see it. I see the brief pauses, the way her eyes widen when I’m too blunt, when my selfishness or violence slips too close to the surface. She is afraid, but only of real things. Of actual consequences. Not of children’s stories or exaggerated legends meant to scare people into compliance. She weighs that fear, each and every time. And then she stays. Which tells me that she has decided my presence, my attention, me.. That I am worth it. THAT is what truly fascinates me. I am not a good person. I know that. I’ve never pretended otherwise. I like what I like, and I take what I want. I don’t burn villages or slaughter people indiscriminately, not because of morality, but because it’s inefficient. Messy. Not worth the effort or the consequences. I don’t go out of my way for others. The world has learned to move aside for me instead. Lexi didn’t. She chose the most inconvenient option available to her. Associating with me guarantees difficulty. Social isolation. Scrutiny. Risk. If she were selfish, truly selfish, she would have done what everyone else does, kept her head down, made safe friends, coasted through the academy without friction. It could have been easy for her. Instead, she chose me. And the irony is that the person who benefits most from that choice is not her. It’s me. I enjoy her company. Genuinely. Her questions, her humour, the way she challenges things without challenging me. The way she listens. The way she trusts, carefully, deliberately, but completely once she decides. Which is why it amuses me every time she calls me nice or sweet. I am neither. If I help her, it is because it benefits me to do so. If I comfort her, it is because I want her to be calm if I give her treasure, it is because I want to mark her as mine in a way that feels acceptable to her. It 1 protect her, it is because I do not tolerate threats to things I value. And I value her. Not in a soft, selfless way. Not in a way that asks nothing in return. want her close I want her to be safe. I want her to be happy with me. Because it she is happy, she won’t leave. And if she doesn’t leave, i can continue to keep her near, continue to study her, enjoy her, protect her, and claim her presence as part of my life. I want her to like me, to care for me, because I want her The issue is, I don’t understand her I don’t know WHY she has decided that she wants to be around me But I DO know that there are things I can do to motivate her to want to stay So no Lam not kind I am not supet Every interaction I have with her is a choice A calculation A deliberate step toward a goal And that goal is simple, to keep Lesi by my side for as long as possible, and to guard her like the rare, precious treasure that she is
I settle down at my desk and immediately notice that it’s already starting to feel Crowded Nut cluttered in the way boumans mean it. messy, disorganised, useless. No. Everything here has a reason for being where it is Every object has been chosen. Not because it is valuable in the conventional sense, but because something about it pleased me enough to keep it the boarding instinct has a way of creeping into everything if you don’t watch it. There are stones lined neatly along the edge of the desk, collected from the courtyard earlier in the day. Smooth ones. Heavy for their size. The kind that sit properly in the pale grounding reassuring. I don’t know why I like them. I never do. I just know when something feels right to keep When leaving it behind would feel wrong. There are other things too. Small, incidental items. A fulded scrap of parchment with an interesting texture: A pressed leaf that caught my attention for reasons I
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Chapter 25 25- Never Let Him Borrow Your Pen
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didn’t bother interrogating. And a pen. A particularly shiny pen someone left behind in a classroom. I turn it slowly between my fingers, thumb brushing over the cool, polished metal. It catches the light just enough to be distracting. I could have returned it. Probably should have. Instead, it’s here now, placed carefully within reach. Mine. I set it down only long enough to pull another sheet of paper from the desk drawer and begin writing… Lexi. Her name appears at the top of the page, written more carefully than anything else. Below it, I start listing observations. Not impressions, those are unreliable. Facts. Answers she’s given me. Reactions I’ve seen. Patterns, inconsistencies, notable absences. Her preferences. Her tolerances. Her fears, real ones, not imagined. The things she doesn’t react to at all. I write quickly, efficiently, pages filling faster than I expect. Every question I’ve asked her so far is recorded, along with her exact answers. I cross–reference them with the book about shifter types, flipping between pages, striking through possibilities that no longer fit. Pack creatures, unlikely. Highly territorial species, unlikely. Obligate carnivores, ruled out. Aquatic, ruled out. Nocturnal, doubtful. And yet… She doesn’t fit cleanly anywhere. Not yet. That’s the problem. And the appeal. I keep writing, the pen gliding smoothly over the page. This is a good pen. My desk grows more crowded as the stack of filled paper increases, each page carefully aligned, ordered. This isn’t idle curiosity. This is consumption. I’m deep enough into it now that I barely notice the passage of time. I am absolutely absorbed. More than she realises. More than I WANT her to realise. If Lexi knew the extent of it, how thoroughly I’m cataloguing her, analysing her, building theories around her existence… I suspect it would unsettle her. She’s perceptive enough to sense obsession when it’s directed at her, even if she doesn’t always recognise it for what it is. So I keep this part to myself. I’m not lying. She knows I’m investigating. She gave her consent even. But I don’t think she needs to see it all at once. And I am honest with myself about why I’m doing this. The first reason is simple, it’s a riddle. An unsolved puzzle that refuses to yield to easy answers. Dragons are drawn to riddles the way other creatures are drawn to comfort or safety. It’s instinctive. I don’t question it any more than I question my need for warmth or space or treasure. Lexi is a mystery, and I want the satisfaction of solving her. The second reason is more practical. Not knowing what she is frightens her. She doesn’t say it outright, but I see it in the tension she carries, the way her thoughts circle back to the same unanswered question. The uncertainty gnaws at her. It makes her feel unmoored, unsafe in her own skin. I don’t like that. Again, it’s not because of altruism. Not because I’m kind. Because if I can solve this, if I can hand her an answer, clarity, certainty, then she will associate that relief with me. She will trust me more. Rely on me more. Want me near. It will give her another reason to stay. So I keep writing. Pages and pages of notes. Observations. Hypotheses. Eliminations. Connections that might mean nothing, or might mean everything. The mystery deepens, and with it, my interest sharpens. I am going to solve this, because it will make Lexi happy.
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Great chapter!!
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
