Saya and the Dragon Chapter 72: Domestic Bliss

I woke up with my face smushed against sothing warm, leathery, and smugly immovable.

The Dragon's tail.

Again.

I blinked blearily, snorted out a bit of my own drool, and groaned into his scales. "Ugh. Not this again."

His tail was the perfect temperature. Like a sun-baked rock. Except it pulsed slightly, and slled faintly of ozone and ego.

I didn’t rember falling asleep there. But I never rember falling asleep there. Sohow, by so dark pact or stupid instinct, I always ended up curled in that exact spot—curled up like so stray tavern cat that’s claid the comfiest chair in the room.

And above ? Of course. The wing.

His massive, ridiculous, overprotective wing was draped across like a tent built by a lovesick bat.

“Seriously,” I mumbled to no one. "It's like being hugged by a canopy."

He didn’t answer. Just let out a smoky huff. I felt it in his chest, reverberating through my pillow. Haughty bastard was probably pretending to sleep.

I peeked under the edge of the wing. Fire was mostly embers. Sky still dark. Chill in the air. But ? Toasty.

Too toasty.

I kicked one foot free from the ratty old blanket I’d stolen from gods-know-where. The thing slled like a goat had farted on a campfire. But it was mine. Mine to sleep under. Mine to drape. And since I’d been using his tail as a mattress, I’d thrown the blanket over him out of pure fairness.

Balance.

Sharing.

I was a giver.

The blanket had slipped halfway down his back, barely covering one scale. Completely useless. But still.

“You’re welco,” I muttered.

He said nothing. Typical.

I shifted, burrowing deeper into my scaly nest. I could feel his heartbeat—slow, steady, smug.

I should’ve moved. Sat up. Pretended to be strong and independent and all those other things I sotis lie about being.

Instead, I sighed.

And let myself fall back asleep with a smile on my lips.

Disgusting.

Dostic bliss.

But, gods help , it was warm.