@firemxdeflesh
Rowan was ravenous and the enticing smell that was coming from the sizzling steaks was making him even more impatient for a bite than usual. His hair was damp from his shower, steam still wafting out of the bathroom even though he’d turned off the water ten minutes ago. The doors to the terrace were wide open, and he squinted in the dazzling light dancing off his windows from the sinking sun as he flipped the meat on the other side.
He took an unsatisfactory sip of beer as he waited by the grill and when the doorbell rang, he grabbed his phone, rather than turn to answer it. There were no messages unceremoniously announcing someone was dropping by, and he swore under his breath as he tossed the mobile on the counter, before heading for the front hall.
Mind still on his food, he opened the door without the slightest consideration about who might be waiting on the other side and later he would wonder if he should have sensed it before he laid eyes on his visitor. Right now, though the earth shifted under his feet with the force of a nuclear blast and for a beat – or ten, he couldn’t tell, really – Rowan could do nothing but stare, face turning chalky.
He was seeing a ghost. Or a shapeshifting witch of some kind. He considered ripping their heart out through their mouth for the insolence, but he couldn’t move. His fingers began to tingle, his pulse picking up the familiar rhythm of a panic attack.
“Arh-“ he couldn’t finish the word, choking on his own tongue as if it was ten times its usual size. Suddenly he was back on that battlefield, the smell of smoke and burning flesh in his nose, crawling over corpses, looking into horribly mutilated faces for a trace of familiar features, touching bodies so scorched by dragonfire that they disintegrated in his hands. He could still taste their ashes in his mouth.
He swallowed now, instinctively and found himself back in the present between one blink and the next. “Ares,” the name finally broke free of his chest and in the next second, Rowan had thrown his arms around the other man, holding on to him fiercely. “Knew you were a tough bastard,” the glibness of his words was bellied by the heaviness in his tone. Rowan buried his face in the other dragon’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to even his breathing.