Page 11

11

Rorik

Hells, this was the longest day of my life. Before I even opened the door, my whole body sagged with fatigue. I was ready to collapse on the bed and be unconscious… until I had to wake up the next morning and perform the next challenge on the Dragonfate Games.

I didn’t even want to think about that. I grunted, shook it off, then pried the door open.

Poppy stood there.

His presence shocked me awake. My eyes widened, and my spine straightened.

“Poppy,” I said. “You’re here.”

I couldn’t hold back the awe in my voice. My friend had come back from the dead. There were so many things I wanted to ask him—like how he was even alive .

“Hi, Rorik,” Poppy murmured, fussing with his fingers. He looked uncomfortable, like he’d rather be elsewhere but was doing his best to be brave.

He tilted his head to glance past me. “Um… is everything okay in there?”

Despite my burning questions, I let him control the conversation. He deserved that much.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He sniffed the air with a worried expression. “I don’t smell blood…”

“Why would there be blood?”

Poppy leaned deeper. He was not subtle as he scanned the room behind me. “Um… You know.”

“I don’t,” I admitted. Then I stepped out of the way, letting him get a full glimpse. “You can come in. By the way, how did you find my room?”

Poppy’s eyes softened as he met my gaze. “I followed your scent. It’s so familiar... I could never forget it.”

My heart filled with fondness for my old friend. For now, I held back my bombardment of questions. It was enough just to see him alive and well.

Poppy chewed his lip as he surveyed the room. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sighed in relief, but he wasn’t relaxed. His small body bristled with tension until he finally swung around and blurted, “Rorik, you didn’t kill Saffron, did you?”

The desperation in his voice struck me. He was trembling. Terrified.

“No,” I said.

Should I have? I wondered. My internal doubts flared up again. My training and beliefs warred with my new, messy emotions.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Poppy cried. His tension vanished, and he went limp as a doll. The fear was a puppet controlling his strings; as soon as I told him Saffron was alive, Poppy collapsed on the edge of the bed in relief.

Why did Poppy care so much about Saffron? It wasn’t that I felt jealous; Poppy’s feelings clearly weren’t romantic.

Damn it all.

Were mine ?

I didn’t know what to think anymore.

Pushing down those ridiculous ideas, I sat next to Poppy. I noticed he tensed slightly.

Was he… afraid of me?

Hurt pierced me like a lance. A sick feeling swam in my gut. I never, ever wanted him to be scared of me.

A sudden image flashed in my head: the sight of Saffron’s unnatural talons on his human hand. At that moment, I felt scared of him.

No, that wasn’t quite it. I wasn’t afraid of Saffron—I was afraid of what he represented.

My sworn enemy. One I felt something for. What was he to me?

Frustrated, I shook my head. Now was not the time to spiral. I had to stay strong for Poppy’s sake.

“Poppy. I would never harm you. You know that,” I said quietly.

His eyes rounded as he swiveled to face me. “No, I know. I’m sorry…” He rubbed his arm anxiously. It was a familiar gesture, even after all this time apart. “It’s just…”

He went silent for a few beats, staring at his balled-up fists on his knees. Then it all spilled out in an anguished wail.

“Please don’t kill Saffron! Or any of them! Please, Rorik, I’m begging you!”

His outburst stunned me. I’d never heard him speak his mind so openly, or even raise his voice.

“I didn’t kill Saffron,” I reassured him. “He’s fine. He left five minutes ago because—”

Because of an inane argument? Because I couldn’t figure out my own feelings? I didn’t know how to finish that statement.

Poppy sniffled, holding back tears. “Oh, that’s good. He’s okay…” Then he sniffled again, pausing. He deliberately scented the air. “Um. This is rude of me, I’m sorry. But the room smells like…” He blushed. “Sex.”

There was no hiding from his sensitive wolf’s nose.

“Yes, we had sex,” I said bluntly.

Poppy’s eyes suddenly brimmed with hope. He broke into a huge smile. “Rorik! You and Saffron? Really?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, my cheeks flushing. “Keep it down.”

Poppy gasped, too ecstatic to hold back. “Does that mean he’s your fated mate?”

I grimaced at the phrase. It was overly sentimental, too saccharine.

“Fated mates are not real, and you know that,” I said firmly.

Poppy met my gaze evenly. The hope on his face twisted into fierce resolve. “Yes, they are.”

I was taken aback. Poppy? Standing up for himself? I couldn’t believe it.

“That’s nonsense,” I said, not unkindly. “We know fated mates are a fable. The only duty an omega has is to—”

A random ghostly pain pricked my skull. Shaken, I grabbed the side of my head.

I imagined Saffron’s pissed-off expression. I couldn’t not imagine it. It was like he’d teleported into my mind to scold me for what I was about to say.

His voice echoed: Don’t let me hear you say that ever again. I won’t have you reduced to a womb.

In the real world, Poppy frowned. He looked angry. I’d never seen that expression on his face before.

“You’re wrong, Rorik,” Poppy said. “What the tundra clan alphas drilled into us… it’s not true.”

I grunted, still clutching my head. “It is.”

It was becoming difficult to get the words out.

“I’ve seen it happen, Rorik,” Poppy insisted, his voice rigid. “Not once, not twice, but five times. Two of my closest friends found their fated dragon mates on this island.”

I dropped my hand. Poppy found new friends? That was a relief.

“You seem to be doing well for yourself in your new life,” I remarked.

Poppy shuffled in his seat, uncomfortable that he was the topic of conversation again. “This isn’t about me. Please believe me, Rorik. Fated mates are real.”

He said it so fervently that it was almost impossible not to believe him. The naive part of me wanted to.

But I was a warrior. If Poppy was a gentle idealist, I was a stark realist. The idea of a true love so potent it could conquer anything was unreasonable.

Wasn’t it?

“You’re forgetting one vital thing, Poppy,” I said gravely. “Even if I accept that fated mates are real, nobody could be fated to a dragon. They’re innately evil. You’ve watched your friends fall in love? Fine. But we’ve seen the destruction with our own eyes. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten it, either.”

Poppy’s eyes flashed with pain. He bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the floor. His frame trembled as if he was about to cry. He must’ve remembered the chaos and violence from that horrible incident.

Poor Poppy. I reached for his shoulder.

But to my shock, he slapped it away.

“No!” Poppy snapped, bristling as he leapt off the bed. “You don’t know what happened that day! That dragon, he—”

Poppy gasped, cut off by a shaking fit. He quaked like someone was physically shaking him. He couldn’t speak.

Worried, I rose to help him. I hated watching him suffer. But he shook his head and hugged his arms to his chest.

“I’m okay,” he wheezed. His voice was weaker than summer ice. “Really, I’m fine.”

My brows furrowed in concern. Yet I was also frustrated that Poppy wouldn’t tell me the full truth. Why was he hiding it from me? I was his clan mate, and his friend. All I wanted to do was support him.

“Poppy.” When his wet brown eyes met my gaze, I asked, “Don’t you trust me?”

He hesitated. I had to admit, that stung.

After a moment, he leaned over and put his small hands on top of my large ones. “I trust you, Rorik. But I’m scared of what you might do. The dragons and their mates… they’re like a family to me.”

That stung, too.

“What about our clan?” I asked defensively.

A shadow fell over his face. “They’re a part of my past I want to forget.”

I winced. I couldn’t listen to this anymore. Hearing Poppy dismiss us so casually crossed a line.

“What about your brother, Sorrel?” I demanded. “He thinks you’re dead. We all did! We mourned you, yet here you are, living it up in enemy territory!”

Poppy flinched, but to my surprise, he didn’t back down. His wolf’s eyes gleamed with pride as he shot back, “Then I’m sorry you wasted your grief on me.”

His lip trembled as he hurried out of the room. As he left, the door slammed shut behind him.

A second later, I heard his muffled voice call out, “I didn’t mean to slam the door. But I’m still leaving.”

When it was clear Poppy was gone, I groaned in frustration. Exhausted, I fell back onto the bed. I’d never felt such a raging whirlwind of emotions in a single day. I was supposed to be a calm, stoic bear. I didn’t know who, or what I was anymore.

I rolled over, staring through the window at the distant sea. Even in darkness, moonlight reflected off its waves. Then I remembered the foul heat, and felt homesick for the cold grip of winter and the crackle of ice.

But Poppy’s comments bombarded me relentlessly. Fated mates? Falling in love with dragons? Not wanting to return home? None of it made sense. At first, I’d assumed the dragons brainwashed him, but his eyes were clear. He was the same Poppy I’d known, but with a fresh layer of confidence.

His insistence that the dragons were good and trustworthy threw another wrench in my beliefs. Even after the hell we went through on that horrible day, Poppy put his faith in dragons. I felt like I was losing my mind.

I shut my eyes. In the blackness, a certain sunny face popped into my thoughts: Saffron.

I could’ve opened my eyes and made him vanish, but I didn’t. I let him linger. After my argument with Poppy, the imaginary Saffron was the only person I could turn to.

I took a deep breath. The bed still smelled like him. His aggravatingly addictive scent infiltrated my nose with every inhale—and I liked it.

My chest clenched. I was torn.

Was Saffron truly a dragon?

And if so, was I falling for my worst enemy?