Page 33 of Destined By Dragonblood (Blood Born #2)

Dolyn

I set down on the cloaked veranda facing my cavern-like home and shifted to human form. A rush of wind lifted snow and freshly fallen sleet, blasting my naked body, but I didn’t feel the cold—or even the frigid stone of the mountain beneath my feet.

Fire burned in my guts, ignited by a combination of rage and fear I couldn’t stomach thinking about.

Anger became my focus. Father had promised me so many things.

Assured me of my station, how as the only spawn of one of the final royal bloodlines, I would take my place as alpha.

A triad looked over by me, protected by my dragonblood, loved with every part of my being.

My inner dragon whimpered his sorrow, pulling my attention toward the other emotion swamping my brain regardless of my desire to ignore it.

I’d hoped to watch Ashley drink down my cum and find herself addicted to my life-giving seed. Instead, a single taste of Vanni’s had made her hunger, desperate for more on her tongue and in her belly. According to her, his cum had been sweet, hot, and tingly inside her body.

Beta .

Swallowing hard, I shook my head, refusing to believe my inner beast’s declaration about who we were. Forcing a bond even if I had wanted to rightfully claim myself as alpha over Vanni and Ashley wouldn’t have worked. There would be no manipulating them.

So, I’d left. Fled like a coward to the only place no one would think to look for me, a mountain range I had avoided for decades.

A dozen strides landed me beneath crumbling archways worn by centuries of wicked weather, and I laid my hand upon the oaken door tucked beneath. The wood came alive beneath my touch and pushed open in silence.

I had expected warmth on my naked skin from the fires deep in the bowels of the mountain of my ancestral home but not the lack of dust and cobwebs that should have accumulated in my long absence. Or the lantern hanging above the kitchen island fighting off the oppressive dark.

My heart beat heavy in my chest, and I stepped over the threshold, the door swishing shut behind me on its own and entombing me in silence.

Breathing deeply, I categorized every scent, searching for verification those I had provided for and visited on occasion while living with Elijah were still alive even though it wasn’t humanly possible.

Lemon and rosemary.

Chicken and freshly baked bread.

A few steps into the living area of the massive cavern added more hints of life through my nose. Vinegar and hints of orange.

I filled my lungs until they burned.

Female.

But not the one I had abandoned.

My gaze narrowed while taking in the immaculate condition of my home that hadn’t changed since I’d last stood in this spot.

The décor matched what had been popular in the fifties when I’d updated the space.

Garish yellows and blues added color to the living area on my right.

Wooden cabinets curved along the rock wall to my left.

The Home Comfort wood cookstove in their midst still gleamed as though straight out of a catalogue rather than decades old from when I’d brought it up the mountain side and set it in place.

My home carried more unsavory memories than good. Heartache and bitterness lay upon every surface, thick enough to tighten my throat. The cavern had been the place of my birth, the prison where I’d been unable to escape Father and his teachings.

Unlike Elijah’s place in the White Mountains, my ancestral home hadn’t been updated with the latest technology. I didn’t even have electricity or natural gas—I’d never needed it. A flicker of dragon fire lit candles, lanterns, and kindling as quickly as a thought.

After having experienced Elijah’s comforts, however, I realized how badly I had ignored what was my birthright, even if the mountain surrounding me hadn’t ever felt like home.

She approaches.

The scent of female strengthened in my nose at the same time my inner beast spoke. I flitted my focus toward the dark hallway directly ahead of me. A sense of familiarity lay beneath her flowery scent, causing my stomach to tighten.

She materialized like a wraith, a smaller lantern in her hand glinting highlights of gold in the pale hair shimmering down to her waist, a Burmese dog heeling at her side.

Light brown eyes took me in from head to toe without a hint of fear or concern over my nakedness.

She was tall and curved like the women I used to be drawn to prior to meeting Ashley.

I remained upright and unmoving, hands at my sides as the young woman turned off her smaller lamp, set it atop the table, and came to a stop a dozen or so feet away from me.

“Who are you?” I asked, keeping any trace of violence over her trespassing from my voice since her presence wasn’t any threat to me. Neither was the cute dog, considering how it seemed to smile up at me, its tongue lolling out the side.

The young woman’s gaze flicked over my face as though categorizing every pore and line. “Primrose Cadet.”

Cadet…Dahlia.

The blood seeped from my upper body, leaving me lightheaded. “Dahlia,” I heard myself whisper even though the woman couldn’t still be alive—could she?

“My grandmother.” Head cocked to the side, the young woman continued to study me. “She was ninety-four when she passed, and even on her deathbed, she hoped you would return. That was four long years ago.”

“Joseph?” I managed to ask past the lump in my throat.

“My grandfather.” Her gaze flitted down over my nakedness, but I couldn’t read a single thought or feel any energy emanating from her.

My beast lay silent, even though I could sense the whimper he withheld since I wouldn’t yet allow us to grieve over the loss of our old lovers.

The dog woofed and peered up at Primrose.

She absently touched its head, trailing fingers over its fur. “You are Dolyn, aren’t you?”

I nodded, unsure what to think or how to stop the rush of emotion swarming my chest. Too much had been tossed into my face in mere minutes, and I floundered to find any sense of calm.

“Go on.” She encouraged the dog. “His name is Tiggy,” she told me as he ambled close to sniff fingers I hadn’t realized I’d stretched out.

Swallowing hard, I knelt, taking his face in my hands. “Who’s a good boy?” I asked, my voice ragged.

“The summer before grandmother passed, I felt a driving urge to get this creature. She named him—for you.”

“Tiggy,” I rasped.

“Short for Antigone,” Primrose said. “It’s Greek and means worthy of one’s parents.”

A tear slid down my cheek, and Tiggy whined as though experiencing my pain. His wet tongue on my face offered comfort when I needed it most.

“I had a dog when I was a young boy,” I whispered—to the animal or Primrose, I wasn’t sure. “My alpha father had it killed because he said loving the lesser being as I did would make me weak.”

“He was wrong.” Primrose’s voice wavered along with mine, proving she wasn’t as stoic as she projected.

“Father made me focus on growing stronger, not soft toward cute, fluffy creatures that were beneath us.” I murmured the words that had hurt more than any fist.

Tiggy rubbed his nose into my chest, and I scratched behind his ears before wrapping my arms around him. “Such a good boy,” I whispered against his fur.

“He was meant to be yours.”

I pulled away from the dog and stood, eyeing the woman before me. She wore billowy pants and an old sweater that looked homemade. No frills—lace, jewelry, or makeup—adorned her body, but she was as beautiful as her grandmother.

Memories flooded through me

Dahlia and Joseph chained in the playroom far below where Primrose and I stood, sweat and cum dripping off their bodies.

The soft sighs as they had come down from climaxing beneath me always made me hunger for a deeper connection.

The two humans had relieved my itch for fucking but hadn’t been able to fulfill my need for the mates and offspring I’d longed for.

Elijah and I had never agreed to exclusivity, so I never told him about the two lovers I kept across the country for the first half of our relationship. I’d visited with Joseph and Dahlia in the early sixties in one last attempt to make them mine.

The ancient ritual to bind Dahlia, Joseph, and I together hadn’t worked.

Even after they’d drunk my cum and wanted the bond, our hearts and minds hadn’t cemented together.

No bursting golden flames had wrapped around us.

No mental connection had been born in that moment and given us access to one another’s thoughts.

No shared emotions had radiated among the three of us.

Feeling unworthy, I had abandoned them, left my ancestral home for good, and submitted my body to Elijah—and my inner beast’s desire for pain. But what I’d left behind…

Primrose’s slightly crooked nose was all Joseph. The same pointy chin I’d always found so alluring on Dahlia lay beneath Primrose’s full lips. The yellow hair and the glint of gold in her thickly lashed orbs were identical to mine.

“You’re of my blood,” I whispered, realizing I hadn’t failed in producing offspring.

“I am.”

My eyelids slammed shut, and I allowed my sorrow and rage to roar through my inner beast and back out again, rattling the cavern around us.

If only I had the gift of sensing Blood Born as Elijah’s female did, I would have known I’d somehow managed to impregnate a human female. If I had stayed and accepted their comfort, within a matter of weeks, I would have recognized Dahlia miraculously carried Joseph’s and my child.

A Blood Born of Father’s royal line.

I had succeeded in producing longed-for offspring even though doing so with humans was unheard of.

It took three dragonblood to create life, I’d been told by Father.

What else had he been wrong about?

I opened my eyes to find Primrose still watching me, unconcerned and unmoved. “You know who and what I am?” My voice broke as I brought to question my entire damned existence.