Page 9

I step out of the shower and swallow a curse.

Angela is lying on my bed. Sound asleep, curled up with her knees to her chest.

Tiny, wee thing. Okay, not so tiny to my human form, but to my dragon form? She’d be gone in three bites.

But why is she in my room? I told her first door along—

Yes, you numpty, because that’s always been the guest room—and you’re the guest. You were here first.

I slide back into the bathroom, towel more firmly wrapped around my waist.

It’s no big deal. They have other rooms. I’ll collect up my things and move down the hall.

But I need clean clothes. The jeans I threw on last night probably smell of cigarettes and spilled beer since I wore them to the roadhouse.

As quietly as I can, I move to the dresser and hold still while Angela rolls and moans softly in her sleep.

My heart speeds up the longer I watch her, and I don’t know why I suddenly have such a strong urge to go over and kiss my mate, wake her up in ways that’ll have her screaming in delight.

“Mate?” I mouth to myself, wondering where the bloody hell that idea came from.

Until I see it.

My amulet. My amulet around her neck, resting right between her perfect breasts.

“Fuck!” I hiss.

Angela’s eyelids fly open, and she gasps, sitting up with a frantic look on her face.

“Graham!” she gasps.

“I forgot I left my luggage in here,” I explain.

“Wait, was this your room? There’s a bathroom?” Angela cocks her head, and her mouth drops as she cranes her neck. “That’s a huge bathroom! Why is everything here so big?”

All the better for the dragon to fuck you with my dear, I think, but I mercifully keep my mouth shut. “I told you the wrong room, I’m sorry. I should have sent you to the first door on the left .”

“Oh, I can move my stuff, it’s no problem. And it’s really nice that you guys give out souvenirs—oh, shoot. I’m so stupid right now,” Angela puts her hand on the amulet and begins to lift it off from around her neck. “This must be yours, huh?”

I cross the room in one bound and pin her wrist to her throat. “Don’t take it off. It’s... It’s bad luck,” I say.

She nods, silent, wide-eyed.

“I’ll move my things,” I whisper, releasing her.

“Mine’s still packed,” she squeaks and scurries out the door. Across the hall, the other bedroom door slams shut.

“Oh, hell,” I wheeze, sitting down, my ribs feeling three sizes too small. “Angela’s wearing my amulet.”

Dragons aren’t supposed to take them off, but I break that rule all the time. I’ve only ever heard of a dragon letting another wear his amulet when they’re on their deathbed. They usually take it off and place it on their youngest dragonborn, or maybe on the eldest child, to symbolize their new place as leader in the clan.

As I stumble into undershorts and a clean pair of jeans, I call the one person who already knows how badly I’ve screwed up, how badly I’ve disgraced the family name, and still loves me.

“Ian?”

“Graham! How are you?”

“Um. Everything is fine. The business is fine. I’m home for lunch and then I’ll go back,” I tell a half-truth.

“Grand! We’re meeting the High King tonight at the May Festival. Vanessa looks beautiful. Mother gave her great-gran’s amulet and had it refined in her own fire. It’s gorgeous.”

“Oh, good. How beautiful,” I stumble over the words, but they’re the perfect doorway into this conversation. “And little Murdo will be gifted an amulet tonight?”

“That’s the plan. Unless someone does something incredibly stupid before the party.”

“Uhhh. Well.”

“Graham, no. What did you do?” My brother’s voice drops a full octave and reminds me why I used to be afraid of him. Reminds me of why sometimes I still am.

“I didn’t do anything!” Technically true. I did not give Angela my amulet. She put it on herself. Of course, I did take it off , but that’s not the real issue. “You know more about the logistical nature of things,” I fawn. “How do amulets confer protection to their owners?”

“Hm? Graham, that’s stuff we learned when our wings were still wet.”

“Tell me again!” I snap, resisting the urge to hurl my phone across the room.

“Well, all amulets are made from the family’s hoard, usually a choice piece of gold or silver. The High King blessing them is a bit of a formality, but it does mean you want your clan to be allied with all the other clans in case of threats.”

“Right, right, right,” I roll my wrist, urging him to speed up. “But now... what happens if a dragon takes his amulet off?”

“Well, he’s not protected.”

Duh, Ian. “I mean, suppose he took it off and someone else put it on?”

“Well, our family wouldn’t have that problem. Each family puts their own protections on their amulets, don’t they?”

“Do they?” I should have paid attention when I was younger, but no, I wanted to sneak off and watch repeats of McGyver .

“Yes! Like, for our amulets, the silver burns the skin of anyone who tries to steal them. The only way someone could wear one of our family’s amulets would be if it were given as a gift and taken with pure intention.”

Like a sad, innocent human thinking our family magnanimously leaves necklaces lying around. I suppose Ian has splashed his money about a little with this house...

“I don’t know why you’re worrying about this now. And of course, the only time our amulets can be gifted is to our mates or children. Now, it’s different if the original owner has passed on, which is why Vanessa was able to take Gran’s amulet. Perhaps she would have been able to anyway, since she’s carrying blood kin. Hm. I’m not sure.”

Mate? Or child?

“Mate?” I repeat.

“Yes. I mean, some people think it’s terribly romantic, don’t they? When you give your mate your amulet, you’re saying you put her life above your own, and you’re covering her in the strongest protection you have. I suppose it’s going to become a popular trend again, since we live in fairly peaceful times and dragons aren’t at risk of walking into battles at any given moment.”

“W-what if you want to break the betrothal?”

“What? Graham, are you seeing someone? What the heck happened to Pine Ridge not having any of your own kind? You aren’t bringing some California crime dragon into my home, are you?” he hisses, fury and shock in his voice.

“No! I just wanted to know!”

“Well, good luck getting it back! As far as I know, she has to wear it until you’re married and she is given her own by the family or granted one when she carries her first child. That’s if you even have a family old enough to have amulets. Graham,” Ian’s voice is so low I can barely hear it, tight and stressed, “you know not all families have amulets, and those that do treasure each and every one. Most have been passed down. Ours are from Hugh and Herbert, the twins lost in the Battle of the Somme.”

Oh fuck. Guilt sledgehammers into me as my great-grandmother’s shaking voice plays in my head. “Your great-uncles, my bairns, that you’ll never meet in this world. Both lost providing cover for McCrae's Battalion of the Royal Scots, the Highland Light Infantry, God rest their souls.” My throat is a steel trap now. Air isn’t getting in. Words aren’t getting out.

“Graham! I said, ‘You still have Herbert’s amulet, don’t you?’ You dinnae give it to some one-night stand you got your leg over? No. No, you couldn’t have. It’d burn some common slag.”

“You’re overreacting. Panicking. I was just curious.”

“I suppose you could get it back if you tell her you will no longer protect her or she refuses the offer of the Kane dragons’ protections... But who would do that?”

Who would do that? Not someone who might be kidnapped and forced into a sham marriage with a drug-trafficking, arms-dealing mafioso. Even if Angela did say that, I couldn’t let her take it off now! It might reverse any protections conferred on her and leave her a sitting duck! Blood on my hands. More blood on my hands...

“Right. Got it. Go and have a good time. I have to go... see about some mulch,” I blurt, and end the call.

“Ohhhh. Oh, God.” I groan and collapse back on the bed. “What’ve I done?

Angela’s scent instantly overwhelms me. Not the smell of the products she uses on her hair and skin, but Angela’s actual scent. I breathe in, and my chest expands. All the tension leaves it in one long rush.

She smells like wind. Like flying.

Because she’s your mate.

Unless there’s a mistake.

“Oh, yes. There’s a mistake. And I made it...”