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The relief is notable at simply knowing there isn’t anyone else. I allow that information to sink in.
My brow furrows with curiosity, “Men?”
He smirks at me. “No. No one, for a very long time.”
“So, there’s only me.”
He nods, adding, “It is only us.” His words do something to me I can’t describe.
“Tea?” He offers a cup to me I hadn’t seen, and I gratefully take it.
“Thank you.”
The silence between us is easy as we both eat. Just like last night, everything is delicious. I watch as he taps the bone spoon against the shell and eats his egg. And then another and another. It’ll take him all damn day to eat breakfast the way he is.
“Do you usually have all this for breakfast?” I can’t imagine he gets a thing done if he does.
“Usually a mountain of red meat. I like steak. A lot of steak. All day.” I have to laugh at his straightforward admission.
“Then why all this?” I gesture to the tray and our plates.
He peers at me with a look in his eyes as if I should know. “I wanted you to have a nice breakfast.” I swallow down the sip of hot tea and smile back at him. All of those emotions going back and forth settle down if for no other reason than that I’m grateful.
Just as the fluttering in my chest picks up again and threatens to have me overthinking everything, a knock at the door interrupts us. My eyes widen as I realize I’m not at all decent.
“One minute.” Drago calls out with a deep baritone voice. He moves quickly from the bed to the pile of clothes and pulls out a light blush nightie that seems to be made of tiny pieces sewn together like petals of a flower. It’s nicer than any dress I’ve ever worn.
“Wear this,” he tells me, handing me the delicate clothing, and I’m taken aback by how soft it is. It’s luxurious for a simple night gown. It slips on easily enough, loose yet hugs my curves in a way that’s elegant, and stops just above my knees in the front yet longer in the back. I’m so enthralled with the gown, I’m caught off guard when Drago opens the door.
One of his brothers walks in and it takes me a moment to know that it’s Galen. I remember that Cyrus has a small scar on his chin. It’s uncanny how alike the brothers look. I glance between Galen and Drago and grin at the telltale differences between them. Galen has a slightly sharper chin. Good. I won’t confuse them all now. That will put an end to me thinking every dragon is Drago.
“Galen.” Drago is short with his brother and seems uneasy with him being here. He opened the door, but he stands in between Galen and me, as though he’s protecting me. The smile falls from my face. I hesitantly move to the back of the bed. For some reason it’s become my safe spot. An uneasiness creeps through me. I’m reminded of Victor, of talk of war. A sickness threatens to rise up my throat.
Galen puts his hands up, palms out. “I only came to apologize.”
“Apology accepted. You can go now.” Galen flinches, appearing hurt by Drago’s curt response.
Drago shifts his weight and sighs. “My dragon is still on edge.”
“I understand. I’d like to apologize to your…”
“Kara,” Drago cuts him off.
“To your Kara,” Galen finishes, although he’s yet to look at me. He speaks only to Drago. “I didn’t mean to frighten her or get your dragon riled up. I didn’t know she was in heat.” He says the last line with a bit of an admonishment, and it takes a moment for me to even register his words. Heat. He scents the air deeply and adds, “Besides, her heat is gone now, your dragon should be fine.”
I look at them both in confusion and ask, “Heat?” A prickle of nervousness runs through me. Heat is for werewolves. Heat is for breeding. Humans do not do such things.
My heart races as Galen’s wide eyes meet mine. I can’t meet his gaze so instead I stare at the sheets. Right beneath me, Drago took me last night. My breath comes in shorter pants.
Heat. The realization is slow to come over me and panic sweeps in as the puzzle pieces fall into place.
That’s why he fucked me. That’s why he’s keeping me.
To breed me. It’s why he’s nice to me. I knew it was too good to be true. Betrayal sweeps over me as my throat closes tightly while Drago and his brother have a heated and hushed discussion.
Tears prick my eyes as I recall so many conversations centered around dragons. I remember them talking about Isabella only days ago. I remember what the sorcerer said about their need for heirs.
Drago only wants young. He just wants to breed me. I look up at Drago with tears in my eyes. That’s why he can’t tell me how long he wants me to stay. My heart falls into the bottom of my stomach and shatters. I scoot off the bed rather unladylike and ignore Drago as he calls after me. I slam the door to the bathroom with trembling hands and try to lock it, but there’s no fucking lock.
