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Chalk squeaking against my board tore my attention away from her chest.
‘There’s nothing wrong with you either,’ she finished writing.
The fog of my rut eased, and I reread her words. A hot tear welled in my eye. I dabbed at it before it ruined my make-up. My rational mind swooped in and took control. I wasn’t Lux anymore. I was Sister Abby. I couldn’t be the dragon she needed.
I clenched my cybernetic fist between us as if its existence proved her wrong.
Jay raised an eyebrow before stepping forward and uncurling my metal fingers one at a time. Although I didn’t feel her touch, the sensors connecting the prosthetic to my elbow sent little sparks down my skin to mimic contact.
I needed more.
My dragon and his rut pressed forward.
I couldn’t have more.
I pulled my hand back and stepped away.
Rutting in an orphanage would be a disaster. Self-control. I needed it more now than ever. My days spent sitting alone in Leberecht’s oubliette, hungry and going half-mad, came back to me. I hated using the tools my father forced me to learn, but I took steady breaths and slowed my thoughts, focusing all of them on a single point.
My dragon growled but eased off, taking his rut with him.
I could do this.
The woman stepped toward me, pointing at her writing on my board.
I bit my lips together and narrowed my eyes, the anger and hurt of my old life swelled my chest. She had no idea just how much was wrong with me. It wasn’t just my missing foot and hand. My very personality was a black mark on my dad’s beliefs… on dragon shifter beliefs.
Our isolation from the outside world gave me my physical defects, and our isolation from each other my mental ones. The scars no one saw shaped my reality. We weren’t solitary beasts from the past. We were dragon shifters. Part human. Our two halves needed each other.
My stomach twisted, knowing I believed in something I refused to live.
She reached out to me, and I batted her hand away. This woman had come here, inserted herself into my life, and was working to destroy it.
I made sure my horns and tail were under control, though my cock refused to wilt before glaring at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Her face fell, and she stepped back.
“You don’t understand anything,” I growled. Tendrils of electricity snaked out of my mouth.
Fearlessly, she stepped to the chalkboard: Explain it?
I scrunched up my face, my insecurities already halfway out of my mouth, before clenching my jaw shut. I didn’t know this woman. My threatening rut wasn’t about her. It was my dragon and my denial. We would hump anything at this point. She wasn’t special.
With a very un-lady-like grunt, I stepped away from my desk. “You need to go. Now.”
She narrowed her eyes and wrote: Because I make you uncomfortable, or is there a reason I shouldn’t be here?
“Both.” I clenched my fists.
The woman stepped back, her gaze darting around the room.
My dragon immediately perked up, also looking for a threat. A violent need to protect this woman gripped me. “What do you mean, is there a reason?”
The woman eyed me, suspicion filling her gaze. She turned to the board: I need to go.
Her long, creamy, bare legs bolted toward my door. She opened it and walked out with her hips swaying. I swear my dragon’s eyeballs bounced with her ass. My brain fogged. Need and violence stroked my nerves.
Rut.
