Page 62 of Dragon Daddy Protector

I nodded, trusting him completely. “Okay.”

Evan stepped back and shifted, and I marveled all over again at the beauty of his dragon form, the large, black-scaled beast that towered over me, with power thrumming in him. My dragon reared up, recognizing her mate, and the pressure in my chest grew. The urge to shift came out of nowhere, but I tamped it down. I wasn’t ready. The wings were enough for now.

But after I climbed on Evan’s back and he took flight, soaring high into the afternoon sky, I smiled until my cheeks ached, imagining what it’d be like when I did this—when I took to the skies with my own wings. I could only imagine it’d be an experience I’d never forget.

I was still exhausted when the morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the bedroom wall. I lay there, eyes heavy and body aching. I’d spent most of the night tossing and turning rather than getting the good night’s rest I’d hoped for. Not only was I nervous about what was ahead of us today, but Evan had been on the phone in the living room late into the night. I hadn’t been able to fall asleep until he’d come to bed.

“Morning, beautiful,” Evan murmured, his voice rough with sleep. He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead before stretching his broad frame out next to mine. “How are you feeling?”

“Morning,” I said, struggling to keep my eyes open. “I didn't get much sleep.”

“I know. I’m sorry about the calls,” he apologized. “I needed to make sure all of our plans were still in order now that Tomas made contact. But don’t worry, everything should be taken care of.”

We went through our morning routine quickly of showering and dressing, and getting something to eat. The next hour flew by, and then it was time to do what we’d come for—visiting Leonardo, the man I hoped held the answers to the mysteries surrounding my mother's death and my shifter heritage.

“Ready?” Evan asked, concern etched into his handsome features as he stood by the door, keys in hand.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” I said, steeling myself for what was ahead.

Evan drove us to the prison, and the tension in my chest thickened with each passing mile. As we approached the imposing structure, he reached over to squeeze my hand.

“Remember, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. You can still back out and no one will think anything of it.” His dark eyes locked onto mine.

I swallowed hard and tried to shake off the anxiety. “I need to know, Evan. I need to understand what happened to my mom and why the shifters targeted her.”

He nodded, understanding my determination even as I felt his protective instincts stir. Lifting our joined hands, he kissed my knuckles. “Just know that I'm here for you no matter what we find out.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, my heart so full of gratitude for this man.

We pulled into a parking spot, and I steeled myself for what lay ahead. This was it. The decisive moment. But with Evan by my side, I knew I’d face whatever was next.

“Let's do this.” My voice was steadier than I thought possible. Finally, we stepped out of the car and walked hand-in-hand toward the entrance.

The sterile smell of disinfectant assaulted my nostrils immediately as we entered the prison's visitors' area. Evan and I approached the front desk; a single gray island in the center of an empty, equally bland room. There was nothing on the walls, no plants or decorations on the desk. Just a woman who looked like she’d rather be anywhere than here.

“Name?” she said, barely glancing at us.

“Mariah Bailey.”

The woman checked her list, then pointed to the security station behind her. “That way.”

I glanced at Evan, who looked like he’d lay into the first person who looked at me the wrong way.

A couple of security guards on the other side of a metal detector waited for us to submit to the usual procedures. They searched through our belongings, then scanned our bodies with handheld wands. The guards regarded us with little interest—just another pair in a long line of visitors—but my anxiety spiked as my dragon snarled in my subconscious at the perceived invasion.

I breathed deeply, wanting to reassure her. It’s fine. This is normal. Was I comforting her or myself?

“Follow me,” a guard said gruffly once we’d made it through security, leading us through a series of dimly lit corridors.

Unease gnawed at my stomach, but I couldn't back down now. We reached a small room divided by a thick glass wall—our only barrier from the inmates on the other side. The guard gestured for us to sit, and I glanced over at Evan before lowering myself onto the hard, plastic chair. My heart pounded in my chest like a war drum, so loud I was sure everyone else must be able to hear it too. There were several others in the room talking on phones through the thick glass wall.

“Stay strong, Mariah,” Evan murmured, squeezing my shoulder. “You’ve got this.” He moved back to stand against the wall, but I felt his eyes on me. His presence alone gave me strength.

A heavy door clanged open on the other side of the glass, and a man stepped into view. His thick, black hair was peppered with gray, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. When his gaze locked with mine, his face paled. He slowly took the seat opposite me and lifted the phone.

“You look so much like your mother,” was the first thing he said when I picked up the phone on my side of the glass and held it to my ear.

I started, then gritted my teeth, hot anger rising up. “Did you know my mother before, or did you only know what she looked like when you murdered her?”

---