Page 16 of Fated for his Flame

Chapter Eight

Chloe

“My son,” the barrel-chested dragon said slowly, his voice deep and gravelly. “With a woman?”

Silas winced.

“Could it truly be? Has he found a mate at last?”

An awkward silence descended over us. I stood my ground but didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure what to say. Why was it so surprising to see Silas with a woman? What did that have to do with anything?

“Where did you find her?” his father asked, continuing as he took more steps. “How did you know she was your—”

All at once, the mood changed.

Thunderclouds formed between the big, bushy eyebrows on Silas’ father’s face, and he whirled to face his son.

“What is the meaning of this?” he hissed, the muscles at the base of his jaw clenching so tight they popped out in stark relief against the skin. “Explain yourself, Silas.”

“Father, I—”

But the elder dragon didn’t want to hear the excuse. His anger was already popping off. I could see it in his eyes, and I wondered if my lifespan had just become measured in seconds as his eyes cut to Silas. “You brought one of them into my house?”

Instead of trying to get a word in, Silas just stood tall, staring silently at his father as the man snarled and growled in fury, spitting insults. Through it all, Silas bore it stoically. Waiting, biding his time. It clearly wasn’t the first time his father had gone on a rant about humans, I guessed. It was something Silas was used to.

“We’re going to deal with this here and now,” his father said, then started shouting for a council meeting to decide what should be done with Silas and ‘it.’ Apparently, to this old hard-liner, I wasn’t even a person.

At that, Silas’ face went blank. He didn’t move until his father had stormed off into the house. That was when his features crumbled slightly, replacing his stiff exterior with a drawn look of exhaustion.

Not afraid. Nor angry. Both of which were emotions I might’ve expected from him. Instead, he just looked sick and tired of it.

“You’ve been down this road before,” I said. It wasn’t a guess.

Silas nodded. “Yes. This is … pretty much what I expected. My father—”

“Hates humans,” I finished.

“A little bit,” he said. “Not sure what gave you that impression.”

“Me neither,” I said, glad Silas was still on my side and he hadn’t abandoned me to side with his father.

“Yeah. It’s a mystery, then. One we’ll probably never solve.” His voice was wry, but the exhaustion on his face was slowly being replaced with a look of irritation as his father continued shouting from the halls.

The sound was growing louder again. He was coming back.

I glanced at where the head of the house had disappeared. “Am I in any danger?” I asked, conscious of the door behind me. “Should I go?”

“No,” Silas said firmly and swiftly. “Not physical, at least. You’re here at the request of the sovereign. Much as he hates humans, my father respects her and will not hurt one of her guests. But don’t expect any pleasantries either.”

“And why should I be pleasant?” Just like that, his father was back among us, his eyes fixed on me, flames flickering in their depths. I wondered just how deep that respect for the sovereign went.

“Because that’s considered proper,” Silas tried but not very hard. He knew it was pointless—as did I.

“Proper? Was it proper what her people did to one of ours?”

I fought back the roll of my eyes, but it didn’t matter. He picked up on my reaction.

“Do you deny, then, that you kidnapped one of our people and tried to experiment on him?”

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