Page 130 of Rescued By The Dragon

Turning to face Dorran, I noticed that there wasn't any worry on his face about our living situation. Maybe a part of him wanted to go? “The possibilities are endless, Little Mouse.”

“You won’t be King?”

Something dark flickered across his face. His dragon didn’t like the idea of not taking the throne. “I’m not concerned about that.”

A frown pulled at my mouth. “You deserve the crown, Dorran. You can’t let him take it from you.”

Dorran swiped his palm down my arm to my hand. “Don’t worry about it. We need to get you well so we can get the hell out of here.”

I couldn’t let Dorran leave this kingdom. He’d planned to take over. I wouldn’t let his father rip it from him. “Did the wolves go home?”

Dorran scoffed, his emerald-colored gaze blazed with fury. “They were forced home. My father—like the coward he is—came in once the battle was over, fired Gideon, and forced the wolves to leave.”

It wasn’t surprising.

I tried to turn for my coffee, but Dorran stopped me. “Please, Amara. Promise me you won’t go speak to my father?”

I hated that promise. I didn’t want to agree to it. Dorran’s intent gaze wasn’t letting up. “Okay,” I whispered.

Dorran pressed his mouth against my forehead. “Do you need pain medicine?”

I grabbed my coffee and blew into it. “I’m fine. Did the sirens touch the kingdom? The humans?”

“Yes. Some homes were destroyed. I think they are still doing a count, since some of the kingdom was found deep in the woods, far from home.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip. I wanted to know if Helena or Sasha had been harmed. “Can you take me to the village?” I asked. “I need to check on Sasha.”

Dorran nodded. “You’ll need to wear a hat.” He smiled. “Not that a hat would hide anything about you, but it may help. We’ll go look at the damage.”

I took another sip and asked, “Did all of the sirens flee?”

Dorran rubbed his palms over his face. “Yes. When Evian died, they vanished. I’m assuming they no longer have a reason to fight. He was the culprit. He was the one that wanted to fulfill his father’s wishes.”

Finishing my coffee, I walked into the bedroom and found a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt of Dorran’s. He seemed to hover in the doorjamb of every room I walked into. I felt his fear for me. His regret. His guilt.

I sat my toothbrush down on the cabinet and turned to look at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You have to stop that,” I said softly, shaking my head. “I can feel your guilt. This,” I said, pointing toward my side, “is not your fault.”

Dorran looked the other way, his arms folded over his chest as his irritation grew. I walked over, and put my hands on his forearms. “None of this is your fault. Stop the guilt. Let it go.”

Dorran slid his tongue across his teeth.

Tears built in his eyes and it felt like being stabbed again.

“Dorran,” I whispered, reaching up to pull him into a hug.

He bent down and wrapped me in his arms, holding me close. I felt his chest moving as he cried. Dorran carefully picked me up and buried his head into my shoulder. I could only imagine what it would look like to someone on the outside.

A huge dragon shifter crying into a siren’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I let him stab you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “He was quick—,”

“Stop,” I pleaded. “Just stop. It’s no one’s fault.”

Dorran sat me down on the bed and ran his fingers into his ebony-colored hair before bending down in front of me, his palms on my thighs. “My dragon is mourning because he feels we failed you. It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt. He could have killed you, Amara. At my hand.”

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