Page 5 of Pregnant Rejected Mate

He leans over the edge of the desk, gulping as he nods slowly. “You see, mi hija, my life is in danger.”

Instantly, I look out through the window, expecting to find that the trouble he’s in followed him here.

I’m not even surprised.

“If it’s not money you need, then what is it?” I frown when I turn back to him.

He sighs. “You won’t believe me when I tell you, but you must know there’s no way out of this for me.”

“So, your life is in danger…” I begin, glancing at the window where no indication of trouble is evident. “... Yet, you came all this way?”

He nods again. “You see, the danger doesn’t exist in our world. But it’s here, on Earth.”

“Dad, you’re sounding crazy…”

When he lifts his eyes to mine, I notice the fear flashing across his pupils. “I’m not crazy, Sierra. I was tasked with a job, and I discovered the whereabouts of these supernatural beings. One of them visited me and threatened my life.”

“Supernatural beings?” My brows knit tightly. “Are you being attacked by ungodly spirits? There’s sage for—”

“No, Sierra!” He slams a palm on my desk, but I barely flinch.

I’m convinced now that he’s lost his mind.

“... They are dragons,” he goes on to explain. “Weredragons, the kind that shape-shift into humans and walk this earth.”

I can barely stifle my amusement, cupping a hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing. My father shakes his head in disbelief as he watches me climb out of the chair and round the desk.

Slinking an arm beneath his, I compel him to stand up. I lead him out of my office and plaster a smile on my face for the sake of the ladies in the studio as we head toward the front door.

“You don’t believe me…” he observes as we step out of the studio and onto the sidewalk, where the sun’s blistering rays welcome us to its warmth.

I relish in that warmth, wanting to hold onto some semblance of sanity after hearing what he had to say.

“You want me to believe that dragons exist?” I scoff, lifting a hand to my forehead to shield my face from the sun.

“Not just any dragons… weredragons,” he reiterates in a serious, hushed tone.

I can’t help but giggle. “Sorry, Dad. I find all of this absurd,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “If your life is in danger, I don’t see how I’ll be of any help.”

My dad sighs, staring at the ground when he says, “I’m sorry about this.”

Right before I can lift my head, confused by his apology, two pairs of hands grab my arms with force. I yelp just as the sun’s brilliance is lost, my vision seized by a bag over my head. I’m pushed forward, then lifted off the ground by strong, unwelcomed arms before I’m thrown onto a blanket.

I can’t see a thing, and my sense of hearing is heightened by the sound of feet pattering on metal. There’s metal screeching against metal, then the roar of an unhealthy engine rings out. Laying on the blanket, the vehicle I’m in propels forward, rolling me onto my side with the force.

Kicking and screaming to my knees, arms flailing about, I’m ready to throw fists at whoever comes in my way. But without my sight, the darkness consuming my vision leaves me at a disadvantage as rough, unruly hands grab my arms and pin them behind me. The wheeze of a cable tie rings out in the expanse of the vehicle, filling me with dread. With my arms bound behind me, there’s little movement I can achieve.

When the bag is pulled off my head, only a faint trace of light is filtering from the cracks of the metal container we’re in. It takes me a moment to gather that we’re in the back of a van, the two heinous faces in front of me recognizable. Missing teeth through the snarly smile, a tattoo of a lightning bolt across the other’s cheek.

It’s Dad’s goons in the back of the van, Dad’s voice bleating from the front.

“I’m sorry, Sierra,” he repeats, though his face is hidden by the compartment cover separating the back of the van from the front. “You’re the only one who can save me.”

Groaning under my breath, I’m forced to breathe in the murky, sweaty smells swirling in the back of the van. I have no idea how I can save my father from the weredragons he claims exist.

I’ve only ever heard that word from the folktales my grandmother used to read to me as a bedtime story. They’re not supposed to exist in the real world.

If they do, does my father plan on sacrificing me to them? I wouldn’t be surprised. A life for a life seems fitting, even if I wish my father would care enough to sacrifice his daughter.

---