Page 42 of Pregnant Rejected Mate

Father sighs, the sound ancient despite how young he appears. It’s only thanks to the gift of immortality that he seems to be as young as his children—almost identical to Draco. It’s the way he carries himself, and the way he speaks, that attests to his vast knowledge and stature amongst the dragon shifters.

“Of course I do,” he says, looking compassionately into my eyes. “I fell in love with your mother when we were younger. I know how profound the feeling is.”

I hang my head in shame. “With everything happening, it’s almost as if the dragon shifters have forgotten that humans have feelings.”

Father places a hand on my shoulder with a sigh. “We haven’t forgotten, Son. We’re only learning how to integrate our lives with theirs. Love, however, has always been universal. And we’d be barbaric if we didn’t consider that.”

“You know I will never force her to be with me.”

“I know, Felix,” he assures me. “Perhaps the slate would have been clean enough to make a good impression if it were someone else.”

“I failed her the first time,” I murmur, moved by my father’s consoling. I’d never seen him this way before; he was gentle and understanding.

He’d always just been the ex-alpha of the Aurora Dragons, a revered leader who we never thought to question. Someone whose every instruction had to be followed. Right now, his warm smile tells me that we’re more alike than I expected. Beneath the tough outer shell of an elder who strives to maintain our existence is a man with a heart.

“And you’re willing to give up so easily?” He perks up a questioning brow. “The only one of my sons who fought for the rights of the humans?”

“I’ve tried, Father,” I sigh gloomily. “But she cannot love me anymore. I don’t blame her, but I cannot force her to live a life without love.”

“Try again,” he urges me, squeezing my shoulder. “That fire that broke out in you in the boardroom—take that fire to Sierra and convince her that she can love you again.”

I nod slowly as my resolve strengthens, and hope reignites in my being. “Thank you, Father.”

He smiles warmly at me, stepping aside when the elevator doors open. He nods at me when I step inside, offering silent encouragement as I mentally prepare myself to face Sierra again.

***

Equipped with a bunch of cherry blossoms, I knock on Sierra’s door. I’d been avoiding her ever since our escapade on the mountain. Wrongfully so, I do admit. It’d just been too painful to be around her when she couldn’t tell me how she truly felt.

I know it’s because she doesn’t love me anymore. Seven years is a long time, especially for a human. Even I, as a dragon shifter, had been wallowing in my grief when I left her with only a note to tell her that I was gone.

I’d spent countless restless nights mulling over what could have been, piecing together my shattered heart.

I can only imagine what she’d been through. It was only through great strength and magnificent resilience that she’d pursued her dreams despite her broken heart.

A heart she fixed in my absence so that she’d never allow herself to be hurt like that again. Somehow, I have to prove to her that she can trust me again. Love me again. I’d spent hours rehearsing what I would say to her, fueled by my father’s confidence that I could somehow change her mind, but when she called out from behind the door, I was faced with fear again.

“Come in,” comes her sweet voice, taking me aback as I take a deep breath to will myself to go ahead.

When I finally felt courageous enough to go inside, Sierra was on the balcony with her back turned to me.

I step inside and close the door gently behind me, a part of me resisting the urge to let her know it’s me. She’s probably expecting Kairo, but I asked my sister not to come to my quarters this evening.

“Oh,” she says when she glances over her shoulder. “It’s you.”

Those three simple words, said without a hint of emotion, have my courage crumbling to pieces. Frozen to the spot, I watch as Sierra turns back to the island without giving me another glance.

I seize the opportunity to approach her cautiously, picking up the pieces of my resolve on the way to the balcony. With the bunch of flowers behind my back, I clear my throat and ask,

“How have you been, Sierra?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I’d like to go back home,” she replies, staring out at the horizon. Her focus is set on the setting sun, its pretty orange hues a stark contrast to the gloominess I feel inside.

I wasn’t expecting that response. I don’t know what I was expecting, except that it wasn’t that she wanted to go home. I genuinely care about how she feels. Yet, that’s not the direction of our conversation.

Gulping, I keep the flowers behind me. The grim look on her furrowed brows tells me that she wouldn’t care that this time, I wouldn’t be afraid to admit that the flowers are for her.

The gesture seems pointless.

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