Page 21 of Dallas

9

The announcement of it thrilled me no more than it thrilled her, but the evidence was right there in front of me.

I’d known it the moment she connected to Callie. As if a veil had lifted from in front of my eyes and I could suddenly see clearly. Everything made perfect sense for the first time since we’d crafted our shaky alliance with the coven.

She was meant to be mine.

And I didn’t want her.

I didn’t want the first thing to do with her, no matter what my dragon thought he wanted.

She is ours, he rejoiced, relieved to have finally found what he’d been waiting ages to find.She is ours. She belongs to us.

Lucky us, I thought with a bitter grimace.

She froze when I said she was my fated one, and hadn’t moved yet. I could feel the storm in her brain, as she’d described it, a torment of half-formed thoughts and fear and sensation. Like a tornado. I’d asked her about it in an effort to understand what I sensed, because I’d picked up on it immediately. The moment she’d let down her guard, everything she thought and felt and suffered was open to me.

What an unholy snarl it was.

“Did you hear me?” I asked in an effort to draw her out. “I could repeat myself, if need be.”

“No need.” Her mouth hardly moved. Her eyes had an empty, drawn look. Her face was devoid of color.

“You couldn’t sense it any more than I could, with your shield up,” I explained. “With your energy focused on that, there was no room for anything else.”

She winced. “Stop talking. Just stop talking, please. Give me a minute to make sense of it for myself without your voice going on and on.”

“Don’t take it out on me. I have no control over this.”

“Stop. Talking.” She closed her eyes, tipping into the back seat.

Yes, this was my fated mate. This witch who loved her sister enough to take on her pain, but not enough to suffer her taking the blood of a dragon if it meant removing that pain entirely and ensuring she recovered well. Anything but that.

She hated me that much. Not only me, but all of my kind. And I was supposed to welcome her into my life? I was supposed to make her part of me? What was the chance of a future with someone who hated me so deeply?

No matter how the dragon growled—in my ear, it seemed, always present and always striving to turn my attention and affection toward her—I had not the time to heed him. There were much more vital, life-or-death matters at stake.

“All right,” I breathed, more to myself than to her. She was still half-lying in the back seat, trying to gather herself. I sensed her making a few attempts to shield herself, like radio static breaking into my thoughts, but it was no use. If she wanted to keep Callie in peace, resting as comfortably as was possible given the situation, she had to focus her attention in that direction rather than in mine.

There had to be a way to keep us safe and somewhat comfortable until help arrived. This SUV certainly wouldn’t do for long. There was room in the back if we removed the luggage or moved it up to the front seat, but that would mean sharing an enclosed space with Hecate for an indefinite length of time.

Not my idea of fun. Nowhere close.

There was no going out in the storm, however. I was fairly certain the sound of falling rain would drive me mad by the time this was over. I would lose my mind, and these witches would watch it happen.

“I’ve given this some thought.”

Hecate’s announcement from behind me was almost enough to make me laugh. She’d given it thought? What was there to think about? But naturally, she’d think she had some say in what fate had set before us. She was well out of her depth, that was clear.

“You’ve thought about this?” I studied her in the mirror. Beautiful, of course. I could admit this, even if the very sight of her made me want to strangle her. Deep in thought. Thinking she was in control.

“Yes, I have, and you know it,” she whispered, eyes narrowing in what she must’ve thought was a dangerous, threatening manner.

“Pray tell. What was your conclusion?” This would be amusing, at least.

She folded her hands on her lap. Long, slim fingers ending in neat, trimmed nails. No nonsense, much like the rest of her. “There’s nothing we can do about being here together. There’s nothing we can do about this mate situation, either.”

“This mate situation.”

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