Page 58 of Dragons' Bride
Quinton's face rises, something like indignation flushing over him. "I am a prince of Massa'eve, not a stray cat, Kitterny."
I throw up my arms. The bite mark flares and pulls. "Well, you are giving me about the same amount of information as a cat. What is important about this bite?"
The tips of his silver scales flash. "It… I... made a bond."
I’d think this new contrite side of him adorable if I did not have a gripping sensation that he just turned the whole rutting world on its ears. "What kind of bond?"
"Claiming."
"Claiming what? Me? For what?" My head starts to spin. Quinton needs to get to the point. My bite mark heats and tingles as if it knows we are talking about it. Or maybe it is my mind playing tricks on me.
"For me." Quinton runs his hands over his face and when he meets my eyes, his again brim with apology. "I claimed you. I bonded us together."
"Like… siblings?"
The bite mark flares, offended.
“For stars’ sake,” Quinton snaps. “Mates, Kitterny. I claimed you as a mate.”
“A mate.” I parrot dumbly, trying to digest what he’s just said. What my body has somehow already known. “You claimed me as your mate.”
"Yes."
"You do know that I don't like you, right?" It's the only thing that I can think of saying as I try to sort through the stream of emotions washing over me too quickly to feel any one of them individually. I don’t like Quinton. He’s a self-destructing asshole who's hell-bent on destroying anyone who gets too close to him.
He lowers his head again and I wish he'd shout instead. An enraged murderous Quinton is a more familiar opponent than the vulnerable male sitting across from me. He nods. "Yes. I do."
I draw a deep breath, which comes out in shuddering bursts. The bite mark has quieted, apparently content now that it has been acknowledged. "I don't feel anything different,” I say.
The bite bites me.
I yelp.
“I meant, I don’t feel anything different about Quinton,” I clarify, for the bite's sake. That seems to appease it and the pinching pain eases into a soft kind of warmth. As if it, the bite and the bond and the magic, were a living breathing thing.
“Who are you talking to?” Quinton asks.
“Honestly, I have no idea.” I wave my hand at him. “If you bonded us as mates, shouldn’t I feel something different toward you? Like some pull to at least wanting you around?”
He shrugs one large shoulder. Unconcerned. Or feigning being so. "You are human. Maybe it goes one way, or maybe it will only start later.” He pauses, the muscles of his jaw clenching. “But I feel it."
"And what does it feel like?"
He thinks for a second, the scales on his temples shifting like fingers of coral. “An awareness, on a visceral level. Like a tether. I’m aware of where you are in relation to me – not that you are sitting in a chair, but that you are west of me and close by. There is also this bone-deep need to protect you. To destroy anyone and anything that threatens you.”
Well, that's better than a deep-rooted need to kill me. At least probably better. The dragons are damn confusing. I close my eyes and try to see if I too am aware of Quinton's general location. I'm not. I then visualize punching him in the nose. No ill effects. I glare at him. "So, does this mean we are stuck together for eternity?"
"No," says Quinton helpfully. "You are mortal, you'll probably die before eternity."
Right.
"There might be a way to break the bond.” He tries and fails at nonchalance. Fails at hiding the wince that those words bring him. I hate seeing him like this. Hate that being stuck with me is the cause. He straightens his back, pulling himself together. “We need to find a seer versed in such things. I’ve never had cause to look into it, so there is a great deal I don’t know."
"And until that point, what happens with the plan for me to return to the human lands?" I ask.
Quinton’s voice regains the confidence I am used to from him. "I’ll do nothing to stop you. Your choices are your own, regardless of my… lapse in control.”
That seems easy.
