Page 83 of Destined By Dragonblood
After having experienced Elijah’s comforts, however, I realized how badly I had ignored what was my birthright, even if the mountain surrounding me hadn’t ever felt like home.
She approaches.
The scent of female strengthened in my nose at the same time my inner beast spoke. I flitted my focus toward the dark hallway directly ahead of me. A sense of familiarity lay beneath her flowery scent, causing my stomach to tighten.
She materialized like a wraith, a smaller lantern in her hand glinting highlights of gold in the pale hair shimmering down to her waist, a Burmese dog heeling at her side. Light brown eyes took me in from head to toe without a hint of fear or concern over my nakedness. She was tall and curved like the women I used to be drawn to prior to meeting Ashley. I remained upright and unmoving, hands at my sides as the young woman turned off her smaller lamp, set it atop the table, and came to a stop a dozen or so feet away from me.
“Who are you?” I asked, keeping any trace of violence over her trespassing from my voice since her presence wasn’t any threat to me. Neither was the cute dog, considering how it seemed to smile up at me, its tongue lolling out the side.
The young woman’s gaze flicked over my face as though categorizing every pore and line. “Primrose Cadet.”
Cadet…Dahlia.
The blood seeped from my upper body, leaving me lightheaded. “Dahlia,” I heard myself whisper even though the woman couldn’t still be alive—could she?
“My grandmother.” Head cocked to the side, the young woman continued to study me. “She was ninety-four when she passed, and even on her deathbed, she hoped you would return. That was four long years ago.”
“Joseph?” I managed to ask past the lump in my throat.
“My grandfather.” Her gaze flitted down over my nakedness, but I couldn’t read a single thought or feel any energy emanating from her.
My beast lay silent, even though I could sense the whimper he withheld since I wouldn’t yet allow us to grieve over the loss of our old lovers.
The dog woofed and peered up at Primrose.
She absently touched its head, trailing fingers over its fur. “You are Dolyn, aren’t you?”
I nodded, unsure what to think or how to stop the rush of emotion swarming my chest. Too much had been tossed into my face in mere minutes, and I floundered to find any sense of calm.
“Go on.” She encouraged the dog. “His name is Tiggy,” she told me as he ambled close to sniff fingers I hadn’t realized I’d stretched out.
Swallowing hard, I knelt, taking his face in my hands. “Who’s a good boy?” I asked, my voice ragged.
“The summer before grandmother passed, I felt a driving urge to get this creature. She named him—for you.”
“Tiggy,” I rasped.
“Short for Antigone,” Primrose said. “It’s Greek and means worthy of one’s parents.”
A tear slid down my cheek, and Tiggy whined as though experiencing my pain. His wet tongue on my face offered comfort when I needed it most.
“I had a dog when I was a young boy,” I whispered—to the animal or Primrose, I wasn’t sure. “My alpha father had it killed because he said loving the lesser being as I did would make me weak.”
“He was wrong.” Primrose’s voice wavered along with mine, proving she wasn’t as stoic as she projected.
“Father made me focus on growing stronger, not soft toward cute, fluffy creatures that were beneath us.” I murmured the words that had hurt more than any fist.
Tiggy rubbed his nose into my chest, and I scratched behind his ears before wrapping my arms around him. “Such a good boy,” I whispered against his fur.
“He was meant to be yours.”
I pulled away from the dog and stood, eyeing the woman before me. She wore billowy pants and an old sweater that looked homemade. No frills—lace, jewelry, or makeup—adorned her body, but she was as beautiful as her grandmother.
Memories flooded through me
Dahlia and Joseph chained in the playroom far below where Primrose and I stood, sweat and cum dripping off their bodies. The soft sighs as they had come down from climaxing beneath me always made me hunger for a deeper connection. The two humans had relieved my itch for fucking but hadn’t been able to fulfill my need for the mates and offspring I’d longed for.
Elijah and I had never agreed to exclusivity, so I never told him about the two lovers I kept across the country for the first half of our relationship. I’d visited with Joseph and Dahlia in the early sixties in one last attempt to make them mine.
