Page 86 of Destined By Dragonblood
“Were they properly bonded?”
She shrugged and tore a bite of chicken off the drumstick in her hand and chewed. “I’ve read most of the books down in the library, so I know it takes three dragonblood to procreate. I’m assuming my fathers were Blood Born, otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
“Joseph and Dahlia were not, and yet we created your mother.”
“You’re wrong.” She speared another potato.
I sniffed. “And what gives you that confidence?”
“I…know things about people.”
Crossing my arms, I raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t believe me.” She didn’t ask a question.
“Are you reading my mind?”
A slow smirk curled one side of her lips. “Maybe.”
“And what am I thinking now?”
“Beneath your wondering over my parentage, my Blood Born gifts, and longing for a certain someone—no, two someones—you’re questioning how I lived and survived in these high reaches of the Grand Teton. Oh, and the truck? I upgraded years ago. It’s in the garage far below, but you’re well aware of how the winters are here.” She busied herself with her food, ignoring my stare and continuing to spew out answers without me asking. “I know these things because we share blood. And you, Grandpapa, are very chatty between the ears.”
Grandpapa.
My inner beast snickered.
“Grandfather,” I corrected.
She tilted her head to the side, finally looking me full on in the face. A soft huff left her mouth. “Whatever you say.”
I pressed my lips tight.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ll stop now. Feel free to ask your own questions. Hearing another voice here in the cavern is better than focusing on the whispers in your head.”
I wondered at the true strength of Primrose as my heart beat heavy in my chest. I had missed out on so much, so many years with my blood, the child I’d longed for—because I’d thought Elijah more worthy of me than the humans—or possibly not humans—I’d left behind.
A frown dented Primrose’s brow as she peered at me.
Although she could read through the haze of my mind, I needed physical contact with my blood to gain all the knowledge I longed for. My mouth watered for the food she’d cooked, but I held out my hand and waited, anxious to have even the slightest connection with my granddaughter so I might have some sense of her thoughts and emotions.
She stared at my palm, knife and fork still clutched in her white knuckles.
“Please,” I murmured, a slight flickering of energy between us in close proximity buzzing with anxiety. “You’re my blood, which means our inner dragons will be able to communicate what I’m struggling to fully comprehend—answer all the questions I have.”
“You don’t deserve my memories.”
“You’re right.” Shame flooded through me, causing my eyes to burn, but I kept my hand, palm up, on the table between us. “I have missed out on so much because of my own selfishness. If I had been aware—” My voice caught, and I swallowed the pain attempting to choke me. “I would never have left them. I’m begging you, please, allow me this gift.”
A heavy breath lifted Primrose’s chest and thinned her lips. She set the utensils down and slid her palm along mine.
Electrical currents shot up my arm, straight to my chest.
Our inner beasts sighed in unison, but rather than speaking, they shared memories with each other. Visions zapped through my head, and I grunted at the rush of emotions flooding my mind. All were of Dahlia and Primrose—not a single one of Joseph or the daughter I’d never met.
Countless trips to Jackson Hole in the old ’50 Chevy pickup, snowed-in winter nights with tea and storytelling. Puzzles and reading in the library deep beneath us. Cleaning together, washing laundry, and baking.
My old lover, gray and wrinkled, lying on a bed, breathing her last caused a tear to trickle down my cheek. Had she been my fated mate, my seed would have sustained her life.
