Page 47 of Fated to the Grumpy Dragon
Blinking furiously at the tears in my eyes, I buried my face in the mug until I got myself back under control.
“For some reason, that got to me. I knew he was in the middle of trying to renovate the house he’d grown up in but had never completed it. So, I got it in my head to continue his legacy. I quit my marketing job and moved there. That was five years ago. I got some of the renovations done but not the one I was looking forward to the most.”
“What was that?”
I smiled. “Free-range chickens. I wanted some free-range chickens to raise.”
Rhyse smiled back. We looked at each other like that for a few handfuls of heartbeats.
“I guess that’s probably all gone now,” I said, sobering abruptly. “If what you tell me is true about the war, all that area is now under dragon occupation.”
“Under occupation, probably,” Rhyse agreed. “But it wouldn’t surprise me that a tiny little place like that has barely noticed any difference. The lives of its people are probably not much changed. You may be surprised. But that probably explains something about your initial reaction to dragons.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were probably there then, or close to it. The first wave of the war. The first attacks. When it was all shock and awe. That would paint a bad picture in your head. One that might even be leaking through your memory blockage.”
“Maybe,” I said, leaning forward to set the now empty mug on the coffee table.
As I did, one of the logs in the fireplace let out a hugecrackand sparkle of flames. The unexpected noise startled me. My arm jerked, sending the mug flying.
I leaped from the couch, trying to snag it before it hit the floor, but Rhyse beat me to it. He calmly swiped it from mid-air and held it steady. A second later, I clumsily slapped his arm as my reflexes caught up with everything.
“Easy,” he said, using his other arm to snake around my waist and steady me.
“Thanks,” I said, looking up at him from where we were both crouched over the empty floor between the table and the fireplace.
I didn’t let go.
“You’re a little jumpy.”
He didn’t let go.
“Maybe a little on edge,” I admitted, trying not to focus on his arm around my waist or the burning desire to snuggle deeper into him.
A wave of warning and panic came over me out of nowhere. Inhaling deep through my nose, I pulled myself away, arms clutched to my sides. “I-I’m sorry,” I said, stepping back. “I …”
“Is everything okay? Did I hurt you?” Rhyse asked, rising up out of his crouch but staying hunched over so his head was closer to my level.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I am. I just … I need to think, okay? I can’t. I have to go—”
Ducking out from under him, I hurried across the room and down the hall to the bedroom Rhyse had given to me.
The door closed, and alone, I flopped onto the bed, breathing heavily, trying to keep from letting the panic overflow.
In my head, dragons swooped down, spewing fire and flame across everything and everyone. Was it a warning?
Or a memory?
Chapter Twenty
Rhyse
Thwack.
Thwack.
My eyes slowly peeled open.
