Page 54 of Rejected By Dragons

Unfathomable disappointment wells up inside me. I want to snap at her. To step forward and push her out of the way. Whatever is in there is meant for me. I can feel it--a warmth that starts in my toes and curls outward through my bones.

The possibility of danger continues to prickle just beneath my skin, but I can't shake the sense of rightness I have, looking at the plain wood slats of the crate.

"What is it?" I manage to grit out.

"Nothing that concerns you," she promises, and for the first time, a hint of unease colors her tone. She steps between me and the crate.

My line of sight is broken, but its hold on me is not.

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Meeting her gaze, I force myself to shrug. To act as if every cell inside of me isn't tugging me toward the contents of that box. "Okay."

"Freya?" she calls, not taking her eyes off me.

Freya's clear on the other side of the cavernous space; she's literally the farthest away of anybody here.

She pops her head out from behind a set of shelves immediately. "Rhiannon?"

"Take this crate to my office, please."

Freya's brows pinch, but she sets aside whatever she was working on to do as Rhiannon asks. As she hauls the crate away, I follow it with my gaze, still trying not to betray how deeply it's sunken its hooks into me. Which is probably stupid. If it really is dangerous, I should be open about the fact that it's calling to me.

I part my lips, ready to do precisely that, when there's a shifting inside of me. An ache between my shoulder blades and the twisting slither of a tail. My dragon lifts its head, and I can feel her, peering through my eyes.

My heart races even faster. This is the closest my dragon has ever felt to the surface of my skin. I wait for the feeling to pass--it always does. But she remains right there, so close I can feel her scales and smell the ash on her breath.

I blink, and my vision clears, but nothing else has changed.

"Are you all right?" Rhiannon asks, wary and on guard.

"Never better." My voice sounds as if it's coming from a long, long ways away. I clear my throat, but the new depth to my tone doesn't fade.

Amy sidles up next to her mother. She glances between the two of us. Quietly, she suggests, "Maybe it's time we take a break."

Rhiannon continues to stare at me appraisingly. "Agreed."

* * *

Taking a break changes nothing.

We all pack up what we were doing and head to the residence portion of the building, where Rhiannon makes tea and keeps shooting me wary glances. I think I do a pretty good job of acting like everything is fine, but I'm not sure I'm a reliable narrator right now.

While my dragon's presence was startling at first, she quickly becomes a background hum in my mind. I'm aware of her, for sure, but she doesn't take my breath away, just by existing.

That's not to say I'm not pre-occupied. She's flirted with rising to the surface of my consciousness before, but she's never been this solid or close. If there were a field of flames before me now, would she leap forward and take hold of me? My bones feel ready to explode; my skin is warm and prickling. Could I unleash her at this very moment?

The thought is too tantalizing. It's almost hard to breathe. How many times have I wished for that? And now it feels so close I can almost taste it.

As I accept a cookie and a cup of tea, I curl my hand into a fist. I dig the ridges of my nails into the scar on my palm. It burns almost as brightly as it did the night I stood in the fire at the Emergence and refused to be moved.

There's still something missing, though. Something inside of me that needs to be unlocked.

And I'm pretty fucking sure the key is in that crate.

* * *

Rhiannon trusted me. Rhiannon warned me.

Growling in frustration, I wad up my pillow and throw it across the room. It lands with a soft thud, and I hold my breath, listening for the sounds of anybody stirring in the house. There's not so much as a squeak--of either a floorboard or a mouse.

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