Page 32 of Rejected By Dragons

"What did you find? What happened? Tell me everything," she demands.

The corner of Jett's mouth quirks up. "See for yourself, sister mine."

As he gestures toward me, the girl releases him and turns her gaze my way. She's about my age, with pale skin and deep brown eyes. With her coloring--and with zero obvious signs of her being a dragon shifter--I never would have pegged her for Jett's sister, but there's a passing resemblance, once I know to look for it.

"Hi," she says, coming right over to me. I flinch when she opens her arms. Too late, I realize it's to give me a hug.

"Um. Hi."

She holds up her hands. "Sorry, got it, not a hugger."

"Most people aren't, when it comes to perfect strangers, Amy," a voice says from behind her.

I look up to find another, slightly older woman approaching us. She's tall and slim and drop-dead gorgeous, her complexion fair and her shoulder-length hair a mix of rich umber and silver. Her dark eyes have a reptilian glint to them, and raw power rolls off of her in waves. As I look between her, Amy and Jett, the family resemblance is instantly clear.

"You must be..." I start, even though it's absolutely none of my business.

"Our mother," Jett confirms. He glances at her with mock annoyance that hides a deep fondness. "You and Amy were both supposed to stay inside until I confirmed the visitor poses no threat."

Amy scoffs. "You wouldn't have brought her here if she were a threat." She narrows her eyes at me. "You're not a threat, are you?"

"Oh, she's definitely a threat," their mother says thoughtfully. I squirm inside as our gazes meet. There's something penetrating to her stare. Like she can see more deeply into me than makes me comfortable. Whatever she's looking for, she must find it, because she nods. "But not to us. Isn't that right, dear?"

"I don't want to hurt anyone," I promise.

"Well, that settles that." Amy claps her hands. "I'm Amethyst, but you can call me Amy."

"I'm Ember," I tell them. My throat feels raw. How long has it been since someone has been so open and friendly to me?

Then again, stuck in Wynrath Crest, it's not as if I had a chance to meet very many people.

I suddenly can't remember why I stayed there, abused and miserable for so long.

Oblivious to the moment I'm having, Amy gestures at her mom to continue the introductions. "This is Rhiannon. You've clearly already met Jett."

"And I'm Freya."

I turn to find a platinum blonde bombshell of a dragon shifter striding toward me. I'm about ninety-five percent straight, but even my jaw wants to drop at her knockout figure. She's not only hot, but clearly a badass, too. Her hair is chin-length on top but buzzed on the side, and her pale skin is decorated with colorful tattoos that highlight the dips and ridges of pure muscle. Studs gleam in the shell of her ear, and her red leather pants and black tank top only add to her general aura of being someone you shouldn't mess with.

She comes to a stop in front of me. Jett moves to stand by her side.

Oh.

Even if Jett hadn't told me he'd found his True Mate, I'd know. The energy of the bond between the two shifters is so strong it tugs at my chest, permeating the air. Old legends I've heard of warrior mates drift back to me--magically linked pairs who laid waste to their enemies with fire, claw and sword.

I swallow hard, remembering how King Zephyr and Fury always promised that the Air Kingdom's security lay in vigilance and fear.

I'd take love and a couple of fated mate champions, any day of the week.

With absolute confidence, the new woman, Freya, tilts her chin up and regards me. To Jett, she says, "This is the one who set off the wards?"

The ripples of light and heat I felt moments before my car broke down make sense now. Strong protective magic surrounds this place, alerting the citizens to intruders.

"She was alone," Jett reports. "The wards remain intact."

Freya nods. Addressing me this time, she smiles, but the hint of warmth in her expression doesn't make her any less fierce. "I hope you'll forgive my partner's dramatic tendencies. They do scare away some of our visitors."

"Really?" I ask, dripping sarcasm. I'm getting a little bit of my breath back, and with it, apparently, a healthy dose of sass. "You don't say."

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