Page 44 of Rejected By Dragons

It was sullen silences and resentment and a constant knowledge that I was a burden, taking up space under an angry, bitter old woman's roof.

"They welcomed me in with open arms, too," Freya confides. "The first time Jett brought me home, after we found each other..." Her voice softens. When I glance at her, I find her gaze focused on her mate. The love that shines in her eyes makes her entire face light up. "Rhiannon was guarded at first, of course. Who wouldn't be, when their son brings home a woman wrapped in leather and knives?"

"Every mother-in-law's dream," I agree.

Fortunately, this particular woman wrapped in leather and knives hears my teasing for what it is. One corner of her mouth tilts up. "Exactly. But she never questioned our bond. She made me feel right at home, while Amy declared me the sister she never had."

My heart twists slightly. "Sounds like a pattern."

"It is." Freya turns to me. "They're good people."

Her brow lifts ever so slightly, and I fight to suppress the shiver that runs up my spine. She doesn't have to threaten me. It's immediately clear what will happen if I do anything to hurt them.

"They really are," I agree, holding her gaze.

She continues staring at me for a long moment before finally looking away. She brings her glass to her lips and takes a sip. "It sounds like you made quite the impression on Rhiannon today. Not that many folks speak both Fire and Stone Kingdom tongues."

I shake my head, glad to be back on at least relatively safe terrain. "My spoken language is basic at best. I read and write much better."

"No one speaks the ancient dialects," she says, dismissive, "unless they're showing off or trying to keep secrets. The symbology is far more useful."

"I'm glad it came in handy today."

"It may yet come in handy once again." She casts a glance at me out of the corner of her eye. "How would you feel about me putting your name in to assist with preparations for the summit?"

I suck in a rough breath. "I'd be honored. But you just met me..."

"That I did, but I'm a good judge of character. The rest of this family is, too." She holds up a hand to interrupt me before I can further demur. "We wouldn't ask you to handle anything top secret or sensitive to peace and security. But there's plenty of work to go around, and a passing knowledge of the visiting dragons' cultures could be useful."

Grateful for her frankness, I let out an exhalation and nod. "I'd be happy to help, then."

I smile in thanks to Jett, who reaches over my shoulder to set a plate in front of me. He leans in closer as he places one in front of Freya, too, and she hums in approval, her neck tipping to the side to accept a soft graze of his lips against her throat.

I force myself to look away. Casual intimacy radiates off of them. It's sensual, too, watching two mates share touches like that.

My own skin prickles, and my thoughts flit toward memories of Storm again, but I try not to dwell. I miss his smiles and his laughs, and dammit all, I miss touching him, too. I miss being touched.

An unwelcome warmth gathers, low in my belly.

While I've been wandering the desert these past couple of weeks, my sex drive has completely vanished. Now that I'm well-rested and fed and safe, apparently it's considering a return. Talk about inconvenient. I don't have time or energy to find a partner. Even if I wanted to get myself off, how would I manage it? Every sexual experience I've ever had has been with Storm, and I can hardly bear to think about him, much less fantasize about making love to him.

Blinking hard, I take a sip of my wine and try to keep my thoughts PG-13. Freya notices, though.

"Sorry," she says, once Jett is safely back on the other side of the room. "You know how fated mates can be. It's hard to keep our hands off each other."

"I can imagine."

Goodness knows I had a hard enough time keeping my hands off Storm, and clearly we weren't meant to be.

"You left someone behind," Freya observes. She says it matter-of-factly, but sympathy colors her tone.

"Yeah." I blink again, unwilling to get emotional about an asshole who refused to be seen in public with me, and who then just stood there and watched while I was exiled from our home for what we, together, had done. "Yeah, I did."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I turn my head to look at her. "It's ancient history."

Or at least someday soon, I tell myself, it will be.

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