Dragon Bound (Elder Races #1)(89)

“That would help both of us,” he said. Lines bracketed his mouth.

She studied him. “Five days ago, more or less—at least for us—I was in danger of my life and on the run from you. Now my clothes are in your bedroom, we’re sharing a bed and I’m worried about how I can fit in here. That’s aside from all the rest like Urien and Goblins and Elven relations. My past feels like it’s gone. I have no friends here. Tricks doesn’t count since she isn’t staying. The future has no definition, and it feels like whatever we’re doing hasn’t got any context or foundation to it.”

“You’re right, your past is gone,” he said. “You will make friends here if you want to. As far as the future is concerned or any possible context or foundation we may have, you’ve got to make some decisions. I think you’d better make them pretty fast.”

He spoke with the same direct incisiveness as he had when he told her how to negotiate the dangers of their capture by the Goblins. Instead of being put off by his attitude, a deep quiet settled into place inside. She squeezed his hand, and his fingers returned the pressure.

“All right, what kind of decisions do you think I have to make?”

“Rune thinks I may be mating with you,” he said, the dragon still looking out of his eyes. “I think he may be right.”

Mating with her. All the air left the room, and her earlier dizziness came back in full force.

She may not know much about the intricacies of living in full Wyr society, but she knew that Wyr didn’t always mate. When they did it was for life. It happened to her mother, who had bonded with a mortal man. After he had died, she had held on to life for the sake of her daughter, but when Pia was no longer quite so dependent on her she lost the will to live and faded from this world.

“Oh God.” Her face felt bloodless. “You can’t mate with me. I’m a mortal half-breed. It’ll kill you.”

“That does not appear to be a relevant factor.” He sounded composed as ever but he gripped her hand so tight she couldn’t feel her fingers. “Besides, what you are seems to be in some question. Was your mother mortal?”

“Not until she mated with my father and he died.” She rubbed her forehead. “She held on for a long time. He died before I was old enough to remember him. When I was little I didn’t know any better. But when I got old enough to take care of myself, I could feel her slipping away. She wasn’t interested in life anymore. It was a terrible thing to watch.”

“If you are able to come fully into your Wyr abilities, you will be whatever your mother was.”

“But what if I can’t?” she whispered, staring at him with horror darkening her eyes.

“It is what it is, Pia.” He looked as unafraid as ever. “Everything has an end. Even I will end one way or another. At the moment it’s beside the point. If you want to leave my bedroom or my life, you’d better decide now. I’ll do my best to try to let you go. If that is really what you need. I can’t guarantee anything. It goes against all my instincts, because you’re mine.”

His growl shook the floor.

It shook her too. She tugged at her hand and after a moment he let her go. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the olive oil and bits of garlic congealing on her plate. The silence between them became weighted, sulfurous.

The quick rhythm of booted heels sounded in the hall. Graydon rounded the corner to the dining room in jeans and a Harley Davidson jacket. “Hey, boss, I got what you wanted.” He stopped and stared from Pia’s distressed face to Dragos’s darkening expression. “I’ll just come back—”

“No.” Dragos stood in a swift movement. “Give it to her and stay with her. I’m going for a flight.”

A flight, at a time like this? She looked up and said, “Dragos, no.”

His reaction was immediate. He jerked to a halt and looked at her.

“The Fae King,” she said. “He can still trace you. It’s not safe.”

She could tell it was not what he wanted to hear from her. The darkness came back to his face. He said with deliberate brutality, “I’m a lot safer on my own.”

She flinched and looked away.

Dragos looked at Graydon. “I’ll be in telepathic range.” He strode out.

“What does that even mean?” she said. “Telepathic range. Anybody I know with the ability can only speak if they’re within a few feet of each other.”

“Dragos has a range that’s more like a hundred miles,” Gray told her.

She pushed her plate setting away and put her head in her hands.

Graydon sighed and came to sit beside her.

“I’m sorry,” she said into her hands. “I know you don’t want to be here.”

“You shut that up,” he told her. “I’m fine with being here. I just think it would be better if Dragos were here instead.”

She looked at the gryphon over her fingers. He had picked up the bottle of wine and was eyeing the liquid left inside, his weathered features contemplative. The bottle was about a third full. He tilted back his head and drank it all down.

She said, “Feel better?”

“No,” he said. “That would take a bottle of scotch. Or two. Been one of those days, know what I mean?”