Jumping to my feet and fleeing like a tongue-tied coward, I head to the back and shut the door behind me. Thumping my head on it a few times for good measure, I only manage to make my headache worse.
What the hell was I supposed to say? From the way I want to bury my face between your legs until you’re screaming my name? From jacking off until I black out? I don’t want her assuming that’s all I think about.
I love this woman so much it hurts. The last thing I want to do is make her doubt I’m sincere about that, that I’m no better than the bastards she’s met that only think with their dicks.
But my dick has so many good ideas, and he makes a really solid case of why I should listen to him.
“Damn it, maybe Kahl is right,” I mutter dejectedly.
It’s entirely possible that I’m not thinking clearly, that I can’t be trusted to make good choices where Saige is concerned while jacked up on hormones. Even if I’m starting to build up a little resistance to the pheromones she gives off, it’s clearly not enough.
Would I actually be able to walk away if he didn’t keep interrupting? Could I tell the difference between if it washerasking, or her dragon forcing her hand? She’s been ominously quiet the last week, barely fighting for control at all. Either Saige is getting better at subduing her, or her homicidal brain baby is saving her strength, lying in wait for when Saige’s guard is down.
Washing my hands, I rummage around in the medicine cabinet to try and find something for my head. My brothers and I have discussed enough theories that contradict each other, but they all circle back to it having something to do with our inner dragons waking up ahead of schedule in response to Saige. If typically men shift first when needing to save their mate, and then draw out her dragon, then it makes sense that hers waking up first threw things off.
“Like hers is sending out some sort of signal that she’s stuck and coaxing ours to the surface the hard way?” I glance in the mirror, trying to riddle through it. “But since she isn’t actually in danger, it’s not enough. Yet we all were agitated when she left the first time, knowing she could die and might never see her again, and that was enough for the flight bond to start clicking into place, setting everything in motion.”
I toss a couple of pills into my mouth, cupping my hand beneath the tap for a swig of water. Rubbing my temple I start pacing, waiting for the pressure in my head to subside so I don’t make Saige think anything else is wrong when I know I already fucked up and got her paranoid. I need to get control of myself again before I make things worse, so I can fix things so she doesn’t try to do something reckless to help. Hell, that’s what I would do if I were in her position. Any of us would, really, if we thought our family was struggling.
“It’s not sex.”
Gagging at the memory of finding out, at least we know from Ez’s experience that there’s more to actually mating than that. So even if I slept with Saige, it wouldn’t change things. We’d all still be struggling, but none of us are about to put our mate in a position to get hurt, so we need to circumvent that.
We could bite her and see what happens. The brothers-in-law shifted, then had to bite Ezra to make her shift. So if all of our dragons have already been triggered into consciousness, maybe a claiming bite could be enough to at least free hers. Then she could shift and bite us, and we’ll just do everything in reverse.
Feeling a bit calmer, I head back into the workshop, but there’s an awkward tension that wasn’t there before. Everyone’s busying themselves with their own work, and though it’s loud enough to warrant a lack of conversation, there’s a sense of unease that I hate.
When Kahl starts to head out the back door towards the secondary building, I follow. “What did I miss?”
He bites the inside of his cheek before sighing, swiping a hand down his face. “She tried to give her bracelet back to Kaid to sell and he flipped out. It was clear that it wasn’thim,” he emphasizes, “but he treated it like she was rejecting him.”
Grimacing, I can picture it playing out pretty clearly. “He took it like she didn’t think he could provide for her?”
As antiquated as the thought is, our instincts are driven by those primitive notions. Ever since the first time we stumbled across our mate, bloodied and broken, that driving force has only been more pronounced. It’s a hard adjustment to consciously go against that when tensions are high, to rein back control when there’s something screaming in your head, demanding to be heard.
Kahl starts rifling through the scrap bin, and I’m pretty sure he’s not actually looking for anything, just wanted space to think. “Fuck, Kins, you should have seen the look on her face.” He looks absolutely heartbroken, and I doubt he’ll get anything done until we find a way to resolve this.
“He didn’t yell at her?” I confirm, trying to curb my anger. Because no matter if he had control or not, that’s a hard line he sure as shit better not have crossed.
My brother’s already shaking his head, much to my relief. “No. But she took it like he only saw her as a pretty thing to keep around, that he didn’t actually consider her useful to the flight; just something to be taken care of like a pet.”
I wince like he smacked me, feeling like shit even though it wasn’t me. If she brought that up so quickly in response, she must have already been struggling with those thoughts, worrying about her place.
“Well, shit.”
He hums his response absentmindedly, picking through scrap with all of the grace of a kicked puppy. Explaining my idea in the bathroom just to fill the silence, he snorts.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’d go over well right now,” he laments, cursing as he gets a metal shaving embedded in his finger.
“Think it was worse because we keep pushing her away?”
He whips out his pocket knife, digging around for the splinter rather than go inside to ask Saige for the tweezers. “What are you talking about?”
Turning to lean against the bin I cross my arms, going with my gut instead of all of the mental anguish that’s been making me doubt myself. “The sex thing. You really don’t think she was feeling rejected every time she tried to start something and we shut her down or turned her away?”
He starts to protest, simply repeating his stance on the matter, so I cut him off. “It’s no wonder things escalated as quickly as they did. If she was already feeling uneasy about her place in our flight and then the first time she tried to help was shut down too, no wonder she lashed out.
“Put yourself in her place for a second. She let you live in her house, fed you, and cuddled up with you. But wouldn’t let you get a job because there were too many risk factors, so you were completely dependent on her for money, food, and clothes. You had to ask for anything you wanted, but felt guilty because you saw how stressed she was over work. Yet she didn’t want to sleep with you, and she didn’t want you to help come up with money, even though she admitted to being worried about it.”
