Page 71 of Dragon’s Rebel

Bad people would come. Bad things would happen.

And the bad people had already been there. They’d hurt Mom and Dad, and now there was nobody left to watch out for Sissy except Rebel. She had to keep the bad people from coming for Tempe, so she told the sheriff the wrong names and the wrong ages. That she didn’t know where she lived.

“Rebel?” Thorne touched her on the arm, and she jumped. She hadn’t even seen him come over; she’d been lost in the past. “Do you remember something?”

She shook her head. “Nothing besides that,” she said. “Lying about our ages. And telling them I was Rebel, not Rebecca, and Tempest was Sissy.”

Thorne said, “We need to get out to Milldale and find the site of the trailer. Today, if possible. Are you okay to go?”

Rebel stared at him. She wasn’t okay. She didn’t want to ever, ever go back to that place. And she didn’t want Tempest to go either.

But what choice did she have?

But when they went to leave, Tempest wouldn’t come out of her room. She said she was too sick to go.

Rebel went in, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You look like hell,” she said.

Tempest was even paler than she’d been at breakfast, and there were deep shadows under her eyes. “This isn’t just a hangover,” Rebel said.

“I don’t know what it is,” Tempest said. “But I don’t want to go.”

Rebel looked over at the night table. Tempest’s notebook and her sketch pad were both there, along with a whole pack of colored pens. “Did you see something?” she asked.

Tempest shook her head. “I haven’t drawn or written anything. I haven’t seen any stories. It’s just a feeling. A bad feeling, and it tells me I should stay here.”

Rebel brushed her sister’s hair back. Her forehead was clammy, but there was no fever. “Maybe it’s time we told the others about your stories.”

Tempest pressed her lips together in a way Rebel was very familiar with. “No! We can’t tell anyone.”

“Okay,” Rebel said, not wanting to upset her any more. “We’ll talk about it later.”

She left the room and went out into the hall, where the others were waiting. Tyr, in fact, was practically plastered against the door. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. Just hungover.”

“I’m staying here with her,” he said immediately.

Rebel eyed him. He would take care of Tempest better than anyone except her—if he didn’t drive her crazy with his hovering.

“You’ll let her rest, right? And you won’t let anything happen to her? And if Corwyn or the hellhounds come, you’ll throw your body between her and them, right?”

Tyr rolled his eyes. “Yes, no, and yes.” He paused, and his face grew serious. “I’m her mate, you know,” he said. “You have to learn to trust me sometime.”

“No, I don’t,” Rebel said. “And you’re not her mate until she says you’re her mate.”

Tyr sighed.