Page 37 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

She shook her head. “It’s okay.”

Emon said carefully, “It seemed to me like it’s been getting worse since the healers came.” He hesitated. She was going to hate this next part. “Ever since Tristan started mucking around in your head. Are you sure he’s helping?”

Mayah pulled away from him. “He’s not making it worse, if that’s what you’re trying to say. He makes me feel better.” Her tone was fierce and definite.

Oh, fuck. She was starting to have feelings for the Elf Lord. “Be careful, Mayah,” he said quietly. “Don’t get too attached. He’s a wolf—and you’re just a job to him.”

She huffed. “I could say the same to you, big brother. She’s a wolf too—and she’s also here just to do a job.” He opened his mouth, and she added, “And if the words ‘that’s different’ come out of your mouth, I swear I’ll flame you until your nose melts off.”

His mouth twisted into a grin—or maybe a grimace. “Fine. We’ll both stay away from the wolves.”

It was better that way.

“Uh huh.” Mayah picked up a red shirt and held it up next to her chest. “Which of these shirts do you think I should wear when I go back later to check on the Elf Lord’s dick? I mean neck?”

Emon dropped his face into his palm. He was going to have to invent another god or goddess for his royal pantheon in the stars. One that was the patron god of hopeless causes. Because that’s what the prince and princess of Al-Maddeiri were.

Hopeless.

Chapter 19

Emon left Mayah, feeling even more unhappy and unsettled inside.

He started for the dining room, and then he changed his mind and headed for his study. And then he somehow found himself heading back to the roof, even though everything inside him told him he shouldn’t.

But she wasn’t there. The mattress was still there, but the blanket was gone. The rooftop was empty—except for the little boy sitting on top of the parapet on the far side of the roof, legs dangling, looking out at the valley.

Emon went over. “Hey, Brock,” he said. “What are you doing up here?” He couldn’t remember ever seeing him on the roof before.

“I don’t know,” Brock said matter-of-factly. “Something inside me told me I should come up here, so I came.”

Huh. Emon went over and leaned his elbows on the parapet next to him.

After a minute Brock moved over and leaned against his shoulder. “You’re sad,” he said. “And confused in your head.”

Emon thought about denying it, but what the hell. The kid could reach inside his mind; he’d know he was lying.

“Yeah,” he said.

Brock nodded. “Your dragon is mad at stuff. And he’s scared.”

Scared? No. “That’ll be the day.”

Brock shook his head. “Nope, he is. But he’s like my friend Xander Grumpy Panther, or my other friend Mr. Flynn Roary Lion. They don’t like to be scared so they get mad instead. Then they fight with people. Xander even wants to kill things lots of times.”

That was true. Emon knew both Flynn and Xander.

Emon’s dragon said to Brock,

Brock laughed. “You’re right, I’m not big enough to fight very good yet. I’m only six.”

Brock rested his head on Emon’s shoulder. “Can I tell you and your dragon a secret? I don’t really like to fight anyway. But when I’m really mad, my woof likes to kill rabbits and eat them all up. Maybe that would make you feel better too.”

He paused thoughtfully. “Except, you’d prob’ly need to kill something bigger. A sheep or a deer.” He elbowed Emon and added, “Be careful not to step on it though, or you’ll have to lick it off the ground like jelly.”

That made Emon laugh.