Page 42 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

“What the hell is that?” she demanded.

“It’s an orphaned lamb,” he said, holding it out. “And it’s hurt.”

“I can see that.” She was already spreading a clean towel on one of the examining tables. Suddenly she stopped and impaled him with her gaze. “You didn’t eat its mother, did you?”

Emon gaped at her. “Of course I didn’t.”

his dragon added.

Emon ignored him. “I think one of the Wild Dragons from up at the mine killed her.”

That startled her. “You have other dragons living here?”

“Well, yeah.” It hadn’t occurred to him that she didn’t know. “There’s a vein of a rare mineral in the mountains that can only be mined by dragons. They’re… parolees, I guess you’d call them? I don’t exactly invite them over for dinner.”

“Maybe you should,” she said as he laid the lamb down on the table. “Then they wouldn’t eat your sheep.”

She’d clearly never met Zakerek.

He watched as she began examining the lamb, her hands deft and gentle. Emon remembered the feel of them on his skin, the feel of her lips, and he was attacked with a deep surge of longing.

But even though he was right next to her, it felt like she was a million miles away.

She walked away to get some gauze and disinfectant, and his whole body felt cold. He wanted to pull her to him and make the warmth come back, but she wouldn’t even look at him.

All her attention was on the lamb. She began dabbing the lamb’s cuts with disinfectant. It struggled, and Emon put his hand gently on its head, stroking its ears. It settled down, sucking on his finger.

Trish snorted. “Apparently, it thinks you’re it’s mommy. Try to keep it calm while I treat it, would you?”

He kept stroking the lamb, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t idiotic. And wouldn’t piss her off more.

Nope. Nothin’.

Trish was quiet for a few minutes, cleaning the lamb’s wounds and bandaging some of the deeper ones. She felt its legs and seemed to decide the hurt leg wasn’t broken, but she put a tiny support bandage on it.

Finally she said, “You walked all the way here from the field with him?”

It was only a mile or so. “Yeah.”

Trish flicked him a sidelong glance. “The farm would have been closer.”

“Yeah.”

“Or, Mayah could have fixed him all up with her insta-healing.”

“I guess.”

“But you brought him to me instead.”

“Yeah…” Too late, he saw where this was going.

“Why?” She’d finished cleaning the lamb, and stared right at him.

She was angry. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her body. Angry, and hurt. And…

He remembered what Brock had said, and forced himself to see further.

She was afraid.