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So she was a puppet, then.
He thinks for a moment. I suppose she was. I did not think of it that way. All I knew was that I was honored to be among the Queen's Guard.
"You were chosen for it, then?" I let my fingers play over his skin idly.
Yes. I defeated many other males to take a position of honor at her side. Being in the Queen's Guard is like…mated but not. Our lives are devoted to protecting the queen. We are not supposed to take mates. He hugs me closer to him, his arms tight around me. I would have been shamed for choosing a female over my queen. Shamed for choosing personal happiness instead of the honor of serving her.
"Well, fuck her, then."
Mhal is surprised at my vehemence. You do not understand. I was raised up from the ranks of a commoner to serve at her side. It should have been a great honor but I betrayed it.
"You did not," I say hotly, sitting up. I scowl down at him. "I don't know why you're beating yourself up over this. Did you choose to go through the Rift? Did you choose to go crazy? Because I don't think these other dragons did. Did you choose to have a Salorian take over your mind? Did you choose to come into my dreams?"
He gazes up at me thoughtfully. I did not choose any of that. As for your dreams, you called to me.
"I did?"
I heard you crying for help. So I came. It seemed like the most natural of things. He reaches for my hand and presses my knuckles to his lips, kissing them. Perhaps I had scented you before and the bond was already forming between us. Whatever it is, I do not regret it. I would choose to mate you, no matter what others think.
"As long as you don't trash talk yourself," I grumble, slightly mollified.
I do not have regrets. I am pleased with my mate. I only tell you this because others would see my actions as shameful.
"Then fuck them, too."
Amusement rolls through Mhal's mind. What happened to my shy, gentle little human mate?
"She mated a drakoni," I say with a toss of my hair. "And he gave her fires. And an attitude. Because she happens to think he is amazing and strong, and she wants him to think so, too."
His eyes are pure gold as he gazes at me. Such vehemence for one as disloyal as me.
I point at him. "Stop that. You're not disloyal. Your loyalty is to me and mine to you. The queen's not here. The situation's changed. There's nothing wrong with adapting. Would she rather you die than mate with me?”
His amusement grows deeper. Yes.
"Then she's a real jerk and I'm glad you're here with me and not with her."
I am, too. He pulls me down for another kiss, all warmth and fire. I am glad I am here with you, in this time, in this place. It is not my chosen land, but it has my clever, wonderful mate in it, so it cannot be all that bad. What about you? You have left your human hive behind.
All I need is you, I tell him, and I mean it. Fort Dallas was never my home. It was just a shelter, a place that fed me and protected me after my father died. I'll miss Manda and Rachel and the camaraderie we had, but Rachel is with Jurik now, and Manda is trying to marry Daniels. Nothing would have kept us together.
I'll miss them, but I've gotten something much better in return—a home.
I am your home? Mhal asks, surprised and pleased at the thought that drifts through my mind.
You are.
And nothing else matters.
25
Three Weeks Later
JENNY
"You sure you don't want a cape?" I twirl my newest creation around my shoulders, grinning down at the drakoni male sprawled in our bed. "I know you hate pants, and I figure this will protect your modesty."
Amusement slides through his thoughts, his mouth pulling into a silent grin. Mhal has one hand behind his head and he watches me as I prance about in the cape and make a fool of myself. Why would my modesty be in danger?
"You know. In case some other woman or dragon showed up and I'd have to hide your fine body from their prying eyes." I wrap it tightly around me and mock-scowl in his direction. "They're not allowed to look at what belongs to me."
His amusement grows louder, and it makes me act up all the more. I twirl like I'm a dancer, letting the cape flow around me. It's green on the outside—three different types of green fabric—with a bright purple patchwork underneath. Most of the clothes we've scrounged fall heavily into the “not practical” category and I've decided to have fun with them. I saunter toward him, shaking the cape like I'm some sort of salsa dancer of old and it's my ruffled skirt.
