Rhain nodded once, solemn as a judge. “A useful clarification.”
My pulse thundered in my ears. “Werewolves never have this problem,” I muttered. “It always just works.”
Dominic caught my chin gently between his fingers and turned my face toward his. Some old, possessive part of him had risen to the surface and wanted my full acknowledgment before it made its complaint.
I looked at him. “What?”
His expression had gone very still in a way I was beginning to understand meant the dragon had been consulted and had returned a strong opinion.
“Werewolves,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You are comparing us to dogs.”
“No. Wolf shifters.”
Rhain’s mouth twitched.
Dominic did not blink. “Dragons are not dogs.”
“I did notice the wings.”
“Dragons are civilized.”
I stared at him.
He stared back, grave and offended and still sitting beside me like he had not just implied that the superior species was the one currently failing to communicate essential mating information without a hallway intervention.
“Dominic.”
“Yes.”
“I have just been told by Yuki Ashenmere that your very civilized species has been passing critical bond protocol through whispers for several centuries because you are all too private to write down the sexy medical instructions.”
Rhain looked down at his hands.
Dominic’s jaw shifted. “That is not ideal,” he said.
“No. It is not.”
“But we are still better than dogs.”
I covered my face with one hand.
Rhain laughed, which was somehow both sweet and deeply unhelpful.
“Do not encourage him,” I said into my palm.
“I would never,” Rhain said, still laughing.
Dominic’s hand settled at my back, warm and steady, the territorial edge in him turning useful.
“You closed your eyes in the chair after council,” he said. “Your pulse did not drop. I read it as adrenaline. I did not know it was the bond.”
I lowered my hand. “You couldn’t have known.”
“Yuki could have told me at any time in the last seventy years.” He looked toward the door, and something very cold crossed his face before he put it away.
