Page 38 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

his dragon said.

Brock said, “No, I don’t think little boy woofs taste very good. And anyways,” he added casually, “I know you wouldn’t eat me really because inside you’re a good dragon. You’re very fierce, like Kira the Warrior Princess, and grumpy like Mr. Flynn Roary Lion and Xander, but you’re good on your insides like they are.”

Brock just patted his arm.

“So what else do Xander and Flynn do when they’re mad?” Emon asked, fascinated by Brock’s take on the Bad Blood Crew.

Brock thought about that. “They don’t get mad as much, now that they have mates. Their mates hug them and love them lots, and then they feel better inside. Mates are magic. I’m thinking your dragon needs a mate.”

Emon felt like he’d been wandering through a field of wildflowers, and one of them had just reached up and stabbed him in the stomach. Even this little kid was trying to cage him.

Emon said kindly, “Well, there aren’t any female dragons around here that I’m not related to, so I’m thinking that probably won’t work for me.”

Brock said, “A dragon would be nice, but she wouldn’t have to be one. She could be a human or a panther or a wolf or anything.”

Emon felt the need to explain the facts of life to Brock. He seemed to live in a fairyland where everybody could be happy. “If she wasn’t a dragon, she would die a long time before I would,” he pointed out. “Then my dragon would be alone and sad for a long time.”

Worse than now, he almost said.

There was more silence while Brock contemplated that. Then he shook his head. “Mr. Flynn Roary Lion and Mr. Israel Magic Wolf mated with dragons. And they got dragon magic and now they’ll live a long time like their mates.”

Emon had forgotten that—if he’d ever paid attention to it in the first place. “Who says?” he asked carefully.

Brock shrugged. “Everybody knows that. But Pretty Princess Ashley said she would have mated with Israel Magic Wolf anyway because it would have been the best eighty years of her life and she would have been very sad without him.”

He picked up a pebble from the top of the parapet and dropped it over, watching it fall to the ground five levels below. “I always thought having a mate would be nice, when I grow up,” he added. “Like having someone who’s your best friend around all the time. And if they’re a true mate, they always love you a lot, so you’re never by yourself really, even when they’re not there.”

You’re never by yourself really, even when they’re not there.

Emon stood in the sunshine, Brock leaning on his shoulder, and somehow he really did start to feel better, even though his insides were still churning.

Finally he straightened up. “I think my dragon needs to go flying,” he told Brock.

The little boy nodded. “And maybe kill something and eat it up?”

Emon huffed a short laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Okay.” Brock spun around and jumped off the parapet onto the rooftop. “I have to go eat breakfast.” He paused and asked, “Can I see your dragon?”

Seriously? Clearly, the kid did not know what he was asking.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” he began.

his dragon assured him.

Brock was just standing, waiting.

You better mean that, Emon said to his dragon. Then he backed up and Changed.

Brock’s eyes grew to be about the size of dinner plates. “Wowie zowie,” he said. “You are super-awesome, Prince Scary Dragon. I really like your scales and your claws and your tail and everything!”

He curved his neck, bringing his head down toward the little boy. It was bigger than he was, but Brock didn’t seem at all intimidated.