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Handing me a bowl and a spoon, he sits opposite me and watches me gulp down bowl after bowl. I haven’t eaten anything for hours and I’m thankful for every bite. I’m too hungry to be self-conscious, but I’m aware that Craven is staring at the way my lips round around the spoon, staring at the way I swallow.
The dragon watches too and I glance at the wall. It’s glaring straight at me, while remaining seated like a Grotesque on top of a building.
Both monster and man want something from me.
I inhale when a flutter rips through my lower belly. Flashing Craven a smile, I ask, “Have you lived in Frosted Falls for long?”
The small town is located in northern Virginia and it’s nothing out of the ordinary. It resembles similar towns in the area, apart from having an unusual amount of snowfall during the winters. We share the town with mortals, though we usually make ourselves invisible to their realm but sometimes we clash on accident.
It takes Craven a moment to respond as if he’s trying to remember how to speak, and he clears his throat. “Last couple of years.”
Interesting answer. I expected something closer to an era. “How old are you?”
A tint crosses his cheekbones. “Two hundred.”
Gawking at him, I struggle to restrain the shock. He’s about the same age as me. That’s so rare for a dragon and I’ve never met one so young.
He’s practically a newborn and now it makes sense why he doesn’t have a mate. It will probably take centuries until he finds her and I hope she won’t be the jealous type. I wouldn’t want any mate of mine to look at someone else the way Craven looks at me.
“Where’s your family?”
His expression tightens. “Scattered.” The look in his eyes turns dark. “Dragons, especially Draugar have a high mating drive. They scour the lands, seas and skies to find the one and my family doesn’t understand why I’m more reserved.”
I put my spoon down when he stares at me as if I’m the light at the end of a tunnel and it takes my breath away. I flash half a smile and I want him to touch me with those big hands. I wonder if they burn just as much as his gaze or if they feel good.
Inwardly I sigh. Whoever he takes as a mate in the end, will be a very lucky girl.
Valkyries on the other hand don’t have mates but they do have fated ones. Males who claim them and make them theirs to the end of time. We never recognize our fated one when we first meet them but if they’re the right one, we automatically accept the claim.
I really want to know more about Craven and his past but it’s none of my business. He’s also naturally secretive, a trait typical for his kind. “
“At least we have something in common. I know all about strained family relationships,” I murmur after a moment of awkward silence. “My father hates me.”
Craven’s brows curve in anger and he straightens, pulling away from the kitchen table and gives me a glance full of doubt. “I have a hard time believing that.”
Longing flares in me because that’s exactly the answer I wanted. Warmth pools in my lower belly and I want to coil myself around him.
“You’d be surprised. I’m considered a waste of space and I know my father’s ashamed of me. He thinks I’m a weakling.”
An angry growl rips out of Craven’s chest and his shadow starts pacing back forth. I gulp, clutching the table and wishing I could take back my words.
Heaving, Craven grits, “Did he say that to your face?”
“Many times. My dad’s a violent berserker, and he wanted his offspring to be a boy. A berserker like him.”
I look away. “But instead he got a girl. A Valkyrie, a pathetic swan maiden...”
The only thing I can do is roam the warzones, and bring human soldiers comfort with my invisible presence. Well...that and shift into a swan, but that’s not very impressive either.
Clenching his fists, Craven grits, “Your father’s perception has nothing to do with reality.”
“Yes, it does.” I inhale when I feel a small crack in my heart. Shame floods me so forcefully, I have to hold down an embarrassing sob. “And I wish I knew how to fight back. If my father had seen how easily you overpowered me, he would’ve full on disowned me.”
Swiftly turning around, I walk over to the sink and wash up my bowl. I can feel Craven brimming behind me, or buzzing is more like it and I respond to it, wanting to run over and glue myself to him but we don’t go together. He needs someone who can be his match and that’s not me.
“You don’t need to know how to fight back,” Craven growls heatedly and I gasp. “I’ll do it for you. I can protect you better than anyone.”
First I feel a relief so strong that my knees almost cave. But then I’m reminded that once upon a time my misogynist father protected me too, until he got fed up with me.
