Page 16 of His Fate
Keep it together, Josephine. Don't go to pieces just because the hottest man you've ever seen seems to be interested in you.
I hide my smile at that and keep listening.
You don't have time for him. You've got obligations and responsibilities. Not to mention when he finds out about what you do at home he won't want to deal with it. They never do.
What she does at home? Strange.
Just because he's been kind doesn't mean he will be understanding. They never are. He could be just as selfish as the rest of them. You need to get it together and stop this now before you get hurt again. Priorities. Responsibilities. Stay smart, stay sweet, stay safe.
Posey glances at me with a sad smile and moves to open the door. "I need to get back. The Sunday school rush is coming and I have to help Kady in the kitchen before Ronny gets slammed."
Just let Joyce have him. He's too beautiful for you anyway. He'll be better off with someone like her. He isn't yours and never will be.
"I'll have Ronny bring out enough tarts for you and your brothers. On the house."
My heart aches at her inner turmoil and a little anger flares over the way she seems to view herself but I nod.
Then ask, "Do you work at the pub tonight?"
"No." Posey shakes her head. "I only work Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at Bill's. Tonight I'm hoping to go to bed as soon as I get home."
"And how do you intend to get home?"
She shrugs. "I'll see if Kady can give me a lift. Or Ronny." She chuckles, the sound musical but empty. "He just got his license so he's always looking for a reason to drive."
"I'll take you home."
My words are rewarded with a genuine smile briefly before it falters. "Thank you, but no. I'm on until seven and I don't want to inconvenience you."
Then she turns and goes back inside.
After staring at the door to the building far longer than acceptable, my heart heavy and head unsure of how to proceed, I join my brothers for breakfast. We devoured the pinwheels and the tarts. Andrej ordered two dozen of each, as well as something called asample sixtythat is apparently normally sent out to large functions with a few of each of the various baked goods Kady creates.
The ride home is silent, my brothers happy but quiet while relishing their bellies full of sugar and caffeine that was required to continue their day. I, on the other hand, cannot seem to get past my mate’s inner dialogue.
Why does she view herself so poorly?
What responsibilities does she have that make her feel as though she does not deserve to be wooed and loved?
Who are these selfish and not understanding people that have hurt her?
Why the fuck is she so willing to give me up to that blonde harpy if she feels as though I am hers?
So many questions without any answers.
I retire to my wing but find myself restless, my dragon even more so over thoughts of not seeing our mate. He wants her, needs her, just as badly as I do and he understands her thoughts even less. My dragon is primitive in his line of thinking. She is ours, we take what is ours. Claim her, mark her, mate her. It's simple in his eyes.
I spend hours pacing the floor of my library, occasionally trying to engage in a book to no avail. I exercise until my muscles are numb, despite how pointless it is. Shower, change, listen to music. Nothing appeases me or my dragon so I go through my private entrance to the mountain.
Following the long hallway carved from stone, I finally enter our sacred space, the space filled with our family's hoard as well as sentimental pieces and relics of our lost loved ones.
My eyes scan the photographs lined up on the altar. Our father and mother, our beautiful sisters who were taken from us far too soon. I linger at the photo taken in 1963 of all nine of us, a happier time when our kingdom was at peace and we were together, preparing for our future.
I walk around the cavernous space, stopping at each carving that depicts our dragons, all nine larger than the windows on our human home, to display the power and beauty that is our other half, our clan's crest in the center over my father's mighty dragon.
Stopping in front of the altar again, I look down at the rings that belonged to our mother, the rings she had forged upon each of our birth to be passed on to our fated mates. Onyx, topaz, ruby, alexandrite. Our sisters that will never be given, the diamond, the amber, and the opal that will remain with the moonstone our father gave to our mother.
By the time I return to my quarters I feel tired, defeated, angry. Vengeance has once again reared its head and I reaffirm Cyril shall pay for all the destruction he caused.
