Chapter Eight

Chloe

"My son," the barrel-chested dragon said slowly, his voice deep and gravelly. "With a woman?"

Silas winced.

"Could it truly be? Has he found a mate at last?"

An awkward silence descended over us. I stood my ground but didn't speak. I wasn't sure what to say. Why was it so surprising to see Silas with a woman? What did that have to do with anything?

"Where did you find her?" his father asked, continuing as he took more steps. "How did you know she was your—"

All at once, the mood changed.

Thunderclouds formed between the big, bushy eyebrows on Silas' father's face, and he whirled to face his son.

"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed, the muscles at the base of his jaw clenching so tight they popped out in stark relief against the skin. "Explain yourself, Silas."

"Father, I—"

But the elder dragon didn't want to hear the excuse. His anger was already popping off. I could see it in his eyes, and I wondered if my lifespan had just become measured in seconds as his eyes cut to Silas. "You brought one of them into my house?"

Instead of trying to get a word in, Silas just stood tall, staring silently at his father as the man snarled and growled in fury, spitting insults. Through it all, Silas bore it stoically. Waiting, biding his time. It clearly wasn't the first time his father had gone on a rant about humans, I guessed. It was something Silas was used to.

"We're going to deal with this here and now," his father said, then started shouting for a council meeting to decide what should be done with Silas and ‘it.' Apparently, to this old hard-liner, I wasn't even a person.

At that, Silas' face went blank. He didn't move until his father had stormed off into the house. That was when his features crumbled slightly, replacing his stiff exterior with a drawn look of exhaustion.

Not afraid. Nor angry. Both of which were emotions I might've expected from him. Instead, he just looked sick and tired of it.

"You've been down this road before," I said. It wasn't a guess.

Silas nodded. "Yes. This is … pretty much what I expected. My father—"

"Hates humans," I finished.

"A little bit," he said. "Not sure what gave you that impression."

"Me neither," I said, glad Silas was still on my side and he hadn't abandoned me to side with his father.

"Yeah. It's a mystery, then. One we'll probably never solve." His voice was wry, but the exhaustion on his face was slowly being replaced with a look of irritation as his father continued shouting from the halls.

The sound was growing louder again. He was coming back.

I glanced at where the head of the house had disappeared. "Am I in any danger?" I asked, conscious of the door behind me. "Should I go?"

"No," Silas said firmly and swiftly. "Not physical, at least. You're here at the request of the sovereign. Much as he hates humans, my father respects her and will not hurt one of her guests. But don't expect any pleasantries either."

"And why should I be pleasant?" Just like that, his father was back among us, his eyes fixed on me, flames flickering in their depths. I wondered just how deep that respect for the sovereign went.

"Because that's considered proper," Silas tried but not very hard. He knew it was pointless—as did I.

"Proper? Was it proper what her people did to one of ours?"

I fought back the roll of my eyes, but it didn't matter. He picked up on my reaction.

"Do you deny, then, that you kidnapped one of our people and tried to experiment on him?"

"No, of course not." I didn't know for sure, but I'd heard the rumblings. "But I would say you have repaid us many thousands of times over. After all, we never killed any of your people. The same can't be said for you."

I knew my response wasn't helping the matter, but his self-righteous bullshit was rubbing me the exact wrong way.

"You deserved it," the old man snapped furiously.

"Really? We did? All those tens of thousands of innocent people who had no idea what happened. They deserved it, did they?"

A wave of his hand indicated his level of care. "This is the fault of your people and government. You have a democracy—"

"A republic," I muttered, earning myself a glare.

"You elected your leaders. Therefore, you are responsible."

"The war is over," I pointed out. "We're at peace now, remember?"

"Oh, yes, I remember." He was suddenly a step closer, the fires in his eyes now blazing, drowning out the normal iris and pupil. "What I don't remember is inviting one of their whores into my house to defile it with her—"

"That is enough," Silas snarled, coming to stand between us as he finally interceded. "She is here because she came with me, father. I invited her. Unless you would cast out your son?"

I held my breath at the sharpness of the challenge between them.

The older dragon stared down his son for a full minute before leaning slightly to the side. "Leave us," he said coldly. "We have things to discuss."

Silas turned his back on his father, looking at me with eyes that said far more than he ever could.

"Wait here," he said. "I'll find you when this is done."

I noticed the subtle difference in what he said. It wasn't much, but the way he'd disobeyed his father's orders while still achieving the same ends was well done. It put Silas in charge of the conversation and what would ensue and not his father. It wouldn't last, I was sure, but the old man noticed it, too.

"You wanted a council," Silas growled as his father looked ready to argue some more. "Let's go have the family council. I'm sure those who are here are ready by now."

Then he walked deeper into the house, forcing his father to accept the slight change in plans.

I watched them go.

"What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?" I moaned to no one but myself once they were out of sight.

When I'd discovered Silas came from a powerful family, I'd hoped it would be a help in achieving my mission.

Now, it appeared it would be the exact opposite.

Perhaps even terminating it—and me—early.