Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sarah

"D id you have fun today meeting the rest of your family?"

"Yep!"

I bit back a smile, listening through the doorway as Levi tried to put Jakub to bed when all our son wanted was to bounce off the walls and recount his day with the dragons.

It warmed my significantly more cynical self to see Jakub wasn't permanently scared of the dragons. He'd already probably forgotten about the war. True, my parents and I had tried hard to shelter him from it, but to completely ignore it was impossible. The dragons had taken much of the northern seaboard of our country, including some of our biggest cities.

And in return, the dragons had become the bogeymen of legend. It had only taken eight months for horrible tales to circulate, and the threat of "being taken by the dragons" replaced anything else, from trolls to gremlins and evil monsters.

Now, Jakub was unlearning that. And perhaps, little by little, so was I. The dragons were a society as well. Not all of them were evil or war rabid. Many, in fact, detested the war and wanted peace so they could be left alone.

As always, nothing was black or white.

Except for a four-year-old being unwilling to go to bed at his proper bedtime. That was set in stone.

"Did you have fun showing them your fire?"

"Yeah!" Jakub shouted. That was followed by springs squeaking as he jumped on the bed. "So fun! All the dragons were there, Dad. They were blue and red and purple, too!"

"I know. I was there."

A sticky, ooey-gooey warmth burned in my chest and across my face at hearing the two of them. Jakub had taken to the revelation that Levi was his father with ease, simply accepting it as the way it was.

Once the "coolness" of learning his father was a dragon wore off—or when puberty hit—there would be definite backlash, I was sure, but for now, the two were bonding hard and becoming thick as thieves.

Seeing Jakub begin to exhibit some traits of his dragon heritage was less easily quantifiable.

On the one hand, I was proud of him for his slowly developing ability to control bits and spurts of fire. Making it appear in his palm and go out and such. Any parent would be.

On the other hand, it was a four-year-old playing with fire . That was terrifying—as it should be to the parent of any four-year-old, past or present.

Then, finally, there was the knowledge that it was something I simply couldn't share with him. For now, the gap was small and limited, but in time, as he grew into his full powers, I would be left further and further behind.

I feared losing him.

That time was a long way off, however, and I intended to do everything I could to ensure it didn't happen. There could be a place for a balance between human and dragon.

Couldn't there?

I realized then that the noises from the bedroom had quieted. Levi was talking in quieter tones, forcing me to focus if I wanted to hear.

" A fair dragon princess was trapped up the mountain by the evil dragon. He wanted her all for himself and banished anyone who he thought might take her away. For a long, long time, she was alone. Until one day, a brave dragon came up the mountain …"

It didn't take long for Jakub to drift off into sleep. He loved tales like that, where he could be the hero, coming to save the day. Soon enough, Levi tiptoed out of the room, turning the light off and easing the door closed behind him.

He saw me there and smiled. "You were right. He loved the story. Started dreaming almost immediately."

I nodded amusedly. "I'm terrified for the day he grows too old for that to work. I've got nothing ready."

Levi reached a hand up unexpectedly, running it across my cheek. "You're an amazing mother, Sarah. You'll think of something. I know it."

My face burned with heat at his words. "Thank you." I hesitated, then pushed on. "Can we talk?"

Concern flickered across his broad face, digging deep into the corners of his eyes. Even in the darkness, they glittered with that curious orange tint.

"Of course," he said.

"Thanks." We went down the hall and into his office, closing the door behind us, just in case Jakub was still up.

"Everything okay?"

I took a deep breath, trying to fortify myself, to prepare for every outcome.

"I guess not," he said, looking behind him to make sure his desk was clear. He picked up a thick envelope and set it off to the side.

"What's in there?" I asked, stalling.

"This?" he asked, hefting the envelope. "Nothing. Just some notes from Malakai."

"Oh."

Levi looked me up and down from where he sat back against his desk, his arms crossed somewhat defensively in front of him. "Well, out with it," he said, forcing the conversation back on track.

No more avoiding it.

"When I came here, you told me I was your mate," I said, diving right in.

Levi nodded.

"How can you know this?"

"Because you are."

His voice didn't waver. I wanted to scream at him, to know how he could be that confident .

"You can't know that," I told him. "Because I don't have a dragon in me. There's no other part of me for you to be mated to. It doesn't make sense."

"I know."

I rocked back on my heels at the casual admission. "You what? So, you know I'm not actually your mate?"

"No, you are my mate." He pushed himself off the desk. "I can't explain how it's possible, Sarah. Do I wish I could? Maybe, but that might remove some of the mystery of it. All I know is you are. My dragon knows it, and I trust it entirely. And I hope that one day you will, too."

I was floored. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," he said, stepping closer. Invading my personal space. "The non-dragon side takes longer to come around, but it does—if you let it."

"I don't know."

"Is there something wrong with being my mate?"

"I …" I fell silent, thinking about his question. "I'm not sure, truthfully. I've never been anyone's mate before, Levi. It's all so new to me."

He laughed softly. "You aren't the only one in uncharted waters. But if you'd like, we can try to sail them together."

The open admission of his uncertainty was a breath of fresh air.

"How can you be so confident?"

Levi was quiet for some time, thinking over his answer. When he spoke, he stared straight into my soul. "If you could see what I see when I look at you, then you would understand," he whispered.

I shivered. It wasn't cold in the office. If anything, it was warm. Yet I shivered anyway because those words were spoken from a place of seriousness Levi often didn't reach. Like most men, he was casual and flippant … until he wasn't.

That single glance into his thoughts hit hard and stuck around. Forcing me to consider things. Things I hadn't thought possible.

Like maybe he was telling the truth.

Maybe I was his mate.

"Levi," I whispered.

He came to me, a force of heat and desire that burned down any remaining hesitation, crossing a line that could not be retracted.

And I welcomed him in.