13. Chapter Thirteen

Zella had the living room roped off when I got home that night doing some dance from social media while recording.

Stasa stood on a stool while the family's tailor pinned the skirt of her new dress.

"Amara," my stepmother said. "Thank God you're finally home. Here is a list of things that need to be completed before tomorrow night. I have some guests coming over after the ball for drinks, and I need all this finished."

She flicked the folded-up list between her fingers, and I grabbed it.

Kicking off my shoes, I unfolded the paper and read down the list of chores. Clean the floorboards. Alphabetize the books. The list went on, draining my energy with just the thought of doing any of these chores.

They would take hours, especially with my rendezvous with Dorran, and preparing for the ball—

It was her way of ruining my chances of attending the ball.

A painful swirl of anger twisted in my stomach. There had been so many times over my life that I wanted to confront her, but this topped the list.

She was afraid. Afraid that Dorran would like me. It meant she saw something in me other than just the inconvenience left behind after my father died.

She was afraid that Dorran would choose me.

That I wouldn't be wedged under her thumb anymore.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow as if she cared what I thought.

"Of course not," I said softly. "Did the pasta I ordered make it?"

She waved toward the refrigerator. "We already ate. There are leftovers. Next time try to order something not so fattening, Amara."

The Doberman sat at the edge of the stairs patrolling like some dog from Hell.

I set the to-do list on my nightstand, took my hair down from its tight holder, and shook my fingers through it.

Not knowing when Dorran would show up, I took a shower, and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but crawled under my covers in case Helena decided to come and add to my list.

After 10 pm hit, I figured she wasn't coming to check on me, but I could see her new dog's shadow from beneath my door.

Leaning back, I nearly yelped when I noticed Dorran bent down in front of my window. The playful smile on his face made my heart thud faster, but the way his vibrant green eyes dared me, filled me with a white-hot lust.

"The dog," I mouthed.

Dorran disappeared from my bedroom window, and seconds later, like the time before, he stood in my doorframe. I slid my laptop into its place beneath my bed, while Toby walked into my room.

He winked at me. "Your sheets smell good—,"

"Toby," Dorran warned.

A slight shiver tap-danced down my spine as his tone dipped deeply with his words. Dorran's hand splayed across my back. "We'll see you soon. Stop sniffing," he said.

Dorran ushered me across the hallway, out of the bathroom window, and into his arms. The warmth he blanketed around me made me sleepy enough to rest my cheek and close my eyes.

"Have you ever flown before, Little Mouse?"

"Mice normally stay on the ground unless a hawk picks it up," I said, eyeing the edge of the roof. "This mouse included."

Dorran's chuckle vibrated my cheek. "Well, I've been called worse."

He bent at the knees, tightened his arms around my body, and leaped into the sky. My breath hitched in my throat, but against my better judgment, I forced my eyes open.

It was like watching streaks of lights racing around you, and the highest of highs surged you.

When we landed, I was clutching him so hard that my arms began to shake. Dorran stepped back, and I realized he'd landed on a balcony. We were outside of his room as he'd said.

The iron designs of the railing matched what was around the castle. The moonlight illuminated Dorran's smug face. The atmosphere was quiet, and untouched by anything too human. I couldn"t explain it.

"We're here," I whispered.

He nodded.

"How will Toby tell us if my stepmother comes?"

Dorran turned toward the double glass doors of his window. "He has stern orders to knock her out and put her in bed. She'll think it's a dream."

A bubble of laughter slipped from me. I stepped into a room bigger than the top floor of our house. "Well, after her attempt at …" I trailed off, looking at the detailed moldings. It was meant for a royal. The high-vaulted ceilings and the custom-built four-post bed.

I stopped in the middle of the floor, staring at the lavish bedroom suite, and the desk in the corner of the room. A stream of light beamed in from the cracked bathroom door.

Unable to stop myself, I pushed it open and stared at the huge bathroom. The countertop was white marble, and the sinks a charcoal black. The tub was claw-foot but bigger to accommodate his size.

The waterfall shower ... my heart melted at the thought of using it. I loved those things. I'd only ever used one once at a hotel, and it was magical.

Dorran stepped in behind me. "You a fan of the bathroom?"

I nodded. "I love a good bathroom," I mumbled. "It"s the one place I"m left alone at my house. It"s the silence and the warmth that I love. The bathroom is a safe place for me."

He tilted his head to the side. "What were you saying? About your stepmother"s attempt at what?"

"Oh," I said. "Yeah, she gave me a long list of things to do before the ball tomorrow. They are inviting people over for drinks after. It's her way of ruining my chances of going."

Dorran slid his tongue over his teeth. "Hmm. Like what?"

"It's too many things to say."

Dorran offered me his hand, and I took it, letting him lead me back into his room. He sat on the ottoman at the end of his bed and patted the place next to him.

"You're making me nervous," I mumbled while sitting down beside him, and digging my shoe into the fluffy rug.

"I want to talk to you about mating with a dragon."

Like the child I was, a flaming heat rolled over my body. I let my hair fall in my face to hide the humiliation I knew rested there.

"Mating with a dragon," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat.

Dorran lifted my chin with the side of his finger, his green playful eyes more serious than before. He swallowed and his throat moved roughly. "Yes, Amara. You are my mate."

I was his mate.

I said it over and over in my head.

Like a song, that I was afraid I would forget. He'd told me before but I'd blocked it out. It couldn't be true, could it?

Dragons had one desired, fated, whatever you wanted to call it—mate. My mouth opened in shock. "You were serious? I'm your mate?"

He nodded swiftly. "Yes. My parents don't care about fated mates. They are not fated mates. Their marriage was prearranged. I don't want that life. Do you understand?"

Did I? Was he saying we were meant to be together?

Dorran leaned forward with his plush lips an inch from mine. "I want you."

Sliding my palm up his chest, I placed my hand against him and pushed him backward. "What does that mean?"

"That means out of all the females in the world, you were hand-selected by God, to be with me. Most Dragons that find their mate take them seriously. I'm one of them."

My gaze shifted from Dorran's intense eyes to the floor where my worn tennis shoes stared up at me. "You're worried?" he asked in a whisper. "You're worried about what?"

"Everything," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not meant for this life. Look at me. Look at you. I'm not cut out for life like this—,"

"My life is my own. Whatever you choose to do, I'll support you, Amara. I'm not like my family."

I knew that.

I could see the difference.

Curling my fingers around the ottoman, I looked up at him. "Tell me about the mating process."

Dorran seemed to like the talk of it. His dragon surfaced, and I watched as he blinked and fought him back down. Sliding my teeth against my bottom lip, I watched as he gained control.

"The mating process is different for dragons. They teach it in public schools now."

Dorran's wings spread wide, and I gasped at the wind it caused in the room. Dorran stood up, dropped down to his knees, and the tip of his wing circled close to my throat.

"We prick you wherever we choose, and it leaves a mark against your skin. My family's mark is blue," he smiled a cunning smile. "And we both know you look stunning in blue."

My breathing began to grow. "What happens after the prick?"

Dorran's eyes turned slowly toward my mouth, and then to the curve of my breasts. "Then I complete the ritual with my new mate—my new forever—and I take you to bed. All night. Into the next day. Into the next week—,"

The virgin inside of me didn't croak over like I imagined she would. It felt like she woke up and slapped me awake.

My fingers tightened. "We don't do that until you mark me?"

Dorran's palms curled around my thighs. "Not until I mark you."

"I don't want to wait for that," I admitted.

"Neither do I, Little Mouse, but rules are rules, and I'm a traditional guy. However," he whispered, crawling over me, he gripped my hips and tossed me onto his bed.

The satin sheets were cool against my arms, and I sank into the mattress. Dorran's body loomed over mine, his gaze peeling the clothes off me. "I'm all for a little bending of the rules, Amara. Tell me," he whispered, "have you ever been touched ..." His gaze flicked toward the one spot I wanted him the most. "... there?"

Slowly, I shook my head.

Dorran sat back on his knees, pulled out his phone, and sent a text. "You aren't taking pictures of me, are you?"

He looked offended. "No. I told Toby to hang out for a while. I'm going to show my mate what she'll get if she lets me mark her."

I placed both hands on his shoulders. "Who said I agreed to be your mate, Dorran?"

"Oh, Little Mouse, being my mate isn't a choice. Being marked is, and if you weren't planning on letting me claim you, you wouldn't be on this bed right now, or looking at me with those eyes. Now," he whispered. "Rest your head. It's time for something sweet," he instructed.