14. Kara

Iknow nothing of a life of wealth or power. Nearly everything I think I know about dragons could be untrue. So much of my current reality evades me. But I am all too aware, as I sit in silk, that there is much to be grateful for. Even if he lied. Even if he only wishes to use me. This could be a life protected. Or at least a moment where I could truly rest without worry.

That's what I keep thinking. Drago saved my life. He's treated me better than I've ever expected. I love what he does to me in every way, physically. Even if I don't want to be lied to nor do I wish to be used. A very broken, beaten down part of me wants to submit and be grateful. An even more depraved part of me wants to tell him it could happen in a few years or more. That desperate piece of my soul hopes he'll give me his attention for that long if he believes it'll be possible to breed me.

I haven't moved from the grand bed and silence has left me with a mix of thoughts.

Most of them lead to one conclusion: if I stay, I will fall for him beyond repair. He will have every bit of control, and a part of me craves nothing more than that. All the rest of me though, knows never to trust a dragon.

A loud bang of the door swinging open catches me off guard and has a scream of surprise tearing from my throat.

"My Lady, are you all right?" A young woman asks from the doorway. She's dressed like the others in a simple linen dress. Her long, dark hair is braided and put up in a perfect and tightly pinned back bun. Her skin is like porcelain and her eyes are the palest blue. I've never seen someone with such dark hair yet light eyes. She's young and lean, probably my age. She raises her brows in question and takes a step forward. "Are you all right, my Lady?"

I nod my head and my forehead pinches in confusion as I whisper my question. "Why are you calling me Lady?"

Her back straightens and her head bows as she clasps her hands in front of her and answers in a hushed tone. "We've been told to address you in that manner. Forgive me; please allow me to address you as you see fit. I need only to know what you prefer." She talks to the ground, and it makes my stomach twist in a knot.

"Stop it." I crawl off the bed and walk to her. She takes a step back like she's afraid of me. "You can call me whatever the hell you want to. My name is Kara, so I'd prefer that, but I've been known as that bitch before also so that works too. What else did he tell you?"

She looks up at me with bewildered eyes. "M—" She clears her throat. "Kara?"

"Yes?"

"You'd prefer for us to call you Kara?" she asks as though she doesn't understand the simple normalcy.

"That's my name. What's yours?" I ask.

"Zinnea," she answers.

"Oh, that's pretty. Like a flower." She blushes and smiles sweetly before returning her gaze to the floor.

"Stop looking at the floor please. You can look at me like anyone else. I'm not a Lady."

"Lord Arrington has informed us that you are his mate, and you are to be treated as such."

A warmth spreads over me but I don't trust it. The young woman stares back to me, waiting for my response. "I'm not certain that's true."

Her eyes widen. "You don't wish to be with him?"

I look behind her into the hall before asking, and completely ignoring her question, "Where do you go for privacy?"

"In the den mostly."

"Could we go there, or anywhere else that's not this room?" I ask her.

"Yes, I could give you a tour of sorts, if you'd like?"

"Please. Let me change first and then I'd like to get out of this room." I turn to go to the pile of clothes and breathe deeply. The jewelry is in boxes next to it and that reminds me of the collar on my neck. I fiddle with the clasp in the back, but I can't get it.

"Zinnea?" I ask as I turn to her, "would you please unhook this for me?"

"Your collar?"

"Yes," I answer. "I can't get it."

"M—" she corrects herself. "I'm afraid that Lord Arrington will be extremely displeased if his collar was removed by anyone other than himself."

I whip my head around. "Excuse me?"

"It's his and it being on you is a symbol that you're his. Taking it off would be akin to taking you away from him."

I stare at her for a minute, feeling my heart sink. I swallow and reach around to fiddle with the clasp again. The chain falls the moment the clasp is free, and it drops to a puddle in my hand. I leave it on the dresser and make my way to the clothes. It takes me a moment to realize she hasn't followed. When I turn around, Zinnea is staring at the table I've left the collar on with wide eyes and her mouth open in shock.

With a heavy exhale, I decide to keep this night dress on. I don't want to wear anything else he picked out for me or any of these expensive clothes. I'd rather wear the linen dress Zinnea is wearing.

"Can we go now?" I'm ready to get the hell out of this room and get this fog in my head cleared. I'm hopeful that the farther I can get away from Drago, the clearer I'll be able to think.

Zinnea swallows and nods, although she seems a shade paler than before. She leads the way down the long hall. With the daylight it's so much easier to see than it was the night before. The windows are floor to ceiling and line the hall on the right. The left side has large paintings that I wasn't quite able to make out last night. I shudder remembering what happened after. Thankfully, Zinnea distracts me with a question.

"Are you cold?"

I shake my head no. "I would like to wear something else though."

"Are we going shopping?" Zinnea's blue eyes light with happiness, and a large smile forms on her face. I take it she enjoys shopping.

"I don't have any money at the moment." She looks me up and down with a frown and opens her mouth but closes it.

"Let's go to the kitchen and get some sweets." She leads me down a narrower hall with no windows that's lit with torches.

"What's with all the torches?" I have to ask. There's electric and running water yet these torches are everywhere.

"For tradition. The Lords like to keep certain things as they were when they were young." She leans in close and whispers, "Before their parents passed." She pushes the double doors open to a huge kitchen. It's complete with every possible commercial appliance there is available. It's all stainless steel and sterile. The light reflecting off the metal is nearly blinding.

I nod in understanding. "It was so long ago though. So much has changed."

"In many ways yes, but in many ways nothing has changed." Mrs. Sarah answers from her position at the sink. I stop in my tracks and watch as Zinnea skips over to her.

"How many sweets would you like?" I don't even realize Zinnea is talking to me until both women look back and stare at me.

"Just one, please."

Zinnea looks back at me with a look of disbelief and then climbs on a stool to get to an upper cabinet. "One of each it is," she says cheerfully before climbing down with a handful of brightly colored candies. "Mrs. Sarah, we'll need a little bowl if you have one."

The older woman smirks at her. "You'll need a bowl Zinni. Don't blame this on our Lady of the castle."

"Her name is Kara. And she doesn't want to be called Lady." Zinnea sits on the counter swinging her legs and looks back to me as she keeps talking to Mrs. Sarah. She says in a hushed tone, "I thought you may want to talk to her some. She also says she has no money to go shopping." I don't miss her raised brow and knowing look she gives the older woman before glancing back at me.

"Oh, dear." The older woman looks at me from head to toe, her lips pursed. Suddenly my throat goes dry. With a quizzical look she comments, "But you love him."

My heart sputters in my chest. I shake my head no, but really I'm not sure it's the truth. And I'm not a liar. I spear my fingers through my hair. "I don't know."

Mrs. Sarah walks to the fridge with a sigh, ignoring my response, and pulls out a bowl of peeled shrimp and places it on the counter. All the while I watch and wait, as if this woman's opinion would mean anything at all. She digs back in the fridge and sighs, pulling out a bowl of shrimp shells. I suppose she's making a broth. I try to convince myself that what anyone else thinks is irrelevant, but for some reason, I can't. I'm desperate for someone else to explain what I feel to me. I'm at a complete loss—torn, confused, and on the verge of admitting that I am in love, although none of it feels as if it's in my control.

"I bet you do know," she says matter of factly, interrupting my thoughts, as she grabs a pot hanging over the stainless-steel counter. Ignoring my racing heart, I purse my lips and consider her words as she fills the pot with water and sets it on the stove.

"I don't trust how I feel." Again, I settle on the truth.

"Ah!" She holds her finger up. "You're afraid."

"No." I respond instantly. I am never afraid.

Turning to look over her shoulder, Mrs. Sarah smirks at me, wiping her hands on her apron. "Of course you're afraid. Everyone is afraid when they're in love."

As she turns her attention back to the pot, I murmur, half wishing I could keep my thoughts to myself, "I don't want to feel this way."

"Which way is that? In love or afraid?" she questions, her back still to me as if this is a casual conversation. Swallowing thickly, I glance to my right at Zinnea and expect to find her leaning over and ready to pounce on my insecurities, but she's simply unwrapping a sweet and popping it into her mouth.

"I don't know which is worse." The truth in my statement is unsettling.

"The worst thing that could happen is that you give him your heart and he breaks it." She grabs a few peppers and onions and chops them with ease as she adds, "And I have a feeling Drago wouldn't do anything to hurt you, Kara."

I almost tell her he lied to me. I almost tell her I don't know that I trust myself around him. Instead I just say straight to the point, "I may be pregnant with his dragonlings." I don't need to explain that matters would get far more complicated if I am pregnant. I grip the edge of the counter a little tighter as Zinnea unwraps another sweet, pretending not to be listening but I'm all too aware she is.

There's no judgment at all in Mrs. Sarah's response. She doesn't stop her knife or the chopping. "He should be able to scent by now. It's nearly instant for dragons."

"How instant?" I ask, my neck and cheeks heating.

"Within hours of your heat leaving you, you would smell of pregnancy." The vegetables drop into the pot, and she busies herself cleaning the cutting board.

As my insecurities and a million questions race in my mind, I ask her, "Do you smell it?"

"Sweetheart, I'm just a human. You'd have to ask a dragon that. And seeing as how your Drago is the only dragon around right now, maybe you should ask him."

"Where are his brothers?" I question. "Cyrus and Galen?"

"They should be back by night fall." She takes in a nervous breath. "They've gone to see about acquiring someone." A shudder runs through her body.

"You're worried?" I ask.

Her eyes find mine. "A bit. I'm sure they'll be careful, but what they're doing could"—she hesitates before saying—"add complications."

A chill runs down my shoulders. I look at the exit to the kitchen and wonder where Drago is.

"Let's go Kara," Zinnea says with an upbeat voice as she hops off the counter. "It's time to go shopping." I watch as she pockets more sweets and winks at me. Well, if nothing else, it'll give me a distraction and get me out of here.