27. Drake

27

DRAKE

T he Drake had no words—he had never wanted to have them. Until now.

The male he shared a body with sometimes made words at him—mouth noises that the Drake could interpret only by the emotions he was feeling when he made them. Mostly they were angry and repressive—the male didn't want him to come out—he didn't trust the Drake, even though they shared a form.

Mostly, the Drake ignored him. It was easier that way—easier to sleep, to doze the days away hidden in the darkness. But now he wished, in his primitive way, that he had paid more attention to the mouth noises. If he had, maybe he could understand what the female was saying to him now.

"Easy now. Take it easy—I'm not the enemy. Drago is my friend—he's my Protector, okay?"

Her voice was soft and musical but the mouth noises made no sense to him. However, there were other ways to communicate and her body language was speaking volumes to him.

The female—their Fated Mate—was frightened of him. He could see it in the tense set of her shoulders and the wideness of her eyes. He could smell it, too. The fear scent came from her strongly and the Drake realized she thought that he would hurt her. Which was also the fear of the male he shared a body with.

The Drake snorted softly, being sure not to let loose any flame. He would never hurt her—why couldn't she understand that? She was his Fated Mate—the mate that he and the male should share, just as they shared a body and a consciousness. She was the precious one—the treasured one that he would guard with his very life and kill or die to protect.

That was why he had burst the chains the male had tried to hold him with and come out to save her from the evil crawling creature that had menaced her. Nothing and no one would hurt her as long as the Drake was alive. But how could he show her he meant no harm? She was so tiny—so delicate. No wonder she was frightened of him. He had to let her know she wasn't prey—that she was the treasured one instead.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered his head until they were eye-to-eye. Then the Drake laid his head fully upon the floor. He wished he could make himself small for her, but he couldn't—this was the best he could do. He held very, very still, hoping she would understand, even though he had no words.

He didn't want to hurt her—he only wanted to care for her and possess her, always. If only he could make her see…