A dragon shifter novel Chapter 42

Honoured

Allison

I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts, but the universe must be playing tricks on me, berna veday day earna, vomatning habos low in my gut. Some ridiculous twinge reminding me I owe these two for saving my life, for dragging me into the word who pull myself. “Fine,” I huff, the word leaving my mouth like it’s been pried out of my soul. Beside me, Tovar’s eyes up wide, for og eth that ‘really?’ look, like she can’t believe I’m actually letting them in. I lean closer, muttering just for her. “Keats, danstoy somn 27s shiris like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t matter… even though it does. Both Kael and Evander’s heads torn sharply, hearing every word lovander’s gaze snaps straight to Kael, sharp as a blade. The dragon-boy’s jaw tightens, Guess someone left out a few details about now, exacting ] got back to my room that night. Kael only smirks wider, like the whole thing is a private joke between him and the world

Evander

Kael never says he went into her room. He told me he got her back there, yes, but not that he crossed the threshold. Not that he was inside with her. My dragon bristles at the omission, claws raking against the inside of my chest. He should have told us. I keep my face neutral, but in my head the question burns, and I know damn well I’ll be asking him about it later. He can smirk all he wants. I’m not letting that slide. For now, though, I swallow it down because my dragon is… pleased. More than pleased. He practically purrs in the sack of my mind at the thought of being invited, welcomed, however begrudgingly, into her space. Even if Kael forced the issue with that cocky grin of his, it doesn’t matter. The fact is simple. She said yes. We are being honoured, my dragon rumbles, smug and territorial all at once -our mate’s den. I don’t bother reminding him that it wasn’t really an invitation so much as Kael badgering her until she gave in. It doesn’t matter. To him or, apparently, to me, it’s enough.

I’ve been curious about her room from the first night she arrived, and now, finally, I will see it for myself. Perhaps there are things I could buy her. Things to make her more comfortable and less isolated. I know she’s been spending too much time tucked away up here and missing meals in the hall. That’s precisely why Kael and I tracked down her class schedule and waited outside her classroom today. I needed to see her. Needed to know with my own eyes that she’s fine. That I didn’t scare her. That my dragon didn’t. We reach the narrow door that leads to the attic stairwell, and the scent of old wood and dust hits my nose. The stairs wind upward into shadows. The first step groans under my boot, a long, splintering creak like the whole staircase is threatening to give out under my weight. Careful, my dragon murmurs, his attention sharpening. Do not break her path. She walks here alone. Each step feels like it might collapse, but I keep moving. Kael’s easy stride is ahead of me, Allison small and stubborn between us. My dragon presses harder against my ribs, restless, already eager to see what she’s built for herself in this hidden place.

The stairs end in a narrow landing, a plain door waiting at the top like the entrance to a forgotten storage loft. I expect the inside to smell of mildew and rot, a place no one in their right mind would call home, but when the door swings open, I freeze. The attic isn’t anything like I imagined. It’s a whole world. Her world. It’s moulded to perfection, for her. Warmth spills over me, the kind that doesn’t come from fire, but from care. The floors are covered in a soft black carpet that shimmers faintly when the light catches the silver threads. A living space spreads across the centre, two green armchairs circling a star-and-moon rug that pulses like a night sky underfoot. A television blinks quietly from the far wall, its glow casting a modern ease that clashes strangely with the Gothic bones of the attic. My dragon rumbles, approving, as my eyes track to the bed. Enormous. Fluffy. A good nest for our mate. It sits beneath a stained-glass window, the glass bleeding jewel tones across dark sheets and pillows piled high enough to drown in. Curtains of midnight velvet frame it, and a sleek wardrobe gleams nearby as though it were born of magic itself. Would I one day be honoured enough to sleep with my mate there? I stand frozen, taking in every inch of the space, and realise my mouth has gone slightly dry. This isn’t a hovel. It isn’t a hiding place. It’s a

sanctuary.

15:30 Sat, Jul 11

Honoured

My dragon presses hard against me, hot satisfaction rolling through his voice. She made a nest. We need to scent it for her. She would enjoy our scent in her nest. I swallow, forcing my shoulders back, pretending my heart isn’t clawing at my ribs. “This… isn’t what I expected,” I admit, my voice lower than I mean it to be. My eyes find her in the middle of it all. She looks small and guarded, but her chin tilted like she’s daring me to judge. I don’t. I can’t. Because I understand this room isn’t just about comfort. It’s survival, built piece by piece by a girl who had nothing, and the dragon inside me knows better than I do. It’s beautiful.

I watch her cross the room like she’s been living here for years instead of weeks, bare feet on that star-streaked carpet, her friend orbiting at her side. She busies herself at the fridge and cupboards, pulling out food in quick, practised movements. The normalcy of it hits me harder than I expect. She isn’t just a girl who almost drowned and bled out in the woods last night. She’s just… living. Then she reaches for the plates. They’re stacked on a high shelf, just out of reach. She rises onto the tips of her toes, fingers stretching, stubborn jaw set like she’d rather dislocate a shoulder than ask for help. I move before I think. One stride and I’m behind her with heat and instinct. My hand comes up over hers, easily plucking the stack down from the shelf. “Got it,” I say quietly, my voice rougher than it should be. She stiffens for a fraction of a second, then huffs out a breath and looks up at me from under her lashes. So close I can see the faint bruise along her cheekbone, the healers didn’t quite erase. My dragon purrs, pleased to be useful. Pleased to be near. I set the plates on the counter in front of her. “No sense breaking your neck for a sandwich,” I add, softer, aiming for light humour. She doesn’t laugh.

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