Page 107 of Hoarded By the Dragon

I don’t know why I make the plea. It’s logical for this massive dragon to leave and get whatever pent-up emotions he’s dealing with out, but my memories of abandonment whisper that if he leaves now, he’ll never come back.

He twists the knife in my chest by turning away and launching itself through the portal without hesitation.

The taste in my mouth is bitter, and the portal closes. All that’s left are singed rocks and a sob building in my chest.

Kalos is gone.

36

KATARINA

Kalos doesn’t returnby dinner or the next day.

It’s been two days, and I press my lips together. The stroke of paint on canvas fails to calm the burning pit of emotion in my chest, but if I’m moving, I’m less likely to allow myself to spiral into dark places or to give in to worries that threaten to drown me.

The visual of dragon fire is absent from my work now, probably the completion of what my dreams were waiting for. My current paintings feature glossy black scales and forbidding golden eyes.

There’s a tap at my open studio door.

Maggie stands there with a tray. “Care for some lunch? You must be hungry.”

The mild thread of nausea in the back of my throat suppresses my appetite, but skipping meals would be bad for the baby.

“Sure.” I start cleaning brushes. “Sorry for making you come up here.”

“Hush. This place offers you solace. I won’t steal that away from you right now.”

Solace. I wouldn’t say that, maybe distraction. My studio offers me more than the ugly emotions of Kalos’s bedroom. I’ve tried to sleep there since my ability to sleep in my bed has gone the way of my appetite, and Griffin prefers to hang out in the dragon’s bedroom, but his campfire scent doesn’t settle me the way it did before. It just reminds me that he’s not here.

“Do you mind if I check on the baby?” Maggie asks, setting the tray on the coffee table in the sitting area away from my paints. It’s always wise to keep a strong divide from eating and drinking locations when it comes to painting. I’ve gulped paint water only once, but that’s enough.

I pull the nitrile gloves off my hands and hold them out to her. “Please.”

Maggie’s skin is pleasantly warm against my clammy hands. The chill hasn’t returned as violently as I expected. Mostly I’m only cold enough that I need to throw a hoodie on. I try not to think about what I’m going to have to do if it gets worse.

The zing of Maggie’s magic is a comfort now, and the fae hums after a moment. “She’s doing okay.”

My heart lodges in my throat.

“But she isn’t thriving,” I guess.

Maggie’s eyes soften, and she brings my hands together before patting them. “I think she’s picking up on your emotions. The hatchling bond is firmly in place even if she’s gestating in you instead of an egg.”

I’m a jumble of emotions, symptoms, and regrets, but the loudest at this moment is guilt.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” I pull my hands from Maggie’s. “Is there a way you can make it better for her?”

Maggie tilts her head. “Other than making it better for you? No. It’s best to not mess with the bond.”

I huff a weak laugh. “I don’t know what that would take to make me feel better.”

Maggie pulls me to sit on the couch in front of the lunch tray. Her presence gives me a pang of comfort I’ve been missing. I’ve been avoiding her and Ben since the literal blow up with Kalos.

“You could share your worries. Your plans.” Her gaze touches on the duffel bag next to the easel. I’ve kept it within my sight since Kalos left. It’s not as equipped as a go-bag but has some provisions along with money and a phone charger.

“It’s my fault he’s gone,” I say.

Maggie snorts. “It’s Kalos’s fault. He will return.” She tilts her head. “But that’s not what you’re worried about, is it?”

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