Page 80 of Hoarded By the Dragon

He pauses, so I tighten my arms around him.

“How did you survive?” I ask. The question has stewed in my mind since the moment he’d revealed he had lost a mate. Most mated pairs don’t survive losing the other.

Kalos closes his eyes, face stricken with pain. “I don’t rightly know, and I didn’t question it. I only focused on trying to save our son. He didn’t fade at the same time she did. I hoped that meant that he could survive her death as well, that the hatchling bond wouldn’t be strong enough to steal away his light, but as the days passed, he grew weaker. I did everything I could to try and save him…”

Kalos clears his throat and opens the cabinet to get a plate. His tone more brisk, businesslike. “When his light went out, I thought I’d follow him, but that didn’t happen. There were days that I wished I could, but I was the only one keeping their memories alive, hoarded in my soul.”

“And dragons don’t give up their hoard.” I blink away tears, but they soak through the silk of his robe, and he turns in my arms, hugging me to his chest even though I’m supposed to be the one comforting him. “I’m so sorry, Kalos.”

“I know,” he says, his hand cradling my cheek.

“I’ll hoard their memories too,” I whisper.

His chest hitches at my words, and I stiffen, thinking I’ve overstepped, but he exhales and his talons brush through my hair gently.

“Thank you.”

28

KALOS

The tearsin Katarina’s eyes aren’t like the moments of frustration from mood swings. These tears are for me, for my family, and each one sips away the futile sadness and rage that simmers in my throat whenever I let myself remember them.

There are things I will never tell her. Not because I’m ashamed of them, but because she doesn’t need to carry the weight of them. The rage and desolation of my dragon burning the world away around me after the last spark of life had left my son. Or that in trying to save my son, the hunters had already butchered Ava for parts by the time I thought to retrieve her.

As dragons, our bodies are heavy with magic. Magic that practitioners of all kinds can wield. It took hundreds of years to track down each piece of her until I could finally lay her body to rest with the remains of our son.

But I told her the important things. And somehow, and as with many things she does, letting Katarina grieve for me brings me calm.

My chest expands with my inhale. “Now, it’s time I fed you.”

Katarina wipes away her tears, and I guide her to the table, sliding into the bench and pulling her to sit on top of me. It feels natural to hold her like this after all the times we’ve spent in contact to exchange heat.

I scoop a bite of food up with the fork and hold it in front of her mouth, half expecting her to take the fork from me and tell me she can feed herself, but she doesn’t. She gives me an exasperated look, but lets me feed her the bite. My dragon purrs under my skin, and I can’t help but to agree with the sentiment.

This small action settles both me and the beast. It’s a small echo of pulling the choice organ meats from a kill and presenting them to a mate.

Rina hums in enjoyment. “This is so good.”

“I thought you may enjoy it.” It’s only strips of steak pan-fried with spices that will satisfy our daughter’s tastes, but Rina’s whole body softens in pleasure like it’s some exquisite dish.

Her eyes are still a little watery from sadness. “Thank you, Kalos. For the food… and for telling me.”

I tighten my hold on her. There are other things that she should know.

“My dragon has mated with you,” I say, not knowing how else to tell her. Tonight is one for revelations after all.

I didn’t plan on sharing that fact with her, but now with Gage putting ideas in my head of consulting a magic practitioner, I have… hope. And in that emotion, it feels wrong to keep hiding this from her.

Rina’s brows crease, so I explain. “That night when we made our agreement. He mated you. That’s how you were able to get pregnant.”

“What does it mean that your dragon has mated me?” she asks, not debating that the dragon and I are separate.

I try to shrug. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t have been possible.”

Silence falls after I feed her another bite. It chafes, not being able to offer more information, but even the dragons who became scholars wouldn’t be able to answer this conundrum. Dragons aren’t separate beings. One part of our soul doesn’t mate without the other.

“And you don’t feel the same?” The words are a question, but she doesn’t say them like one. She says them like she expects my answer and will understand, but is saddened.

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