Page 36 of Owen

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

She tilted her head to the side, her wide, luminous eyes studying me. “For what?”

“The crash. It’s been eating away at me all this time. I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t. Anyway, it wasn’t your fault. No one could have guessed what the storm would bring. A crash nearly killed me. You did not.”

“I was driving.”

“I don’t hold you responsible. These things happen sometimes.” She touched my arm again, squeezing this time. “Let yourself rest, now. Be easy on yourself. No one blames you for what happened except for you.”

Hecate hurried in with the water then, cutting off anything I might have wished to say. There was nothing to be said, however. I couldn’t fight with Callie when it was clear she meant what she said.

I was the only one holding myself accountable for the crash. I was the only one who could let myself off the hook, so to speak.

“I can take care of this,” I said when Hecate poured a glass of water.

She did not look so certain. “Perhaps it would be better for you not to be the first person she sees when she awakens?”

“No offense intended, but you do you think you’d bring her any greater comfort?”

She winced, but clearly saw my point. “Fair enough.” She left the water on the bedside table and slid an arm around her sister’s waist. “Good luck. Just call out if you need anything.”

For a moment, I considered taking her up on that. I didn’t know if I had it in me to chase Molly again.

But would she run? I couldn’t say. Now that she knew dragons did, in fact, exist…

I sat on the edge of the bed, beside her, taking her hand between mine. It fit so perfectly against my palm, just as her mouth had fit against mine. As if we were made for each other.

“My love,” I whispered, wishing she heard me. That she would cease pushing me away. “My love. My mate. I have no more control over this than you do, Molly. I only know that I want you, that I need you, that I would do anything in my power to see to your happiness and safety all the rest of your days. Not a moment will go by in which you need ever question whether you are loved.”

She gave no indication of having heard a word I said.

Somehow, this emboldened me. Knowing I could give voice to that which was in my heart without her rejecting me out of hand loosened my tongue further. “A dragon waits his or her entire life for a fated mate. I never expected to find you here, across the ocean. I didn’t know upon noticing your campfire just what waited for me. I could have ignored it, I could have come back inside and pretended you didn’t exist. Something compelled me nonetheless. Something told me to stay with you, even when you ordered me away. I’ve never known anything like this—an instant connection, the certainty of it. Everything makes sense, even though to the outsider it wouldn’t. I’ve known you—what—less than twelve hours. But it might as well be a thousand years. You were meant for me, and I for you, and not a force in the entire world can change that. Except for you, of course. Only you. And even if you decided to reject me again and refused to change your mind, I would go on loving you. If I never saw you again, I would carry your image in my heart always. You wouldn’t leave my thoughts for a single day. Not for a solitary hour. You would haunt me the rest of my life. Och, Molly, I only wish to devote my life to you. I wish you could understand that.”

I looked down in surprise when her fingers flexed.

“I do,” she whispered.

My head snapped up.

She was opening her eyes. “I do understand.”

“How long could you hear me?”

“For a while,” she admitted. “You were saying something about waiting your entire life for your fated mate when I came to.”

I thought back, going over what I remembered saying. “That was nearly back at the beginning!”

“Was it?” She blushed, at least. “Sorry.”

“You could warn a man.”

“I said I was sorry! You were talking. I didn’t want to interrupt, okay?”

If she was fighting with me, it meant she wasn’t too frightened. I cleared my throat, momentarily at a loss but determined to get through it. “Now you know.” I watched her, waiting.

She pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring when she inhaled. “Now I know,” she finally sighed. “I can barely believe it, but I know. I wish there had been some sort of warning before it, like, landed right in front of me.”

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