Page 8 of Sacrificed to the Dragon

He didn’t spoil his little speech by saying he could fly almost anywhere. Certain cities had dragonflight bans, and in some rural areas, dragon hunters waited for their prey; harvesting and selling dragon’s blood on the black market was becoming a big problem.

Thankfully, they arrived at the small stone cottage sitting a little away from the rest, which meant he wouldn’t have to keep talking to her. He nodded his head toward the thatched cottage and said, “This is to be your home while you’re here.” He could hear the females inside. “The human females will answer your questions and bring you to the ceremony.”

She frowned. “And what about you?”

Using the trick of talking to forget about his dragon’s instinct seemed to have backfired. He’d been too nice, and Melanie seemed to have gotten her hopes up about him caring about her. It was time to fix that. “I’m going for a quick flight to rid the stench of human from my nose.”

His dragon roared and said,She doesn’t stink. Stay. Take her. We will scent her.

Shut it.

Tristan ignored the hurt in the human’s eyes. He couldn’t let her like him, or his dragon’s need might overwhelm his own self-control. “Until tonight.”

He turned and left her standing in the dirt. His dragon growled in irritation at the change of Melanie’s scent from one of a soft, warm woman to a hurt, lonely one.

Well, fuck you, dragon.Just because his beast had forgotten that humans had torn apart his family didn’t mean Tristan-the-man had.

He picked up his pace and headed toward the clearing where he could shift and take off. He hoped the flight would clear his head and allow him to get a handle on his dragon again, or the next two days were going to be pure hell. No female had ever affected his beast to the point his dragon demanded things of him, and that scared him a little.

* * *

Melanie watchedTristan walk away and tried not to cry. She’d thought they’d made some progress when he’d told her about not liking confined spaces, or about the freedom of flight. But then he’d gone and said she stank.

Even if her body was attracted to him—and it was—she wasn’t sure her heart could take having sex with him, especially if all he’d do afterward was tear her down again.

Not now, Hall.She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d only been on Stonefire’s land for a little over an hour and it was too soon to start guessing her future.

Opening her eyes, she eyed the cottage door and decided the best thing was to see what the other human women said about their time here. Their experience would be more valuable to her than crying or wondering what if.

Unsure of what she should do, Melanie knocked. A faint “Come in” answered and she opened the door and entered the cottage.

Inside were two women. The one with curly red hair and blue eyes was about Mel’s age and very much pregnant. The other one was a little older with long, black hair and dark, golden skin. The woman with the dark hair smiled and said, “I’m Samira.” She gestured at the redhead. “And this is Caitriona. Welcome to Stonefire.”

Mel forced a smile. “I’m Melanie Hall.”

She took a step toward the women when a little boy who looked to be about three years old peeked out from behind Samira’s skirts. Samira looked down at the boy with love and placed a hand on his head. “And this is my son, Rhys.”

As Samira coaxed her son out and picked him up, Mel looked over at Caitriona. But the woman wasn’t smiling. If anything, her vacant expression made her look like a walking zombie. Mel decided Samira would be her best bet for information and looked at the woman holding her son in her arms. “While it’s nice to meet you all, I’m hoping you can help me understand what it is I’m supposed to do tonight. What’s a welcoming ceremony?”

Samira jostled her son on her hip. “We have enough time to chat over some tea.” She looked at Caitriona. “Cait, can you make us some tea and bring out some biscuits?”

Cait nodded and headed for the small kitchen on the far side of the room. Samira motioned her head toward the couches and chairs. “Let’s sit down.”

Mel looked over at Cait. “Shouldn’t she sit down? She looks quite pregnant.”

Samira walked over and whispered, “She’s only six months along. Besides, she likes to keep busy. It helps her to forget her troubles.”

Mel wanted to ask more, but when Samira pushed against her shoulder with her own, she took the hint. Once they sat down, Mel on the chair and Samira on the couch opposite with her son on her lap, Samira said, “I’ll tell you about the welcoming ceremony in a minute. First, what did you think of Tristan?”

Unsure of Samira’s loyalties, she decided to keep her answer diplomatic. “I just met him.”

Samira clicked her tongue. “Come, now. He’s a broody bastard when it comes to humans. You can say so, and it won’t go outside this room. Trust me, being a human amongst the dragon-shifters can be a trial sometimes.”

Mel studied the smiling woman holding her son tight in her arms and decided to trust her a little. “That’s an understatement.” She paused, but before she could stop herself, she said, “I think Tristan hates me.”

“It doesn’t surprise me.”

Mel clenched a fist against her jeans. The other woman knew nothing about her. But Samira continued before she could say a word. “It has nothing to do with you, my dear. You seem lovely. But Tristan’s mother was killed by humans, and he’s never gotten over it.”

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