I can use it to take care of both of us, she told herself, because it was becoming obvious that Morgan needed some care as well.
He pulled them through the gates of the state park, quiet due to the weekday and the early time of the year. When they parked in the empty little lot, Harper took Morgan's hand before they got out of the car, holding it in both of hers.
“Harper?”
“You know that with all of this true mate stuff, you should be able to tell me anything, right?” she asked softly. “I'll listen.”
Morgan gave her conflicted look, and she smiled, shrugged.
“Take your time. I'm yours all weekend, remember?”
For a moment, she thought that he would tell her what was going on his head, but then he only nodded.
They walked along the short, thankfully dry trail through the thick trees, coming to a small picnic area. Morgan set the picnic basket on the table again, and Harper helped him pull out their snacks.
“Do you know how strong you are?”
Harper looked up at Morgan quizzically. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.
“Hm?”
“You are,” he said, concentrating very hard on cutting the sausage up into thin and even slices. “You have done so much, and I think you have done so very much of it alone.”
“I don't mind being alone,” Harper said. “At least, I'm used to being alone. I'm good at it.”
“The strength of the dragon clans is that we're never alone, not really, not unless we really want to be. We're so few, and it wasn't so very long ago that we were hunted, for gold, for prestige, and for hatred. We are a tight-knit bunch, and we will all do what needs to be done to defend each other. To protect the ones we care about most, no matter what it means.”
Morgan took a deep breath, and his left hand drifted up to his right shoulder, massaging it absently before going to rest on his chest.
His sunstone, she thought. A strange feeling of dread opened up in the pit of her stomach.
“I have to protect my family,” he said, but then before he could say anything else, a high gale swept up, whipping the tallest branches of the trees, sending a chill across Harper's bare skin.
The wind was immediately followed by a roar that seemed to shake the valley, and then Morgan was swearing. Harper scanned the sky for the dragon that had come looking for them at her shop, and then she sputtered as she was suddenly splashed with what felt like icy cold water.
“Morgan, what the hell!”
He was already tossing the thermos aside, and she caught a look of fury and terror as he turned away from her.
“Get down in that ditch!” he said, pointing. “Do not leave it until I come for you!”
Harper realized that he was trying to protect her in case dragon-fire set the entire place ablaze, and somehow, she knew that he wouldn't be able to defend himself if she wasn't under cover. She fought back every instinct she had that told her to follow him, to help how she could, and raced for the ditch that he had indicated instead.
It wasn't much of a ditch, more of a shallow depression in the ground that had an inch of filthy spring runoff at the bottom, but she dove for it like it was home base.
The things I do for love, she thought, panicked and high on adrenaline, and then it occurred to her, twisting up to see a black dragon rise up in the sky to meet its foe, that she had used the word love.
It's true, she thought, less surprised than she thought she would be. Maybe there was something to this true mate stuff after all.
Oh Morgan, if you come back safe, if you are unhurt, if you are sound, I will tell you this over and over and over again...
Chapter Fourteen
∞∞∞
Morgan was already towering up into his dragon form, but he couldn't take wing until he saw Harper roll into the ditch. It wasn't much, but it was the safest she could be at a time like this. He turned his fury to the sky where the same dragon that had attacked them a few days ago was coming in fast.
Before it had all gone to hell, Morgan was a good fighter. Full-out dragon battles hadn't really taken place in the last two hundred years or so, but there were plenty of scrapes and skirmishes. Dragons testing each others' strength and skills were not gentle, and so he hadn't been either. He had fought with a cool head and a measured temper. He had never gotten fire-drunk the way some did, had never chased or struck when a surrender was evident.
All of that flashed through his mind as he rose, and he felt a deep sickness rip through his heart because he knew he wasn't that man, wasn't that dragon anymore.
The other dragon roared, and he returned the challenge, flying straight at his opponent with a showy plume of flame. There was a chance, however slim, that that would be enough. The other dragon might have only wanted a show of strength, a ritualistic willingness to fight. Morgan showing that he was willing to meet lethal force with lethal force might have been enough.
The dragon shied away, making Morgan think that he might get out of it yet, but then he twisted back around, his long and sinuous body describing a tight circle in the air and raking at Morgan's flank with a swipe of sharp claws.
Goddamn you, what is your problem? Morgan thought, and inside him, his dragon rose up to his skin, ready to fight and to claw. It wasn't just for pride this time, or even for survival. This time, it was pure rage
