Taming My Rebel: A Dragon Shifter Romance by Sadie Sears

Author:Sadie Sears [Sears, Sadie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2020-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

13

Mae

I lay in my bed, looking at my ceiling. I wasn’t really seeing it or even checking out the dust web in the corner that Grandma was perfectly happy to overlook if cleaning tried to have too much of a claim on her time.

Draven’s confession of his feelings last night on the bench whirled around and around my head.

As happy as his words of love had made me—and they had sent my heart soaring—I’d held myself back from saying anything drastic in return, scared of how I felt if it could lead to his pain or mine. Even now, I held myself tense beneath my comforter, my fists clenched and my jaw tense so I wouldn’t leap from my childhood bed and go to confess my love for the man I’d just met.

But it was too soon to be real.

And it was too soon to depend on his pretty words, no matter how much I wanted to. As much as I didn’t want Charlie in my head, and rarely let him resurface there, he appeared now—all smug grin and reminding me I’d never be truly good enough for anyone to love.

Kailen had always told me I should forget him. In fact, she’d been advocating for that very thing the night of Saul’s party. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t get Charlie out of my head or the idea that, actually, I wasn’t very lovable.

I didn’t expect to be loved.

At least not by anyone without the genetic predisposition. Grandma kind of didn’t count.

I couldn’t guarantee Draven truly cared for me. Not long-haul love, anyway. Not the kind that kept him from flying away if someone younger, hotter, prettier caught his eye. I couldn’t guard against someone better showing up. Well, I could—I could do it the same way I always guarded against it—by not allowing myself to get too attached.

I didn’t want another broken heart.

The smell of coffee roused me from my contemplation, and it was accompanied by something else…bacon. Draven might make mean pancakes, but no one made bacon the way Grandma did.

I quickly washed and dressed and made my way quietly down the stairs before lingering in the kitchen doorway and watching as Grandma handed Draven a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage patties and toast. He set it beside a steaming mug of black coffee and picked up his fork.

“Thank you.” His voice was a low rumble, and Grandma smiled in response.

“How did you sleep?” She didn’t always bother with pleasantries, so she obviously cared how Draven had found his first night in her home.

He tore off a piece of toast and held off popping it into his mouth as he answered. “Very well, thank you.” His polite deference to her pleased me.

Grandma wheeled around and switched on the vintage transistor radio that always kept her company in the kitchen. It seemed to play static more than music most days, but Grandma said she could always hear the song playing—although perhaps sometimes she just sang whichever song she felt like singing rather than anything the radio station might actually be trying to play her.

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