Charred Tears

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“What happens after I find my dragon?” young Skylar asked her cheerful mother. Her legs swung, not yet long enough for her feet to touch the ground at the kitchen table in the farmhouse where they’d lived for a few months.

“You protect him.”

“I know.” Skylar rolled her eyes. “But what else do I do?”

Her mother looked up from her breakfast, blue eyes sparkling in a golden complexion framed by dark hair that matched Skylar’s.

“Well, you both help protect the others, too.”

“What others?”

“The dragons and other shifters.”

Skylar contemplated this for a long moment. “We might need a bigger farm.”

“No, Sky!” Her mother laughed. “They aren’t zoo animals. You don’t keep them on a farm. When they need help, you’ll know. And then you go and help them.”

“How?” she asked skeptically.

“The answer is in the palm of your hand.”

The dream slid away. Skylar awoke to the scents of bacon and eggs cooking. She lifted her head from the pillow and looked around. She’d fallen asleep on the couch and woke up in bed, no doubt because her newly found father carried her there.

She sat with a grimace. She felt sluggish and tired despite sleeping the night. With more effort than it should take, she put her hair back in a ponytail and swung her legs off the bed to reach the cool marble flooring.

Her hair was greasy, too, a feeling she absolutely hated. She pulled free a strand and eyed it. Normally, it took about four days for her hair to feel this yucky, and she’d washed it the day before.

Gotta be the humidity. Trapped on an island somewhere near the equator, she wasn’t accustomed to the mugginess of the air.

She padded down a hallway to the open-aired kitchen at the edge of a vast living area with a near 360 degree view of the beaches and ocean around it. The contrast between the teal waters and sugary sand was beautiful this morning, and large palm trees leaned in an ocean breeze.

“I’m on a protein diet.”

She turned at the man’s voice, the peace she felt at the sight of the ocean fading.

“If you like carbs, you’re out of luck,” her father, a dragon shifter named Gavin, said.

“Fried chicken?” she half-joked, doubting he’d understand her humor.

“Nothing fried.”

Chace would get it.

The man who betrayed her – made love to her then traded her for his own selfish purposes – was probably the only who ever liked her sense of humor.

“I’m good with bacon and eggs,” she said and went to the breakfast counter overlooking the stove.

Gavin was tall, with a runner’s body and cold eyes the same color of hers. He was dressed all in black. He glanced up at her then back.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A little blah,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe I slept too much.”