Jaxon
Was it one, or two? Shit.
I reached for the notes I had taken last night, desperate to do something to take my mind off what was happening behind the closed door just out of my sight.
2 spoons sugar, my scratched writing read. It was barely legible from how tightly I had been holding the pen in my hand. At least I hadn't snapped it like I had the last one I was using to record the previous Earth recipe Zev had walked me through.
Right, I nodded to myself, confident I was following the recipe correctly.
Reaching across the counter, I grabbed the jar filled with rock sugar, a healthier alternative to the human version the recipe used, and searched for the measure I had witnessed Zev use. Finding it, I measured out the appropriate amount and dumped it into the bowl holding the other contents needed to make pancakes, a sweet breakfast food humans enjoyed. Twisting the lid back on the glass container, I went to place it back in its designated location, knowing Zev was a stickler for organization.
Before I could safely place it on the countertop, a drawn-out breathy moan reached my ears.
Jerking uncomfortably at the sound, the glass slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor, shattering. Suddenly, the giddy excitement my dragon had been feeling in preparation to feed our mate switched to anger and hurt.
An involuntary growl left my lips as my eyes locked onto the broken glass and sugar that now coated the floor at my feet. I rose my foot and it off as my dragon was tried to force me to turn my eyes towards the door the sound had originated from. He knew the surge of anger the sight would bring would give him the upper hand he needed to take control and barge in there.
Gritting my teeth together, I crouched down and began to pick up the sharp pieces of glass. The action was better at calming my dragon down than I would have expected, making it easier to bear having to hear the noises that followed the first and gradually grew in volume. That was until the sight of blood and broken glass started replaying the memories of Zev grinding Neas's hand into porcelain as tears streamed down her face. What made my stomach twist further in nauseous was the memory of how amusing I had found the sight at the time, laughing at her pain with my dragon who now hid his face in shame.
Guilt twisted my heart. I had laughed and encouraged it. Why? Because I let the wrong people dig their way into my mind. I had put the burden of guilt on her for actions she didn't commit. We had all turned her into a scapegoat for the atrocities other women had committed against us or other men.
For once, my dragon backed down on his own, curling up and hiding in the recess of my mind. He felt unworthy of going anywhere near the warmth Nea's end of the bond radiated. He didn't want to taint it.
The only other time I had ever felt unworthy was when I had watched my father's back disappear into the thicket after he abandoned me in the wild. Mother had finally gotten him to get rid of the runt, his only child. She had others with her other husbands, but only one with my father.
And it was a disappointing one, too.
She had been trying to get him to abandon me ever since I was born weighing half the weight of an average baby. Her want to be rid of the shame I brought the family only grew when I didn't shift by the age it was expected I would.
I tightened my hold on the large piece of glass I had just picked up. I didn't ease it any when my skin gave way, letting the sharp edge cut into it like the soft butter I had melting in the pan on the countertop burner. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to block out the images my dragon sent to the front of my mind as punishment.
