Gifted To The Dragon: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (The Gifted Series Book 2) by Amira Rain Page A
Authors: Amira Rain
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Gifteds. The whole thing was honestly kind of like a game of laser tag, and it ignited the competitive drive I'd developed while competing in gymnastics. I also liked how the "game" required physical skills similar to the ones required by gymnastics, like speed, agility, and stamina. After an hour or so of the "game," I was sweating buckets and loving every second of it.
I did, however, periodically experience a little pang every time I glanced over at Emma, who was scrolling through her phone in the seating area, looking more than a bit glum. I resolved that sometime soon I'd talk to her about the "mental block" Eric thought she had about using her Gifted skill and see if I couldn't try to help her work through it somehow.
That evening, I intended to go see Desmond and have a talk with him, but I ended up being so exhausted from Gifted practice and unpacking some moving boxes that I crashed out on my bed at eight and slept until six the following morning, finally getting the good night's rest I needed.
After showering, dressing, and having breakfast, I took the elevator up to the ninetieth floor, hoping that Desmond hadn't already left to lead his men on a morning patrol around the outskirts of the city, as Emma had told me he usually did. We were long overdue to have a few words.
CHAPTER NINE
Up at Desmond's penthouse door, it was a repeat of the night we'd had dinner. He wasn't home, or if he was, he wasn't answering the door. Either way, I eventually gave up, went back down to my apartment, and texted Emma, asking her if she had Desmond's phone number, and if so, if she'd give it to me. She sent me his number right away, and then I hesitated, wondering what exactly I should say and how I should say it.
After being interrupted by a load of laundry in the dryer being done, requiring folding before everything got wrinkled, I ended up typing out a simple, brief message, which read Desmond, I'd like to speak to you as soon as possible. Thanks. Madison . But before I could hit send , there was a knock at my apartment door. And somehow, I didn't even need to look through the peephole to know who it was.
When I opened the door, Desmond was standing there dressed in boots, jeans, and a black t-shirt, looking as insanely attractive as ever, maybe even more so because of sunlight flooding the hallway giving his lightly tanned skin even more of a glow.
"Hello, Madison."
"Hello."
"May I come in?"
"Yes."
I stepped aside to let him enter, then closed the door, and began leading him through the foyer to the living room. "Mind if we sit and talk?"
"That's fine."
Something about the way we were both being so calm and civil made me think that our talk was either going to go really well or really poorly.
Once we reached the sun-drenched living room, we both sat down at opposite ends of a fairly long cream-colored sofa. I didn't think either of us had necessarily planned to sit so far apart; it had just kind of happened. No great surprise , I thought, that a wide gulf on a sofa should mirror the wide gulf between us on an emotional level.
With his elbows on his knees, facing forward, but with his face turned to look at me, Desmond spoke first.
"So, how's your grandmother?"
I nearly roared with laughter, instead biting back a scoff.
"Oh, don't you dare...don't you even dare even act like you give a damn. You obviously don't care about me, since you slept with me and then bolted without even so much as a 'bye,' so don't you dare even act like you care how my grandma is doing."
If he had really cared, I would have told him that I'd called Eloise the day before and she'd reported that my grandma had been enjoying a string of really great days, which had thrilled me.
After I'd said what I had, Desmond just turned his gaze forward, exhaling slowly, and didn't turn his face to look at me again for a long moment or two.
"So,
I did, however, periodically experience a little pang every time I glanced over at Emma, who was scrolling through her phone in the seating area, looking more than a bit glum. I resolved that sometime soon I'd talk to her about the "mental block" Eric thought she had about using her Gifted skill and see if I couldn't try to help her work through it somehow.
That evening, I intended to go see Desmond and have a talk with him, but I ended up being so exhausted from Gifted practice and unpacking some moving boxes that I crashed out on my bed at eight and slept until six the following morning, finally getting the good night's rest I needed.
After showering, dressing, and having breakfast, I took the elevator up to the ninetieth floor, hoping that Desmond hadn't already left to lead his men on a morning patrol around the outskirts of the city, as Emma had told me he usually did. We were long overdue to have a few words.
CHAPTER NINE
Up at Desmond's penthouse door, it was a repeat of the night we'd had dinner. He wasn't home, or if he was, he wasn't answering the door. Either way, I eventually gave up, went back down to my apartment, and texted Emma, asking her if she had Desmond's phone number, and if so, if she'd give it to me. She sent me his number right away, and then I hesitated, wondering what exactly I should say and how I should say it.
After being interrupted by a load of laundry in the dryer being done, requiring folding before everything got wrinkled, I ended up typing out a simple, brief message, which read Desmond, I'd like to speak to you as soon as possible. Thanks. Madison . But before I could hit send , there was a knock at my apartment door. And somehow, I didn't even need to look through the peephole to know who it was.
When I opened the door, Desmond was standing there dressed in boots, jeans, and a black t-shirt, looking as insanely attractive as ever, maybe even more so because of sunlight flooding the hallway giving his lightly tanned skin even more of a glow.
"Hello, Madison."
"Hello."
"May I come in?"
"Yes."
I stepped aside to let him enter, then closed the door, and began leading him through the foyer to the living room. "Mind if we sit and talk?"
"That's fine."
Something about the way we were both being so calm and civil made me think that our talk was either going to go really well or really poorly.
Once we reached the sun-drenched living room, we both sat down at opposite ends of a fairly long cream-colored sofa. I didn't think either of us had necessarily planned to sit so far apart; it had just kind of happened. No great surprise , I thought, that a wide gulf on a sofa should mirror the wide gulf between us on an emotional level.
With his elbows on his knees, facing forward, but with his face turned to look at me, Desmond spoke first.
"So, how's your grandmother?"
I nearly roared with laughter, instead biting back a scoff.
"Oh, don't you dare...don't you even dare even act like you give a damn. You obviously don't care about me, since you slept with me and then bolted without even so much as a 'bye,' so don't you dare even act like you care how my grandma is doing."
If he had really cared, I would have told him that I'd called Eloise the day before and she'd reported that my grandma had been enjoying a string of really great days, which had thrilled me.
After I'd said what I had, Desmond just turned his gaze forward, exhaling slowly, and didn't turn his face to look at me again for a long moment or two.
"So,
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