Hidden Embers by Tessa Adams Page B

peace she had given him. He knew under normal circumstances she would have been able to change the tire herself—probably faster than he could—but she was injured, her body healing from something that had nearly ripped her apart.
    His smile faded when he realized that he still didn’t know how she’d been hurt. He’d done his best to dispel the pain, to help the injuries heal more quickly, but she was human, not dragon, and he could only do so much—especially when he was still so drained from what he’d done with Michael.
    As if he’d conjured it up with his thoughts, that same strange, searing pain he’d felt while making love to Jasmine the night before sizzled along his bicep. Glancing down, annoyed, he froze as he watched a tribal band magically work its way around his arm, winding its way through the other two he already possessed until it was completely joined with them—becoming as much a part of him as the other bands were.
    Eyes widening with a huge, alarming heap of what-the-fuck, he prodded it with a finger, then hissed out a curse when his fingertip blistered at the first contact. Bending closer, he examined it without touching it, and what he found was far from reassuring.
    This band was different from the ones he’d had since puberty. To begin with, it was much more ornate—much more feminine—than the other two, one of which joined him with Dylan, and one with the other sentries. Even more important, it wasn’t black like the other two. It was a deep, dark violet almost the exact color of Jasmine’s eyes.
    Shock ricocheted through him as he stared at the band, telling himself that it couldn’t exist. It couldn’t have happened that quickly, that easily. It just wasn’t possible. And it sure as hell couldn’t have happened with Jasmine. She was human, for God’s sake.
    And yet, there it was, no mistake about it. He’d seen enough of these through the years to recognize exactly what it was. His own father had had one in gold, and now, after years of searching for a mate, Dylan finally had one in the same bright blue-violet as Phoebe’s eyes.
    It was a mating band—magical, pure and completely irreversible. Even death didn’t make it fade. He and Jazz were now joined for eternity.
    Inside him, his dragon screamed in triumph, its claws raking at him in a way that told him it had recognized her all along. That’s why it had tried so hard to get out and get to her in the bar the night before, why it had been there right under the surface while the two of them had been making love. The dragon had wanted to make sure that Jazz was claimed—not just as Quinn’s mate, but as its own as well.
    Why the hell hadn’t he recognized it? Why hadn’t he figured things out before they’d ended up tied together like this?
    His legs went a little gummy underneath him, and Quinn sat down on the bed, hard. What was he going to do? How was he going to explain this to Jazz without coming across like some crazy, fucked-up stalker?
    He thought of the pepper spray attached to Jazz’s keychain and the hard-ass look in her eyes when she’d talked about the assholes who had hassled her the night before. Yeah, he could totally see this thing going over really well, especially when he mentioned how uncomfortable it was for mates to be separated for longer than a few days.
    Oh yeah, she was going to love this—probably about as much as he did. The question was, how would he tell her? He couldn’t exactly blurt out the truth. She’d be gone so fast, her tires would probably smoke as she shouted over her shoulder that he needed to check himself into the nearest mental institution. And he wouldn’t even blame her. It was exactly what he would do if someone came to him with the fantastical story he was about to tell her—at least, if he didn’t already know the truth about the things that went bump in the night.
    His heart started to beat double time, even as he told himself not to panic. He could take this