doppelganger, I appear to be your mate.’’
‘‘I don’t understand how . . .’’ Cyrene’s voice trailed away to nothing as she sank rather less gracefully than normal into a nearby chair.
‘‘The how is not important,’’ Gabriel answered, his dimples slowly emerging. ‘‘What matters is that the impossible has happened. I’m delighted that you understand the significance of being able to share my fire, May. I never expected to have a mate, but now that I’ve found you, I am very pleased.’’
I wanted to shadow, to go find a quiet spot where I could think over recent events by myself, without any other distractions. I was a thief, dammit, a shadow walker, servant of a demon lord, keeper of Cyrene’s common sense, and responsible only for myself and her well-being. And now I found myself bound to a stranger? I shook my head. I just didn’t have experience with men, let alone dragons. The situation seemed untenable at best.
‘‘I don’t understand any of this,’’ Cyrene said, giving me a hurt look. ‘‘You do like men?’’
‘‘I’m sorry,’’ I said, dropping to my knees next to her. I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. No matter how scatterbrained she was, no matter how many times she got herself into scrapes and expected me to pull her out, she was still my twin. I owed my very existence to her. ‘‘I didn’t like deceiving you, but it seemed like less stress for everyone if you thought I wasn’t interested in men at all.’’
‘‘You’re a dragon’s mate,’’ she said slowly, as if she was absorbing this new image of me. ‘‘I still don’t . . . Are you sure we’re not both your mate?’’
Gabriel considered her for a moment.
‘‘We are identical,’’ she told him, her expression earnest. ‘‘May is an exact copy of me. Well, she’s not a naiad, but other than that, she’s my duplicate.’’
I have never minded being called her twin, but for some reason, her insistence on referring to me in dehumanizing terms rankled a bit. I stifled that as best I could; with the exception of her common sense—a trait that had been given over to me at my creation— she wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t absolutely true.
‘‘You were born,’’ Gabriel said gently, taking her hand from me. ‘‘The black dragons are cursed to never have a mate born to them.’’
‘‘But if May—’’ she started to argue.
‘‘This is a question easily settled,’’ he interrupted. His fingertips suddenly burst into flame, causing Cyrene to squawk and leap backward, yanking her hand out of his when he touched a spot on her wrist.
‘‘My apologies if I hurt you,’’ he said, bending his head over her arm. Cyrene watched with openmouthed amazement as he first breathed on the small burn mark, then lowered his mouth to it, his tongue lathing the spot.
Rage burst into being within me, startling me with both its presence and its intensity. Gabriel was licking Cyrene.
‘‘Er . . . ,’’ I said, taking a step closer.
‘‘It’s all right, don’t be alarmed,’’ Aisling said, watching them with interest. ‘‘Gabriel has the most amazing saliva. All the silver dragons do. They make a wonderful healing ointment out of it, but it’s not quite as potent as when it comes from the source.’’
‘‘Um . . .’’ I tapped Gabriel on the shoulder. He looked up with a distinct twinkle in his eyes. ‘‘That doesn’t look very hygienic.’’
‘‘I assure you, it will do her only good, and no harm,’’ he said, smiling as he returned Cyrene’s hand to her with a little bow.
We both looked. The small red burn mark had disappeared.
‘‘That was amazing,’’ Cyrene breathed, gazing at him with wonder.
I stifled the last little bubble of irritation, reminding myself that he was just doing his job.
He didn’t have to enjoy it quite so much, though, did he?
‘‘And now May,’’ Gabriel said. I looked at him a moment, wondering what sort of a man
‘‘I don’t understand how . . .’’ Cyrene’s voice trailed away to nothing as she sank rather less gracefully than normal into a nearby chair.
‘‘The how is not important,’’ Gabriel answered, his dimples slowly emerging. ‘‘What matters is that the impossible has happened. I’m delighted that you understand the significance of being able to share my fire, May. I never expected to have a mate, but now that I’ve found you, I am very pleased.’’
I wanted to shadow, to go find a quiet spot where I could think over recent events by myself, without any other distractions. I was a thief, dammit, a shadow walker, servant of a demon lord, keeper of Cyrene’s common sense, and responsible only for myself and her well-being. And now I found myself bound to a stranger? I shook my head. I just didn’t have experience with men, let alone dragons. The situation seemed untenable at best.
‘‘I don’t understand any of this,’’ Cyrene said, giving me a hurt look. ‘‘You do like men?’’
‘‘I’m sorry,’’ I said, dropping to my knees next to her. I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. No matter how scatterbrained she was, no matter how many times she got herself into scrapes and expected me to pull her out, she was still my twin. I owed my very existence to her. ‘‘I didn’t like deceiving you, but it seemed like less stress for everyone if you thought I wasn’t interested in men at all.’’
‘‘You’re a dragon’s mate,’’ she said slowly, as if she was absorbing this new image of me. ‘‘I still don’t . . . Are you sure we’re not both your mate?’’
Gabriel considered her for a moment.
‘‘We are identical,’’ she told him, her expression earnest. ‘‘May is an exact copy of me. Well, she’s not a naiad, but other than that, she’s my duplicate.’’
I have never minded being called her twin, but for some reason, her insistence on referring to me in dehumanizing terms rankled a bit. I stifled that as best I could; with the exception of her common sense—a trait that had been given over to me at my creation— she wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t absolutely true.
‘‘You were born,’’ Gabriel said gently, taking her hand from me. ‘‘The black dragons are cursed to never have a mate born to them.’’
‘‘But if May—’’ she started to argue.
‘‘This is a question easily settled,’’ he interrupted. His fingertips suddenly burst into flame, causing Cyrene to squawk and leap backward, yanking her hand out of his when he touched a spot on her wrist.
‘‘My apologies if I hurt you,’’ he said, bending his head over her arm. Cyrene watched with openmouthed amazement as he first breathed on the small burn mark, then lowered his mouth to it, his tongue lathing the spot.
Rage burst into being within me, startling me with both its presence and its intensity. Gabriel was licking Cyrene.
‘‘Er . . . ,’’ I said, taking a step closer.
‘‘It’s all right, don’t be alarmed,’’ Aisling said, watching them with interest. ‘‘Gabriel has the most amazing saliva. All the silver dragons do. They make a wonderful healing ointment out of it, but it’s not quite as potent as when it comes from the source.’’
‘‘Um . . .’’ I tapped Gabriel on the shoulder. He looked up with a distinct twinkle in his eyes. ‘‘That doesn’t look very hygienic.’’
‘‘I assure you, it will do her only good, and no harm,’’ he said, smiling as he returned Cyrene’s hand to her with a little bow.
We both looked. The small red burn mark had disappeared.
‘‘That was amazing,’’ Cyrene breathed, gazing at him with wonder.
I stifled the last little bubble of irritation, reminding myself that he was just doing his job.
He didn’t have to enjoy it quite so much, though, did he?
‘‘And now May,’’ Gabriel said. I looked at him a moment, wondering what sort of a man
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