The dragon watched Yara leave, his gaze hardening as the door clicked shut behind her. The remnants of their argument hung in the air, a bitter aftertaste of their mixed scents. How dare she walk out on him like that?
His pride bristled at her accusations, her insinuations that he wasn't thinking clearly. Who was she to tell him what was best for his kind? She didn't understand—couldn't understand—the bond that tied him to the hatchling. It was primal, instinctual, one that all dragons shared.
Yara's words gnawed at him, irritating and persistent like a stone in his claw. He stood there for a moment, muscles taut, jaws clenched, fighting the urge to go after her and demand she took back her words. But he didn't move.
