Twin Dragons, One Choice
To keep the peace between humans and shifters, those chosen by the Oracle are forced to mate with their bound partners.
And me? I was forced to be the shared mate of twin black dragons.
Every night, I brewed two glasses of moon-wine to help them sleep.
The older brother, Kaelen, was cold. But when he took his glass, his scalding fingertips would brush my wrist in a silent promise, and he’d murmur a soft thanks.
But the younger one, Cassian? A vicious temper. He’d smash the glass, hurl insults, and crush me with the weight of his dragon aura.
I had been lying to myself. Walking on eggshells. Desperately keeping a fragile peace.
Until a fellow apothecary told me the truth. She hesitated, then said:
"He treats you like dirt. The other one is gentle. Why do they both get the same precious moon-wine? How is that fair to the one who actually cares?"
I thought about it all day. She was right.
Late that night, I left the apothecary in a sheer silk robe, carrying only one glass of moon-wine.