Free Origin Exposed: Descended of Dragons, Book 2 by Jen Crane Page A

Had they known about me? Tried to find me? No. Gresham and Lochlain’s conversation indicated my pedigree was a surprise to everyone.
    ‘ I imagine she wants to meet her father’s people ,’ he’d said. Damn right I did. But I knew nothing about someone named Gaspare, or even where to start looking.
    ‘ He wants to meet her, though I’m hesitant for obvious reason s.’ The reasons Gresham might be hesitant were not obvious to me. I needed more information.
    “I haven’t forgotten that something suspicious is going on with you and Gresham,” Ewan whispered roughly in my ear. I shivered, less at his words than his tone, which indicated he wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied he knew every detail of the day’s altercation.
    “It’s none of your business,” I whispered back and turned from him to discourage any further inquiry.
    “The hell it isn’t.” He yanked my chair so that I faced him again. “You’re my business, whether you like it or not. And stop trying to fix me up with Emrynne. With anyone. I don’t need your help when it comes to women.”
    “Yeah, I noticed,” I grumbled.
    “Good. Keep your nose out of my bed. Unless you want to be the one in it, in which case you’re welcome any time.”

Chapter 11
    M y cheeks heated at the brazen invitation. My brain short-circuited and I couldn’t form a response, though other parts of me had responded. I could so clearly imagine being in his bed, his big body rising over mine with the forceful confidence that manifested in everything he did. For a few naughty moments I allowed the fantasy to go on, imagining the feel of his rough hands reaching beneath—
    Ewan was the one clearing his throat for attention this time. I glanced away in an attempt to regain my composure. What are you thinking, Stonewall ? I shook my head to clear it. I shouldn’t be having such thoughts when I was involved with Gresham. Well, actually, I probably wasn’t involved with Gresham anymore. I was fairly sure that ship had not just sailed, but had crashed into the rocky cliffs of secrecy and betrayal.
    As I accepted the development, realized the loss of Gresham, I waited for my heart to break.
    Waited.
    But it never did.
    Was I furious that he’d kept things from me yet again? Yes. Humiliated that I was so naïve as to think Gresham had my best interests at heart? Mm. Hmm. Supremely ashamed that I’d been so stupid? You betcha. But heartbroken? No.
    And that didn’t surprise me. I was Stella Stonewall, after all. Never did a girl possess a more befitting name. At twenty-two I had yet to be in love. My boyfriends over the years had always complained that I was “unemotional.” I had a history of breaking things off when someone was headed for heartbreak, and that someone was never me. But…I wasn’t opposed to love; I’d just never known it.
    I’d never loved Gresham. I was attracted to him, had come to depend on him, to appreciate his knowledge and experience, to like and respect him. He was red hot in the sack. But love was never a consideration, and thank god for that. All the better to get over him.
    But just because I wasn’t heartbroken over Gresham didn’t mean I should hop right into a relationship with someone else. No. This thing with Gresham was a lesson learned the hard way. And I had always been a good student.
    I came crashing back to the present when Emrynne said, “Next time, Stella, you can create your own damn wards.” She put as much force in her words as her willowy little body could muster. Though the actual effect was as intimidating as a good scolding from a kitten, I nonetheless felt guilty. She’d heard Ewan’s reprimand…and his offer.
    “Good luck with that ,” my faithful and supportive friend Timbra muttered from the side of her mouth.
    To Timbra I shot a discreet “Good luck with this ” finger. To Emrynne I gave an apologetic look. “Thanks again for your help.” It was the only thing I could say as she stomped