Not long after the two servants deposited the items, filled and heated the tub, then bowed out of the room—never meeting her eyes or saying more than two words to her—one of them returned with an armload of folded linen squares that Sarah assumed were meant to be her towels. Sitting atop the towels was a silver hairbrush that looked straight out of the Victorian era, along with a matching hand mirror and a decorative comb that were probably from the same era.
The servant presented these items to her like offerings, holding them out at arm’s length, her head down and eyes fixed on the floor. As soon as Sarah had taken them, the servant backed away, head remaining down, slender body trembling as if she feared Sarah would beat her if she dared to look up.
Once Sarah was alone, she finally had a chance to think, though her surroundings provided an interesting distraction. She’d stared at the greenery-cloaked stone walls for long enough. She’d already spotted the seat with the hole in it that she took to be a toilet. It had another crank beside it, and yet another crank beside a basin sitting atop a stone shelf on the wall that would put it at waist level.
She was in a bathroom, and apparently, the yan-kanat liked their bathrooms to look like jungles, for some unfathomable reason. It was good to be in a bath tub, though she would kill for some soap, and definitely shampoo and conditioner. She figured she was just lucky they gave her an exfoliator scrub to remove what felt like layers of dirt and filth.
Despite her focus on hygiene, her thoughts remained fixed on Jotaha while she scrubbed her skin, then wet her mass of tangled hair, adding some of the exfoliator to scrub at her scalp.
He was in love with someone else, but told Sarah she was his mate. This wasn’t how the fated mate thing was supposed to go. Sarah loved paranormal shifter romances that always had the fated mate trope. She’d preferred that type of romance, because it meant the guy wouldn’t leave if his mate suddenly fell inconveniently pregnant. In fact, in the romance novels, the obviously gorgeous and usually rich hero would be thrilled about the news that a baby was on the way.
Jotaha wasn’t a shifter—she didn’t think—but he wasn’t human either, and apparently these aliens also had a “fated mate” thing going. It figured that she would get the alien who didn’t want his mate. A mate chosen for him by a volcano dwelling she-dragon goddess, instead of some innate recognition of the other half of his soul.
That explained all the dragon art everywhere. Paintings and statues and tapestries and vases and sculptures, all covered with dragons in every possible sinuous pose. Obviously, they worshipped the mythical beasts—that were also obviously not so mythical in this place, given her memory of the city built on the bones of a giant dragon.
She shivered at the thought that there were real dragons, but then again, the existence of lizard men had also been shocking to her at first.
Before she’d walked across that seam, she’d lost all belief in anything magical after her parents told her that if she didn’t go with her mother to that fateful appointment, she might as well pack her bags and move out. Sure, they’d claimed later that they didn’t expect her to actually leave, but they’d also made few attempts to reconcile with her during the pregnancy, only coming around after the baby was safely in the care of her adoptive parents to tell Sarah she could move home again. As if she could ever forget that their love and approval had a price.
Instead, she’d remained at Beth’s house, then eventually had to move out of there, living out of an old van she’d managed to purchase with money saved from her job and some cash from Beth. Never, in those rough years, had she entertained the idea that such wondrous things as magic heat stones, or mythical dragons, or sexy lizard men could possibly exist in the same universe as internet challenges and Instagram selfies and Black Friday mobs where people fought each other to save a few bucks on coffee makers or televisions.
She seemed to be safe, for the moment, and that meant she had time to truly evaluate her situation. She barely knew Jotaha. Not really. Despite their time together, she’d never actually understood him, and he’d never understood her. Was it any wonder he wasn’t ready to toss aside a lifelong love for a virtual stranger—an alien to him at that? Was she even being fair to be so hurt and angry by what felt like his rejection?
He would have chosen someone else for his mate, if he’d been given the choice. That was a hard truth to acknowledge, but it gave her a starting point. She had to decide where she went from there. It was clear the yan-kanat didn’t like humans. The servants were terrified of her, and she doubted it was because she cut an imposing figure. Slender as those delicate females had been, she didn’t think she could take them down in a fight. Not with their sharp teeth and claws.
Returning home would probably be the choice that would leave her heart most intact, assuming she could find a way to get back to her own world, because she was sure now that this wasn’t Earth. Not with giant, city-sized dragon bones just lying around in the open for any satellite to spot. The caves were the key, she suspected, that would lead her back to her old, boring, dragon-less, and Jotaha-free world.
The bugs in her head could probably guide her back to the seam, though she wasn’t sure how to communicate with them, if she even could. They were clearly able to give her knowledge of the yan-kanat language, so they must be able to interface with her mind in some way, but they didn’t come with an instruction manual, and she had no idea where to even begin when it came to communicating with them. That, and the idea that they were inside her body at all still creeped her out. If she hadn’t been so grateful to them for killing the parasites in her stomach, she probably wouldn’t be taking their presence as calmly as she was.
Then there was her other option. She could remain in this world, and maybe—someday—she could figure out a way to make Jotaha love her, and not have the other yan-kanat scurrying away from her like she was the boogie man. Maybe she could prove herself to them all. Prove that she wasn’t like the worst of her kind, and somehow teach them that humans had a good side to them too.
She could speak their language, and apparently, having the bugs inside her was a good thing as far as the yan-kanat were concerned. Jotaha had them inside him too. She got the idea that he was respected because of his glowing scales, which she now understood came from the bugs. That unpleasant yan-kanat that lived in the geode had stood down when Jotaha glowed, like he was chastened by the sight of that bioluminescence.
Farona was the sticking point though. Sarah had never been very confident of herself when it came to being lovable. She was introverted and socially awkward, and there was nothing remarkable about her physical appearance that would make her more appealing despite those obstacles. Even the things that a human man might like about her—like her long, thick, wavy hair—wouldn’t appeal to the hairless yan-kanat.
She was already at a disadvantage with Jotaha. Farona was his childhood sweetheart. That was an impossible situation for Sarah.
Wasn’t it?
He’d brought her here. He seemed like he intended to keep her as his mate, even though he was still in love with Farona. She wasn’t sure she could commit to someone who loved another woman, but he had grown angry when she’d suggested leaving.
That should have sent up a red flag, but instead, she’d taken it as a good sign that he didn’t want her to leave, even if he wasn’t in love with her. She couldn’t help that little part of herself that wanted him to be possessive of her, unwilling to let her go, even though she knew that wasn’t healthy in most relationships—human ones, at least. She had no idea what constituted a healthy relationship for the yan-kanat.