If they had kids, they’d be dragon shifters, too. They’d always belong to Damon’s world and never to hers. None of them would ever know childhood as she'd known it.
And how would those children feel about a mother who was only human, an outsider in the shifter town where everyone knew everyone else, and where all of her children’s friends could turn into foxes or hawks while she’d be forever alone in Damon’s large mansion?
Something inside her chest was hurting. It was a ball of old pain, as heavy as a stone, stuck somewhere in her throat.
She’d already picked names for the children they were going to have. Mark had laughed and playfully argued about naming the first after his grandmother Mildred, but in the end, Autumn had prevailed.
It had been silly—but at the time, it had felt so right. It had felt as if she could see the road of her life stretching out before her. She knew every town and every landmark that road would lead past. A house, a car, then kids. Friends, retirement, grandchildren.
There was no place for adventure in that life—but who needed adventure when you could have happiness? People who wanted too much ended up with nothing at all.
Emily. Violet. Jayden. She whispered their names in her head, gazing at the pictures for a long time.
The girls were smiling. The boy grinned at the camera with Mark’s easy laugh, the laugh that had first made her fall in love with him.
Mark wasn’t Damon—but without Mark’s betrayal, she’d have married him, and she would have been perfectly happy.
Tears rolled down her face as she stood, looking at the children. She stretched out a hand, resting her fingers against the wooden frame.
Her daughter, Emily. The oldest. She’d have read books to her before bedtime and made breakfast for her in the mornings. She’d have held her in her arms when she cried and watch her make new friends at school.
Goodbye, Autumn whispered softly, the stone in her chest growing and growing until she felt as if the pain would tear her apart.
But she didn’t falter. She looked at the pictures and the small, light-filled living room as shadows closed in on her once more. She didn’t blink even once as she looked at the children that could have been until the very last moment.
Goodbye.
Then everything was dark. For a moment, all she could hear was the beating of her own heart, the pain over her loss hurting so bad that it felt as if someone had stuck a needle deep into her heart.
At last, the darkness receded, and she realized where she was.
She was still in the cave. Damon’s arms had come around her, holding her tightly. In front of her, shadows were moving rapidly across the wall of rocks, showing first a dragon’s head, then a serpent's tail again.
Tears were still running down Autumn’s face, but to her own surprise, she found that she was smiling.
As much as she’d wanted that happiness, it had never been her choice. It was Mark who’d destroyed that dream. She couldn’t have it back—even Damon couldn’t give that to her.
But what Damon could give her was happiness. It might look different. It might mean a life among shifters, with children who could do things she’d never be able to do—but then, she couldn’t play the violin either, but would have happily paid for lesson for her daughter, if she’d wanted them.
“Good,” the voice said from out of the darkness.
It was no longer quite as intimidating. It had softened with satisfaction, and now, at last, Autumn could feel the warm, golden glow of the bond sustain her once more.
She didn’t reach out for Damon’s hand. Instead, she sent her own love flowing through the bond as she straightened.
It was a different happiness—but it was happiness. Happiness so overwhelming and all-consuming that she’d happily fight fire dragons with him until the end of her life.
Damon’s amusement rushed into her, together with a wave of reassurance.
“You’ve chosen well, Damon Drago, dragon of the earth,” the chimera’s voice continued. “I am pleased.”
“Thank you,” Damon said. He shot Autumn a small smile.
“Now, tell me about what you found in Iceland,” the chimera demanded.
Damon straightened. “We were attacked three times. The first time, fire below the earth caused the road beneath us to burst apart. They attacked as we tried to make our escape. It was only one dragon at the time. The second time, they found us in the national park. Three dragons attacked. Both attacks happened in tourist spots, out in the open.”
“Those are bad news,” the disembodied voice murmured. “They are no longer content to hide.”