they met had been for her? What were the words? Should he just say, "Hey, Ellie. Long time no see. Well, yeah, I was meaning to call, but I got a lead on the Chimera, tracked them down, went in without backup, and damned near got myself killed."
“Way to sound like the man she needs, Ranger, you big dope,” he growled under his breath. “You’re a real catch, there, my boy.”
Unconsciously running his fingers over the long, jagged scar decorating his ribs, Ranger remembered precisely how it felt to be impaled with a sterling silver sword. His skin burned with the memory. His blood seemed to boil. It was hard to breathe. He was… He was…
Up on his feet, Ranger damned near ran across the room to get to the window. The talons of his Dragon pushing through the tips of his fingers, the sharp points dug into the wooden frame as he threw it open and gulped the hot, desert air. Sweat poured down his back, his hands shook, and his vision blurred.
His Dragon, Carradoc, wanted out. He wanted to fight the invisible menace, the dark figure in their memories. Smoke pouring out of his nostrils, the Dragon King snarled, "All you've got to do is let me take control. I'll end them all." So enraged that his Scottish brogue was thick in Ranger's mind, it took the Guardsman more than a few seconds to understand.
“Fuck!” He panted, still trying to stop the panic attack that was doing its best to take him under. “Can you stop this shit?” He mentally growled to his Dragon.
“You know I cannot. This is your battle and your battle alone.”
“Fuck!” Ranger cursed again, this time letting the rage burn away the panic, the memories.
How could he go to his Mate like this? How could he expect her to understand his weakness? His fear? His inability to heal the fucking scar that was a constant reminder of his failure?
"You march your happy ass over there and tell her the truth," Barbara MacAllen, the matriarch of the MacAllen Clan of Dragons, mother to Ranger's best friends, and pretty much the only mom he'd ever known, snarled. "What the hell is it with you boys? You think just because women have breasts, we don't understand heartache or pain or having shit happen that you just can't wrap your head around?"
Swatting at his shoulder, she kept right on going, “Y’all do know that we’re the ones who go through childbirth, right? We’re the ones who have to watch y’all grow up, stand by while you skin your knees after we told you not to do whatever, watch shift for the first time knowing it’s gonna hurt like hell, stand there waving while you go off to fight, all the shit that tears our hearts out of our chests, right? Pfft! Buck up, Buttercup. Ellie MacLeish is one damned fine woman. She’s known her own share of heartache and loss. There is no way in Hell she would ever look down on you for being human.”
Poking him in the chest, making him look her in the eye, Barbara insisted, “You do remember your human half, right? You do know that having weaknesses and using them to your advantage only serves to make you a better person, a better man, a better Mate? I did teach you that right along with my boys, didn’t I? I’m sure I remember saying all these things about a million times over the years.”
"Yes, ma'am," Ranger mumbled, finally able to draw a breath and speak without sounding like a wounded pup. "You did, and you are right."
Cupping her hand over her ear, Barbara leaned closer, a telltale twinkle in her eye. "What was that again?" He knew she was working hard to keep the chuckle out of her voice and loved that she couldn't as she kept right on picking at him. "Can you say that a little louder, so I can commit it to memory, please? It does a momma good to hear that she's right every once in a while."
“You. Are. Right. Momma Barbara,” Ranger snickered, just as Zach, the fourth in the line of MacAllen brothers, and the one he felt the closest to most of the time, walked into the room.
"Oh, shit, now you've gone and done it," he pretended to be upset. "She'll be high on her own ego for a damned week." Slapping Ranger on the back, he added, "I was sure I taught you better. Never