Alistair and I nestled up together on the bed, locked in each others' arms, still gasping as we came down from our mutual orgasm, still enveloped in our own private world of intense passion. Feeling his hot body against mine made my heart beat faster, and I grinned as he kissed the top of my head. In a languid few moments of post-coital bliss, it was like we were the only two people in the world, and no problems existed.

But then, before I had even managed to get my breath back, my phone, on the table by the bed, buzzed. I felt like I barely had the strength to reach over and pick it up, but with an effort, I did so and checked the message.

It was from Janet, asking if she could bring round some soup to make me feel better.

A lump formed in my throat as I texted back: 'No. Don't want you to catch whatever I've got.' Then a smiley face.

But, all of a sudden, I didn't feel very smiley face. Sex with Alistair might have successfully put the problems of the outside world on hold, but it had not solved them. That message was typical of Janet—always looking to do something nice for the people in her life—and there was a good chance that I would never see her again. The thought physically hurt me as it brought with it the associated thoughts of friends and family, returning in a rush.

I turned back to Alistair, looking for comfort, looking for him to hold me and make me forget it all again. But one look at his face told me that was not going to happen. As Janet's message had brought the real world back to me, so the phone's sharp intrusion had burst the bubble of our private world for him, too.

Guilt was writ large across his face. He probably knew that he had nothing to feel guilty for—Catriona was long dead—but it felt like a betrayal of her memory, and he struggled with it as anyone in his situation would. I was the first woman he had been with since Catriona's death, the first person he had connected with since her. He would need time to process.

As if in response to my thoughts, Alistair swung his legs off the bed and stood up.

"I should go."

"Okay."

I wasn't exactly glad to see him go, my desire for him was too strong for that, but somewhere beneath that desire I was relieved.

What I felt for Alistair—what I felt for all of them—was overwhelming to the point of being scary. I'd wanted men before, emotionally and sexually; I'd even wanted men to the point it felt more like need. But those feelings paled in comparison.

What I felt for my Dragon Shifter men seemed beyond my control, something that I had no say in; and that did frighten me. It was easy, for a short while, to give up control of yourself and hand that over to a man, let him take the reins. It was easy, and it could be a lot of fun, too. But that was a sex thing—in real life, I wanted to retain my grip on my existence, I wanted my brain making my decisions, not my libido. I didn't regret how I felt for the guys, but I wasn't always comfortable with it. If I had decisions to make—and boy, did I have decisions to make—then I wanted to make them with as clear a head as I could, and I couldn't do that with any one of them in the room. The feelings didn't go away when they left, but at least I felt a little more in control.

Alistair picked up his scattered clothes from the floor—the shirt could probably not be salvaged—and headed for the door without putting them on. His casual comfort with his own nakedness was something I instantly found deeply attractive, a feeling that underlined why I had to be on my own for a while to get back some sense of self.

Alistair turned as he reached the door. "I don't know what your plans are now. However hard MacKenzie sounded this morning, I know he—we all—will try to help you any way we can. We're just trying to keep you safe."

"I know," I said, feeling like a child after an argument with an over-protective parent.

"Time is of the essence. The drakes are massing and they're growing bolder. In the past, they've only attacked us when we're alone, but now they know of your existence they may well come looking. The only advantage we have against them is surprise—we need to move fast to make that count."

"Do I really have a decision to make?" I asked. This morning it had not sounded as if I was being given a choice.

"Life is decisions," said Alistair, grimly. "You decide whether to sit back and rail against events you cannot change, or to stand up and be the difference."

With that, he exited, leaving me wondering exactly what “difference” I was in a position to be.

What did I want?

I wanted to see my family again. I wanted to help the MacKenzie clan survive. I wanted to go back to my real life and become a teacher. I wanted to be with MacKenzie, and Duncan and Alistair and Callum for the rest of my life. I wanted to help them defeat the drakes. I wanted...

I felt a sharp shock as the thought entered my head and I knew it to be true.

I wanted to bear their children.

That was a lot of wants, many of which contradicted each other. But if those were what I wanted, then damn it, they were what I was going to fight for, regardless of what anyone else told me.

When I returned to the dining room, the guys were still assembled around the map. I cleared my throat as I entered to get their attention.

"I'll stay willingly…if you let me help defeat the drakes." The first part of the sentence relied on everyone—or at least someone—surviving the second part, but I was happy to err on the side of optimism.

"You're MacKenzie clan material and no mistake," said MacKenzie, “we'd be honored to have you help.”

The others looked to him in grim surprise but then finally nodded.

I suspected that they were all thinking the same thing. That they'd throw me a bone and let me help, but not in any real sense.

They were in for a shock.

"We've got some ideas," said Callum, indicating a chair for me to sit in. "But anything you'd like to add to them we'd be glad to hear it."

"You're more than just a pretty face," nodded Duncan—it was a good thing I loved him so much. "I bet you've got some brilliant ideas for strategies and things.”

I shook my head. "I do. But I think you may be misunderstanding what I mean when I say 'help'. I'm coming with you."

I'd spent a disproportionate amount of time since arriving here, staring at these four men in disbelief, and it was very satisfying to have them staring at me for once.

“No ideas. I want to fight by your side. I’m not going to sit here in the castle while you go off and put your lives in danger for me. If there's dragoon blood in me—and you've convinced me that there is—then this is as much my fight as it is yours. Besides," I became more serious, "I couldn't sit here wondering if I'm ever going to see you again. I couldn't stand that. You know how I feel about you—all of you—and I couldn't stand that."

Their response was immediate and predictable.

"Absolutely not."

"Not a chance."

"There's no way."

"We know you mean well."

"But, no."

The words came at such a pace that I couldn't even tell who had said what. It was a wave of negativity, and I let it wash over me without a qualm. I had expected it, I was ready for it, I knew how to answer it.

"Yes." It was amazing how eloquent a single syllable could be.

The torrent of dismissals was clearly about to start again, but MacKenzie held up his hands. If he sometimes seemed the most old-fashioned of the group, I felt he was also the one who respected me most.

"I know you want to do this, Ella. It does you credit. And I think in a fair fight you would be more than a match for these bastards. But you can't shift. You're a human against a dragon—of a vile sort—and that sort of fight only goes one way. You say you don't want to lose us? We don't want to lose you. And when it comes down to it, you are more important than us."

"We'd give up our lives for you," Duncan butted in, earning a glare from MacKenzie.

"What if I'd give up mine for you?" I asked, levelly.

"I know you would," said MacKenzie, keeping Duncan silent with just a look. "But we need you to do something more, something braver; we need you to stay behind."

"I won't." My mind was made up. "I know you think I'm small and weak."

"Well, with all due respect..."

"But I'm quick, too, and I'm smarter than any drake. I helped Duncan against them."

"And almost got killed," MacKenzie pointed out.

I played my trump card. "You'll protect me."

Mackenzie sighed. "If we're protecting you, then we'll be less able to fight."

"They outnumber you two hundred to one," I pointed out, "if you're lucky. Exactly how much of a difference will having me there make?" MacKenzie started to reply but I cut him off. "Alistair told me that the only advantage you have is surprise; yes?"

They all nodded, genuinely wondering where I was going with this.

"Well, does anyone think they'll be expecting me?"

"Well, no," Alistair admitted, possibly regretting his words earlier. "They won't be expecting us to attack wearing a ginger wig and carrying a sponge cake in each hand, either—that doesn't mean it's a good idea."

I hardened my stare. "You're standing here, planning a glorious defeat. Don't deny it—you've decided to die for me. Well, I don't want you to. And you know what? If I'm there for you to protect, I think you'll be a whole lot more eager to stay alive so you can keep protecting me. In the meantime, I thought you said dragons had magic? Some of it must be of some use to me. Well?”

I could tell they wanted to argue more, but MacKenzie held up a hand as he took my measure…read the truth in my eyes.

We would all go together or I would walk away, alone and unprotected. That was that.

They looked at each other sheepishly. Clearly, none of them were experts on magic and they had been using the same spells for the last few decades.

"There might be something in the old books," admitted MacKenzie. "But I wouldn't know where to start."

A grin spread across my face.

Nothing made my teacher’s heart happier than research.