Sitting white and gleaming on the top tier, like the finest jewel in the crown, is King’s Keep, or Burner Keep, currently named for the clan that resides within. Two towering waterfalls spill down the back of the exquisite structure, and the mountain range bordering Paragon City and Four Tiers is known as Talon’s Reach, but drakes often refer to the giant sleepy peaks as The Ancestors.
I stare at the crowning jewel, and I can’t help but wonder how different my life would have been if I’d grown up within those walls like my father intended. I would have been raised among my kind, revered and indulged. I’d never have known hunger or terror. The cracked lands of The Scorch would be nothing more to me than a distant designation on a map. And I’d be soaring through these skies as a dragon instead of dropping to my death, the dead weight of a cursed drake.
Far below, groups of dragons are landing in a large clearing off to the side of Thrasher Keep. It must be Lorn and the guards that swept him off to safety. If only I led with the wholeI can’t shift into a dragonthing instead of explaining the ins and outs of the Syphon breeding program first. Then again, how was I supposed to know some asshole was going to toss me through a portal without discussing whether or not I was okay with it?
I don’t know where Aeson thought I was hiding a dragon mark. The clothes I stole barely cover my tits, and my torn skirt is only hiding one and a half ass cheeks and a thigh. I was prepared to die at the hands of The Horde, so this really shouldn’t piss me off, and yet my fury is simmering hotter and hotter because I didn’t see it going down like this. I expected martyrdom not mortification.
I do my best to try to angle myself toward a small body of water I’ve spotted in the lower part of Paragon City, but it’s useless. Attempting to navigate myself anywhere without wings or a tail is beyond impossible.
The high-rises of Paragon City start to look like lethal spikes as I fall closer, and I know without a shadow of doubt coming face-to-face with them is really going to fucking hurt. Shoving that useless thought away, I grit my teeth as another growl grows in my throat. Every muscle in my body tenses for the impact that’s less than sixty seconds away. My snarl morphs into a challenging scream as I prepare to go head-to-head with a building and lose.
Forty seconds.
Thirty.
Twenty.
Teeth clenched. Hands fisted. Mouth dry and eyes watering from the rush of air, I brace for impact.
Out of nowhere, a shadow falls over me. Talons wrap around my body unexpectedly, and suddenly I’m plucked from the sky like ripe fruit from a tree.
Violently, I slam against a scaled palm when it halts the trajectory of my fall. The hit knocks the wind out of me. I struggle to breathe, staving off the panic that’s trying to rise from the sudden lack of air. I know it will come—any second now my lungs will recover from the rough impact and inflate—but it feels like forever before I wheeze in a desperate breath. Stars flicker in my vision as I gasp and recover, the dragon’s grip almost punishing as it tightens around me.
I hate that I’m relieved.
I hate that I had to be rescued.
And by The Horde no less, which adds insult to injury.
My body starts to shake from the dump of adrenaline in my veins. The pulse pounding in my ears thumps a distinct warning oftoo close, too close. The hard flap of heavy wings slows our momentum, and I can tell that we’re coming in for a landing. I brace for a rough impact, but the final descent and touchdown is way smoother than I thought it would be.
Other large bodies set down all around us, and the faint sound of frantic voices breaches the dragon’s fist I’m still stuck within. Light suddenly spills through the seams of the dragon’s claws as it opens its hand and dumps me roughly on the ground. The impact is jarring, but I manage to keep the air in my lungs this time as an annoyingly familiar black dragon starts to shift back into his drake form next to me.
Cool grass caresses my cheek before I roll onto my back, reveling in the surprising development that I’m not dead. The clearing I was dropped in is teeming with busybodies, both of the dragon and drake variety, but I’m in no hurry to get up and become part of the mayhem. I should rally. I should be taking advantage of this time to study the shifted dragons and look for any anatomical weaknesses the Syphons might not know about, but it’s been a long ass day, and I feel like I’ve earned a moment.
“What the fuck was that?” Aeson snaps, his shadow once more crawling over me as he stomps in my direction. “That’s the second time you put yourself at risk by not revealing. What is wrong with you? And I swear if you give me that road pancake bullshit again, I’ll take you over my fucking knee.”
“Technically, it’s the third time,” I croak from the ground.
His answering snarl sends a warning shiver up my spine.
My temper rises to answer his call.
The commander clomps into view. I aim a seething glare at him, only for my fury to momentarily sputter out because there’s not one stitch of scale armor crawling up his body.
Nope.
For some reason, he’s butt ass naked. It probably has something to do with how irate he looks right now.
I know I should look away. I should lasso my retreating rage and go for the jugular. But the thick corded muscle that’s everywhere, the cut abs that dip down into a mouthwatering V, and the thick cock that’s hanging low between a pair of beefy thighs has my tongue feeling like cement in my mouth.
His dragon mark covers his full chest and shoulders. The onyx flames continue down his burly upper arms, stopping just above his elbows. I can see hints that his back is covered. However, I’m not about to ask him to spin for me. Although a peek at his ass wouldn’t go entirely unappreciated.
Parts of me, ones I refuse to acknowledge right now, clench at the sight of him. Need pools in my center, and I grow warm in anticipation of an offer that’s not being made. I shove my unwelcome baser instincts away and focus on what he’s snarling at me about.
“No more games,Princess, I want answers, now!” Rancor drips from the demand, and I look up into a mask of scorn. It’s exactly what I need to banish any lingering lust and get a white-knuckle hold on my resentment.
He leans over me, the position meant to intimidate as he dangles his metaphorical and literal dick in my face. With that, I officially hit my limit of bullshit I’m willing to put up with.
