Delilah stepped closer and stroked his lower jaw. “I bet all the female dragons love Draxxinar because you’re just so big and beautiful. The most good-looking dragon I’ve ever seen.”
The scaly giant grumbled a purr-like sound and melted under her touch, fixating on her every word. I didn’t even know he could make that sound. I’d never seen him so… happy.
I clenched my fists at my sides because I already knew where this was going, and I didn’t like how accurate it felt. He thought highly of himself. Always had. The largest wingspan. The fiercest bite. The most feared roar, and yes, his size.
I supposed we had that in common.
He was usually terrifying and mean as shit. That’s what I loved about him.
But I didn’t recognize him right now. Delilah turned to me with a victorious smirk.
“Alright,” I barked, irritated. “You made your point. Let’s go.”
I scooped her up like a bushel of wheat and carried her on my hip as I climbed up Draxxinar’s wing to the saddle. She protested—“Hey,” and “Put me down”—and started pounding her fists on my thigh.
It felt like getting hit with a slice of bread.
"Stop fighting,” I muttered. “If you fall, you die.” I sat and placed her on my lap.
Draxxinar’s long neck swiveled. His massive head hovered only a few feet away. And he looked enraged, angrier than I had ever seen.
I commanded him to fly, but for the first time ever, he did not obey. Instead, he glared at me and released a low, threatening growl.
Was this fucker really going to turn on me? Try to eat me?
I swore I would kill him and mount his head in the great hall. Then I noticed Delilah was still thrashing against the straps and cursing at me.
No fucking way.
Was he upset because the human woman was in distress? I commanded him again. He ignored me.
Then he began to unleashed a ferocious roar, startling us both.
I immediately covered Delilah’s fragile mortal ears. Even mine rang violently. Warm liquid seeped from my ears, and I realized— grimly—that I might be bleeding.
Delilah froze mid-tantrum. She reached for the scales on his back and closed her eyes.
Draxxinar huffed—once, twice—then slowly settled. Finally, he closed his yellow reptilian eyes.
With her eyes still closed and her hand still on his back, Delilah said, “He’s not fat and lazy. He’s depressed.”
I said nothing.
My mind was still processing that my own dragon had nearly turned on me because I handled a mortal woman too roughly for his
K. ROSÉ
liking. I was even more disturbed that Delilah calmed him, and now she was communicating with him somehow.
What in the actual fuck was happening?
Only high-born, high-blooded magic Fae males could ride dragons. How was it possible that this mortal woman could connect to them in a way I had never seen?
Fae could communicate with their own bonded dragons on some level—not with words, but with shared emotion. Danger. Hunger. Rage.
As angry as I was at Draxxinar, curiosity clawed harder. “You can actually hear words?” I demanded. “Like their voices?”
She nodded. “Yes. At first I wasn’t certain. The small brown dragon’s voice sounded like a faint whisper. I thought I was imagining it. But the more time I spend with them, the clearer it becomes.”
