Page 58 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

“Yes to the clothes,” he said, conjuring more. This time he gave her a blue shirt, to match her eyes. “As far as the walking, no need. I hope.”

his dragon said.

Emon sighed.

“What?” Trish asked.

“My dragon is an asshole.”

“At least he talks to you.”

He heard the bitterness in her voice. He wished he could convince his dragon to persuade Layla to talk to Trish. Open up some kind of communication.

No shit.

Will you carry Trish back to the castle or not?

Dramatic dragon sigh.

Stand back,” Emon said. “And don’t get near the teeth. Just in case.”

Trish backed away, and Emon Changed. He knew what he looked like. Huge, black as night, deadly barbs all over his body. Some of them held venom chambers that injected poison into whatever they penetrated.

His dragon let out a huge roar, and breathed lightning into the air above them. Then he waited to see what Trish would do.

Brock hadn’t been scared of him, but Brock was, well… Brock. He was six years old and he trusted everyone.

Steeling himself, Emon looked at Trish, who was staring at him. Not in terror—not even with awe.

With delight. And amazement.

“Wow,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen you in the sunlight before. You are… breathtaking. So beautiful.”

Beautiful?

his dragon echoed. But he sounded uncertain. He lowered his head toward Trish, as if he wanted to get a better look at her.

No biting, Emon said. Please.

Trish was walking around him, still staring. “The sunrise reflects off your scales. Red and orange and purple. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous.”

Tentatively, he reached out with his mind, to see if he could see what she was seeing.

With shocking swiftness, a full picture jumped from her mind to his. A black dragon on a cliff, shimmering with the colors of the sunrise: a creature of glittering, awesome beauty.

That’s how she saw him. His dragon was stunned into silence.

“Can I touch you?” she asked softly.

He crouched down almost without realizing he was doing it, and extended his neck a bit further, so that his head was just a foot away from her. Everything in him yearned for her touch.

She reached out a hand and gently brushed it across his nose, tracing the bony ridges over his nostrils. Then she walked along beside his giant head, trailing her fingers over his scaly skin.

“These tiny scales are so soft!” She ran her fingers across his eye ridge, caressing it. His eyelids dropped half-shut, and he suddenly had the urge to purr.