Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
The female does not respond. She just keeps on pushing at my grip, trying to wriggle free. There is a strange skin hanging over her limbs, one that smells of old hands and touches. I do not like it. I uncurl my grip around the female, and with a flick of my claw, rip the covering from her body.
She lets out a cry of distress.
Have I harmed her?
Violence suddenly floods into my mind. Violence and anger. My breath comes hard and fast, and fire licks at my nose. Someone has hurt my female? Someone has tampered with her?
I will destroy them.
I will destroy them all.
9
JENNY
"Those are my clothes!" I cry out as the dragon casually shreds my dress with one claw. "What the fuck!"
He makes a sound of anger, and then flames start to dance along his nostrils. His eyes have gone entirely black, and there's a low growling in his throat.
I freeze in place, terrified.
I've waffled back and forth with fear and indignation ever since the dragon appeared. The logical part of me knows that the dragon is somehow attached to me. That this is Mhal, the friend from my dreams. But the reality of it feels strange. He's enormous and terrifying—he's still a dragon, after all—and there's no sign of the calm, amusing, somewhat smug voice I remember from my dreams.
It's like the two pieces don't line up.
I cup my hands to my breasts, covering them, and stare up at the dragon that's looming over me. The Mhal in my dreams didn't have a face or a body. I didn't know he was one of the dragons that Azar kept on the walls. Of course he'd be the freaking scariest one. He's the scarred one with the chipped tooth and the wild features, the one that looks as if he's taken on the world and won. The one that looks like he'd eat the others for dinner.
Somehow this doesn't jive with the kind Mhal of my dreams.
And I'm supposed to just…sleep with him? Make a baby? With this guy? This dragon? I stare up at him, anxious and worried. His eyes are whirling an ominous black and flames dance on his breath, even as he reaches for me and drags me close to his breast again. I'm snagged in a burning hot dragon embrace and shoved against his scales—also burning hot—as the dragon paces the empty warehouse like a watchdog.
I honestly don't know what to do.
The dragon's tail lashes out, flicking back and forth as he lowers his head and stalks along the edges of the warehouse, his nostrils flaring as if he's drinking in the scents of everything. This pings a thought—Azar knows there's something about scents that sets off dragons. It must be why we're constantly told not to touch each other, why we can't bathe except one day out of the week, and why we're constantly giving away our panties so they can use them to lure dragons.
They're scent lures.
Okay then, some sort of scent here must be bothering him.
"Let's look at this logically, shall we?" I keep my voice nice and calm, as if I'm talking to a rabid dog.
The dragon turns back to me, those black eyes swirling, but I catch a hint of color in them. It quickly disappears, and I'm hit with a sense of déjà vu.
I remember this dragon. I remember him watching me from above on the barricade. I thought it was in my imagination, but now I know. "You've been trouble for a while, haven't you, Mhal?" I put a hand on his scales and pat him. "And right now you're freaking out because you smell something? I think? Or maybe you're confused."
I chew on my lip, studying my surroundings. It's really just an old, empty warehouse without anything to look at. I can't imagine what he's smelling. Azar? The guards that dragged me in here? I'm guessing but I have no clue. He might not even be mad about that.
He might just be…mad.
I glance up at the dragon. "This would be a lot easier if we could have conversations like we do in my dreams."
The dragon sits on his haunches and pulls me up toward his snout, as if peering at me. I keep a bright smile on my face, even though I'm terrified. How the hell did Rachel tame a dragon if they're like this? How did she get together with hers? I wish I could ask her, but something tells me that Mhal isn't going to just let me excuse myself for a few hours to cross through Fort Dallas and find my friend.
Besides, I'm kinda naked.
Those big nostrils flare again and he sniffs at my skin, then lifts a claw, almost like a finger. I shrink back as the enormous thing heads for my face. "Can we—can we not do this? I promise to stop talking if you don't rip my face off," I babble in a panic, my voice rising as the claw moves unerringly toward my mouth. "Please don't!"