Her Dragon Captor (Her Dragon King Duet 1)

In those moments it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. And that scares me even more than not being able to figure out how to let her go.

This she-wolf is inferior. A crass hothead who does not deserve my attention, much less to carry my progeny.

Yet…she makes me want things beyond the single-minded goal I have carried with me for years. Impossible things I shouldn’t even be considering.

“Reverence,” I allow myself to hiss into her ear in the old language.

The one word feels like smoke held far too long inside my lungs and then finally let out.

No, I do not let her go.

At least not right away.

And therein lies the problem.

OLA

I wake up with a start. Then groan when I try to move. I used to love running marathons back before I began my royal apprenticeship with Uncle Kyle. And right now it feels like I’ve run another one. But this time with my pussy instead of my legs.

I’m completely naked for some reason and my body smells like…I sniff. Soap. Pure soap. Without any extra fragrance or anti-viral chemicals inside of it, like most shower gels. Did somebody bathe me?

The confusion gets even worse when I try to rub my tired eyes.

Only the yank of the chain, keeps me from taking a cuff of silver directly to my lids.

At first, I’m confused.

Then I just wish I was.

It all comes flooding back. Jumping the dragon king's bones. Fucking him and fucking him, even as he told me about how he was going to kill my whole family.

When was that? This afternoon? Yesterday?

I look to the window for some context clues. But all I see is dark beyond the windows. Both starless and moonless.

Like my current state of mind, after impaling myself on the dick of my fathers’ greatest enemy. The guy who told me about how my belly would be full of his baby when he slaughtered my whole family…

For a few moments, shame and guilt threaten to overwhelm me, to drown my soul, and completely break my mind.

But no, Ola, not now. You’re not a crying-ass bitch, remember?

Something inside me rallies up a strong face emoji. I’m a queen now, so I’m gonna have to save the nervous breakdowns for later. After I figure out how to escape.

I stop the mind unravel with a big sniff of air. Okay, good…

It doesn’t matter what time it is. The main thing is I don’t smell any extra pheromones on me. That means I’m not pregnant.

Great. So I’m not a complete traitor to my race and family.

But this reprieve from the heat won’t last long. I need to get out of here. Pronto, before the dragon comes ba—

The bedroom door clicks open on that thought, and the air fills with the smell of fire and ash.

“You are finally awake. Good. You will eat. Then we will wait for your next heat to commence.”

I blink of the sight of him. He’s carrying a tray piled sky high with more food than I could ever eat in one sitting, but that’s not what I’m blinking at.

Okay, I know I’ve been comparing him to, like, the grandmackdaddy of Greek statues since I saw him in the club. But the sight of him makes me think about the debate that raged over whether to put underwear on the rebooted version.

In the case of the New Colossus of Rhodes, the prudes who crowdsourced the project won out.

But the Greek statue standing in front of me is exactly what all the historians consulting on the project claims a man from that era would have been underneath his clothes. Full commando.

With one super important distinction. There was now nothing hanging down between his legs. He looks like the Greek statue version of a Ken Doll…no nipples on his chest and pale white scales where his abs and pelvis should be. Also, I’m pretty sure New Rhodey doesn’t have webbed feet.

Have I said what the Fenrir wolf enough yet? Here’s one more: What the freaking Fenrir Wolf?!

So many questions, but “Hey, where did your dicks go?” ends up winning out.

“Unlike your poorly-designed species, drakkon keep their male works tucked away until they are ready to procreate.”

“But your dicks were out when I copped a feel back at your villain lair.”

An irritated look flickers across his face. And instead of answering, he sets down the tray. “Eat now.”

The scent of lamb dripping in olive oil and rosemary hits my nose as I pull the meal into my lap.

I’m glad for the food but sad to see there’s no silverware on the tray. Just cubes of cheese and a mountain of dates and dried apricots.

Too bad, I could have used a knife or a fork as a weapon.

“If there is something you’d rather eat, I will relay your preferences to Colby.”

“I get a say in what I get to eat?”