Her Dragon King (Her Dragon King Duet 2)

An odd sensation fans over my flame, one so foreign it takes me several moments to recognize it as relief.

I am relieved that my she-wolf survived her pregnancy. Even if this further complicates my ultimate plan.

“My hatchling. Where is it?”

“It?” She frowns. “So you no longer think it’s a boy?”

I frown back at her, not only because I never said such a thing but also because, “Drakkon cannot be sexed until a few moons after their birth.”

“Oh…” She gives me a sad, confused look. Then lowers her hand from my cheek.

A strange bereft feeling crackles through my flame as soon as I lose the warmth of her palm against my face. And though I am her prisoner, I am suddenly hit with a strange compulsion to reassure her, comfort her, pay her rev—”

Don’t… I warn myself before I can finish that last thought.

I am warm, unharmed, and fed.

A tactical mistake on her part that she will soon come to regret.

But until then, our roles have reversed. I am her prisoner. At her mercy.

“Why are you afraid all of a sudden?” she asks me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I pause, then realize, she can feel every emotion I’m having over our mate bond. My confusion…my irritation…my reaction to her touch…and the abject fear of finding myself in such a vulnerable position. Particularly with her, the living mother of my progeny.

She is looking down at me with such pity in her brown eyes. Because she knows I am afraid.

A new resolve flares my flame. I can’t let her continue to view me this way. Or tip her off to the power she now holds over me.

I force the last of the glowing warmth I felt at her touch from my chest flame. And I deaden my side of the mate bond before demanding, “Where is my hatchling? You will bring it to me now, and perhaps I won’t make those who have helped you imprison me pay with their lives.”

The pitying look disappears from her eyes, and her expression hardens.

“Okay, I’m going to go now. Give you some time to calm the fuck down and realize that threatening me and mine won’t get you anywhere.”

“That is a recent bit of philosophy from the upright primates’ unfortunate habit toward unsubstantiated theories,” I answer. “In my experience, threats have been, are, and will always be the most efficient way to gain one’s objective.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I wonder what changed your mind then? Because Other You never threatened my family.”

Her question chills my flame because it was the exact one I had. If my jailor was who I suspected him to be, how or why had he come to the opposite conclusion of what I had decided when I realized I would have to claim my she-wolf?

Now that I am able to think clearly, the answer comes to me in the next instant.

Along with all of its implications.

You can let neither enemy nor friend see the true color of your flame.

My father’s words from long ago echo back into my present, cooling my flame. My most revered father was right. I must not let this she-wolf who could destroy everything I am working toward see how confused I am. How weak she makes me. I am a hunter. And I will not stop until I seize my prey.

“You will release me,” I command again, my tone even harder than hers. “You will bring my hatchling to me now, or I will—”

“Okay, well…” Without warning, she plunges her hand into my scaled stomach and pulls both of my seeding cocks out.

I become hard in an instant within her grip. And I can only lie there, stunned at the sight. It would have never in a thousand drakkon lifetimes occur to me to retrieve my own male works. How did she know she could handle me in such a manner?

Before I can begin to think upon that question, her stroking hand cuts off every thought inside my head. Her eyes lock onto mine as she moves her arm up and down while squeezing both my primary and secondary seeders in a tight grip.

The sensations are…unbelievable. Hot and shocking. Electric and sharp. Before I’m ready, a double volley of pleasure shoots up both of my cocks. They erupt at the same time, blasting jets of seed all over my stomach and her arm.

There is no dignity to be had in the silent moments that follow. I look down upon the mess I made on my stomach in horror. Meanwhile, Ola simply grabs several tissues from a box on the nearest nightstand.

“I see both of you like that handjob trick,” she observes with a taunting smile as she wipes my seed from her arm. “But that’s enough playtime. Get some rest and think about being nice to me instead of a domineering asshole. That’s getting real old.”