Her Dragon King (Her Dragon King Duet 2)

This reveal does what my other words could not. Her defiant chin finally drops.

I have another pair of custom contacts waiting for me at my Greek estate. But perhaps I won’t put them back in right away when we land. Watching the twist of her flame as my words fully sink in gives me that much satisfaction.

No, I did not take my revenge back in North Dakota as I had been planning since waking up shackled to that kingdom house bed. And yes, I let her candy-coated visions of our future sway me from my goal.

But that did mean I wasn’t still in full control. Of myself and of her. This triumph proves—

“Queen of Drakkon.”

Her voice inside my head makes me snap my eyes back to hers.

And I find her not dissolved into piteous tears, but once again holding her chin up with her chest thrust out. There are also twin flames blazing in her eyes. “I’m not your prisoner. I’m your queen.”

I stare down at her, my entire body aflame.

She stares up at me. Defiant despite her circumstances.

“You will not win this battle between us,” I promise her, my voice dark and sinister.

Both drakkon and wolves have quivered at my voice, but she merely smirks. “Look, Triple D. You’re an asshole and I’m a bitch. Both of us like getting our way.”

“I will get my way.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Insert whatever threat here.” She shakes her head.

Then raises one hand, not to punch me in the throat as she did the last time we argued, but to once again cup my cheek.

“You’re not going to keep me prisoner, because I’m not planning on going anywhere. I made you a promise, so that means you got me. For life. No supervillain stunting required. You plus me. Ruling over shit. This is our happy ever after. And we’re going to figure out how to make it work. Together.”

Together…

It is an impossible fantasy she spins. She is my prisoner. My father’s death requires retribution for the dishonor bestowed upon him. Eventually, I will take my revenge upon her family, including her sister and The Betrayer King. After that, as she said herself, she won’t be able to keep any of the promises she made to me at the kingdom house.

Yet with her hand upon my cheek, I feel my own flame flutter with uncertainty.

Together.

The word whispers inside my plane as the drone speeds us toward my estate.

Chapter Thirteen

I wake up the morning after our North Dakota escape. In a huge, soft bed. On the second floor of the full-on castle Damianos called his Greek estate.

I sit up and stretch my arms as vague jet-lagged memories of Damianos depositing Bazzi and me in here last night blip through my mind.

The suite he gave us is crazy-over-the-top. I’m talking floor to ceiling silk drapes, stained glass windows that were probably painted and installed by somebody from the Renaissance era section on the syllabus for my college art history class. There’s also a balcony perfect for either looking out on to the sparkling Mediterranean Sea or professing your poetic love to that boy Romeo your parents hate so much. The furniture is heavy, dark, and carved in a way that makes me think real hands, not cold machines were involved.

Seriously the only thing modern in the whole place is the King Poppa oversized T-shirt I’m still wearing and the automatic bassinet Damianos produced out of nowhere for Basileios last night.

Speaking of which, I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and get Bazzi something to eat.

But when I drop my legs down over the side of the bed my heart stops. The bassinet is empty! Where is he? My wolf instinctually gives the room a big sniff. But I can’t smell him either.

I’m just about to go into full-on panic mode when the arched doors to the suite crash open.

“You’re awake finally. Good.” Damianos says as he enters.

My heart stutters again. He’s got Bazzi with him. Not in his arms, though.

The baby…our baby…he’s flying, his wings creating small whumps as he beats them against the air to keep himself afloat.

“Bazzi! WTF, kid?” I ask, my eyes widening.

When Bazzi sees me, he lets out a happy gurgle and comes zooming straight at me.

I jump off the bed, and just barely manage to catch him when he literally flies into my arms. “You’re flying now?”

Bazzi lets out a screechy sound, that I can only translate as, “Yeah I’m flying, Mom, but I still can’t talk.”

I look over at Damianos, truly astounded. “I mean, I guess I knew this was possible. The twi—” I catch myself at the last moment from referring to the twins. Other Damianos knew. But the one standing before me is still too evil to be safely told about my hybrid nieces.

“He didn’t even flutter his wings back at the kingdom house,” I say instead.