Her Dragon King (Her Dragon King Duet 2)

I lift both eyebrows at that. “So there is a song you can stand after Mozart came along.”

One ripple of amusement makes it out before it gets ruthlessly crushed. “Only one.”

I spend the next hour receiving hugs and congratulations from wolves I’ve never met along with invitations to their homes. It was a good idea to put Bazzi in another wing-canceling jacket. I’m sure he would have flown up and away after the first little old lady decided it would be a good idea to pinch his cheek. It seems every old she-wolf from Lukos is an Agda.

And a lot of those little old Agdas get introduced to his little dragon screech that night. And it doesn’t take long before he’s squirming so much I have to hand him off to his much more intimidating father. No more kisses and cheek pinches, but eventually just being up so late becomes too much for him.

“Basileios is tired,” Damianos informs me when Bazzi gives into his human side and starts crying. “I will take him up to the nursery. Please stay here and party hard.”

I laugh at his foreign word pronunciation of party hard. But that’s exactly what I end up doing with my fellow wolves. As it turns out, the Greeks know something or two about how to turn it up. A DJ spins hits from all decades of recorded music and I’m never without company or a willing dance partner as I make my way through the crowd.

I would have loved to stay on the floor all night. But in the middle of a Greek trap metal song, the dragon king’s voice pushes into my head.

“It is time to give our drakkon subjects proper meeting.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

And if that’s not a good vibe murderer, I don’t know what is.

So I guess he’s back from putting Bazzi down.

I reluctantly make my way to the back of the ballroom, ignoring the hick hop jam currently playing—one of my favorites—and all wolves wondering if King Drákon has any need for such and such.

I might have asked those wolves why they didn’t just go up to Damianos and ask him themselves. But when I find him standing in the back of the room with his fellow dragons, I immediately see why he isn’t getting approached about jack. They’re all dressed formally, but with those glowing eyes and skyscraper heights, they look like a bunch of predators playing dress up. Real talk 100, if I was a male wolf looking to request something, I probably wouldn’t have the guts to step to Damianos either.

In fact, I take the last few steps to get to them way slower than the rest.

But slowing doesn’t help anything.

They all turn as one to look down at me from their towering heights as soon as I get within a few feet of them.

Then without speaking a word, a dragon in a sleek black kimono jacket steps aside to reveal a door I didn’t see before. It’s tall and red with a gold leaf dragon etched into its front.

The guy in the kimono jacket pushes the door open and the rest of the dragons fall into a sort of formation on either side of it before turning their glowing gazes back to me.

None of them say anything, but I totally get that they’re expecting me to go through. And this time Damianos does not offer me his arm.

Okay, then…

Mentally pulling up my big girl panties, I walk down the line of dragons. And I keep my chin up, even though I can feel the heat of their collective glowing stares.

However, I stop short as soon as I see what’s on the other side of that door.

A room as ostentatious as the one I just left. But instead of chandeliers, a long golden dragon fixture sparkling with lights hangs overhead. And instead of a grand staircase, there’s a raised dais, with not one, but two mammoth black thrones.

The cushions are made out of what looks like a brocaded velvet. The frame is gold baroque and intricately carved like the rest of the chairs in the house. But instead of random filigree, these carvings are of golden dragons, which makes the throne chairs look like they’re crawling with them.

Whoa… “Is that second throne for me?” I ask Damianos when he appears at my side. He must have followed right behind me.

“Who else would it be for?” he answers, taking my arm again. “You are, after all, our new queen.”

Normally this would be the part where I make some inappropriate joke. The cruder the better. Anything to knock a fancy situation off its pedestal.

But there’s something about this place. Damianos says our power is the only thing that matters, and this room is a total reflection of that. So ancient and authoritative I can’t bring myself to say something smart. Hallowed…the word drops into my mind, even though I couldn’t quite tell you what it means other than, “this place right here.”