A Kingdom of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 3)

One thing I hadn’t properly realized as I was walked or dragged past Mr. Baritone or even Vemar—they were fucking huge. They were the same kind of big as Nyfain, especially Mr. Baritone. He stood tall and proud and confident, shoulders held back and huge arms dangling at his sides. What must he have looked like before he was imprisoned? Even in the darkness I could see the scars running down his body, not unlike Nyfain’s. He didn’t have a powerful bond mate to help him circumvent the pain. His pain tolerance—all of their tolerances—would be incredible.

These guys aren’t going to be any fun to tangle with, I thought miserably. Especially in my current state.

Deep breath. Another. My head cleared. Pleasure zinged around my body.

Muffle that bond, I told my dragon.

I did. Start trying a little harder to feel the fucking thing.

I grimaced and sent rage and annoyance through the bond. I felt a command for him to cut it out. I had no idea if he’d understand, but it was the only idea I had as Vemar worked closer, awfully slow now. Suddenly he was trying not to make any noise.

He stopped when his fingers touched the first bar of my cell. He lifted his hand until he was grazing the upper bars. He stood tall, about Nyfain’s height, mostly straight-backed now but with a little stoop he’d probably earned from this place and would likely never see the end of.

He wasn’t smiling for once. His dark brow was furrowed in focus as he carefully made his way past the bars, working toward the door. I pulled my hands back, but didn’t move yet. He was close enough to grab. I could yank him in, turn him, and get hold of his neck before he knew what hit him. I could kill him a moment later.

Though what if it wasn’t a key he had, but something to pick locks? I didn’t know how to do that. It would be no good to me.

Then again, an attack from a mad dragon wouldn’t do me much good either.

He edged along, his fingertips skimming above, his body coming evenly with mine.

I held my breath, taking his measure. From a distance, I’d thought him lanky. I’d expected him to be weak and frail. And, compared to his former self, maybe he was those things. But not compared to me. He might look starved, but he wasn’t much smaller than a healthy Jedrek, and I knew his prowess and dragon rage would make him explosive in a fight.

Fuckity limp-dicks.

The breath almost went out of me. I’d always been larger than the other women in my village. Larger than many of the men, even. But I had the feeling I was not large for a dragon. Because I knew that Mr. Baritone was bigger still.

Watch, folks, as I very quietly walk with him to the door.

Even my inner commentary was a whisper. My whole body shook with the tension of the moment. They had me fucking trapped in here, and this was a dungeon—there were no rules.

No one in the dungeon made a sound. No one twisted or moved in impatience.

I heard the soft footfalls of Vemar, and I prayed he didn’t hear mine as I gingerly stepped around the straw. Pain met the softest blossoming of pleasure as it radiated through my body, providing a strange sort of nulling effect.

Nyfain hadn’t just understood the note—he’d done the situation one better. That guy was great in a bind.

I continued along, mostly keeping pace, careful of my step. Good thing Jedrek wasn’t very good at housecleaning, and I’d never felt drawn to spread out the straw the way it was when we first got here.

Vemar reached the door before me and paused, his eyes narrowing, his head cocked. Listening.

I stopped one step away, a little straw between me and the door. The silence hung heavy with expectation.

His eyebrows very slowly drew in together, as though something wasn’t quite right. He stood like that for a moment, his brow furrowed, his body still. Then his head slowly turned until his face was pointed my way even though his eyes looked a bit to my right. A smile stretched across his face.

“You are getting ready to kill me, aren’t you, Strange Lady?” His voice was filled with held-back laughter. “You are a smart one.”

I stayed where I was. This could be a trick. He could be guessing.

He didn’t move forward. Neither did I. I wanted to see how he would try to get in.

He rolled his head, then his shoulders. He chuckled to himself before reaching forward again and grazing his fingers against the upper bars. He lowered his hand slowly, stepping back as much as he could while still making contact with the very tips of his fingers. When they reached about the height of my chest, they lingered.