Page 10 of The Dragon's Mate Proposal

The cavern door opened a sixth time, and a different dragon walked in. I watched in curiosity as the torchlight flickered and danced over his scales, illuminating their golden hue. The head came lower, the horns rising from the top of its skull curling up and toward the back, giving it a menacing air.

Its head swiveled between me and the two other women who remained. Snorting, smoke curled from its nose, and the smell of brimstone filled the air as it fixed its gaze on me. I stood a little straighter, staring right back at the beast. I even lifted my chin in mild defiance as we locked eyes for an extended period of time. Smoke continued to curl upward from its nostrils.

There was no way I would run screaming. If the dragon intended to burn me to a crisp medium-rare before he ate me, I would face it head-on. With whatever dignity I had left. I would be stronger. Tougher than that.

“You,” the dragon rumbled without shifting into human form.

“Me?” I squeaked in the most terrified, unbrave, undignified whimper possible.

“Yes.” The dragon turned and walked from the room, moving with surprising grace on four legs, its wings tucked on either side of its long sinuous body.

I glanced at the other women.

Good luck, one of them mouthed at me. I gave her a half-smile, and then followed the dragon from the room. Behind me, the floor rumbled upward, cutting me off from the only other members of my species. Where the first five women were, I had no idea. Gone.

No words were exchanged as I followed along in the near perfect darkness, stumbling over the uneven floor, struggling to keep up with the much, much bigger strides of the dragon. I couldn’t, however, and fell farther and farther behind.

Finally, the beast stopped with a sigh.

“This is too tedious,” it said.

“You could try shifting into your two-legged form, like all the other dragons did,” I suggested. “Or turning on a light, so I can see where I’m going. Either one would help immensely, you know.”

Fire flared without warning, and I scrambled backward, afraid I was about to be charred for speaking up.

“Let’s go,” the dragon said instead, the ball of flame hovering in front of his snout as he extended a single burnished gold wing out straight.

I stared blankly. “Huh? Go where?”

“Away from here,” he snapped irritably. “Let’s go already.”

I continued to stare, which just produced another sigh of irritation.

“You know,” I suggested none-too-politely, “if you’d like me to do something, you might try this newfangled thing called words. Like an adult. I don’t know if dragons are telepathic or something, but we humans aren’t, and I have no idea what you want me to do. So, try speaking.”

Gold eyelids narrowed to slits, and once more, the scent of brimstone overwhelmed my nose. Swallowing was abruptly more difficult thanks to the giant lump stuck in my throat.

The snout pulled back to reveal rows of dragon teeth, and I prepared myself to be the worst human-sized chicken wing that dragon had ever eaten.

“Ha!” The single beat of laughter echoed down the tunnel in both directions.

I didn’t speak. Was that a sarcastic laugh? A precede to gobbling me up like an unbasted half-rack of ribs? I was no slow-cooked brisket, that was for sure.

“Use my wing,” the dragon said in even-keeled tones. “Climb up it and onto my back. Then I’ll fly us out of here, so we don’t have to waste time climbing to the end of the tunnel. It’ll go much faster. Trust me on this.”

“I have exactly zero reason to trust you,” I said, “I don’t even know your name or anything about you, so why should—FLY?”

The first half of his explanation hit me abruptly.

“Yes. You know. With my wings?” He flapped them gently. “See, words.”

I glared, using that to try to process the sudden primal terror locking my limbs up tight.

“Is—Is there a human seat somewhere?” I asked nervously, looking around. “A dragon saddle or whatever you call it?”

“Yes.”

I sagged in relief. Perhaps I could manage that, then. Being tied in would—

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