Page 70 of Rescued By The Dragon

Zerk’s cottage came into view over a small hill. The wooden cabin was covered in vines and plants. A stone walkway led from his steps to the dirt road he used to make trips to town. Zerk liked to walk, unlike most dragons that flew everywhere.

He said it kept him in touch with his human side.

“It looks cute.”

It looked disheveled and abandoned on a good day, but Zerk loved the isolation.

Lacing my fingers with hers, I tugged her up the hill and down the valley toward his house. The older I got the more I understood Zerk. He lived away from everyone because most people sucked.

Stepping onto his porch, I lifted my hand to knock when the door opened with a whoosh. Zerk looked the same, not that I expected him to change being a dragon.

His greying hair was long to his shoulders, and his daunting black eyes were lined with eyeliner that I pictured on a pirate. The odds he’d brushed his hair in the past week were slim to none.

His being however old didn’t stop him from looking any older than his late 30s, but the useless cane and grandpa sweats told it all.

“Dorran, The Dragon Prince, it’s so good to see you.”

He leaned in for a hug and pulled me tight. I had many memories with Zerk, and every one of them was good.

“As good as it is to see you, however, a bath wouldn’t hurt, Zerk.”

“You’re such a pussy. Real men stink.”

Zerk’s gaze lowered to Amara, who stared at the jagged scars across his partially hidden wings. “Another dragon did that to me. The bastard,” he mumbled. “But he’s sleeping for eternity now.”

“Good to know. Wouldn’t want a dragon to burn me up.”

Zerk smirked, his gaze moving to mine. “Unless it’s this one, right? I’m assuming your mates by the mark on your neck, and Dorran’s inability to keep his eyes off you.”

“You guessed right,” Amara said.

“About damn time, Son. Where are my manners? Come inside.”

Zerk pushed the wooden door open with a creak, allowing us both inside his home. It was as I remembered it as a child when our mother would bring us here every time we coughed.

The old wooden furniture still smelled the same, and the rocker he used the most looked on its last leg. I made a mental note to have a new one made for him, but knowing him, he probably wouldn’t use it.

A hissing pot of tea on his stove called him over. “Have a seat. Do either of you want some tea?”

Amara shook her head.

“Just one cup, please,” I hollered.

He came back with two cups and handed me one. “Now, I assume you aren’t here for trivial chitchat. How can I help the two newlyweds?”

Amara shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with a piece of string from her jeans.

“Don’t all speak at once,” he said, tasting his tea.

“We want to test Amara’s blood.”

Zerk’s thick brows lifted up his forehead. “Yeah? Do we think she’s pregnant?”

“No!” she shouted, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Well,” I said, turning to face her. “Tell us how you really feel, Little Mouse.”

Her face turned red, and she chuckled. “I just mean ... no, not yet.”

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