Page 3 of Brutal Alpha Dragon

Having left the grand hall, I've taken to my quarters upstairs. Staring forlornly through the window, I'm fixated on the dome that shelters Aurora Island from the outside world. A dome that protects our species from the human world so they do not know of our existence.

Its silvery glow casts a veil around the perimeter, further than the eye can see. A human eye, of course. The dragon eye truly sees the illumination of tiny silvery specks that make up the protective layer.

Beyond the shielding dome is the human world. A world governed by nine-to-fives and measly technology. A world where mortality is the only certainty.

It's curiosity that sparks my urge to see further than that dome. I've done it before when the novelty of the human world still piqued my interest.

A novelty that died out many decades ago. Walking amongst the human race was exciting as long as I didn't have to mingle.

It's a new sense of duty that has me closing my eyes and reaching out one hand. Wielding the power I possess as the Alpha of the dragon clan, I can see through the dome.

Behind my eyelids, I project the world through the palm of my hand. I see a city—one I recognize as Seattle. The buildings, the streets…

I'd been there before.

Unsure why my powers have brought me here, I navigate my vision to the city's outskirts. Nearing the forest just as the sun sets behind the trees.

The setting sun creates an eerie darkness around my vision. Straining my gaze with a frown, I notice two flickers of light up ahead. Following those lights, I near the ingress of the woods to find a pair of eyes staring at me.

The face those eyes belong to is unclear. Just a silhouette and nothing more than deep, brown depths. Full of fiery passion, those eyes condemn me. Judge me. They're so powerful that I'm jolted from the vision, eyes opening to my reality. I've never felt uneasy before.

But whoever those eyes belong to, I know it can't be a good sign. A bad omen—a human mate cannot carry any child of mine.

Chapter 2 - Lily

“Coming through!”

Meandering through the bar-goers on a Saturday night was never an easy feat. Not when it gets busy like this. Carrying the tray of martinis toward the table it’d been ordered from, I’m calling out over the music.

My voice isn’t loud enough to carry over the blasting beats. A head-on collision with a suited man is my fate. The tray flies from my hands, sending alcohol and olives through the air. As it shatters at our feet, the pattering of glass is the only thing louder than the bleating speakers.

“Are you crazy?!” comes the suited man’s reproachful scolding as he gawks at the stains on his gray suit jacket.

My only consolation is that I’ve added a burst of color to the rather dull jacket. Stifling my giggle when that’s my initial thought, I come back to the actual problem at hand.

My manager has witnessed the ordeal, shaking his head as he makes his way over.

“Sorry,” I say, grimacing as I kneel to pick up the strewn glass. Grabbing the tray, I busy myself clearing up just as Daniel arrives behind me.

His looming presence sends a shiver down my spine. The ominous anticipation of what comes next makes me gulp. The distraction lasts long enough that I end up pricking my finger with a shard of glass and yelp from the pain.

“Get up, Lily!” Daniel yells from behind me.

As I suckle on my index, where blood trickles from the cut, I get to my feet. Wincing, I turn around and face my manager. With a disproving shake of his head, he rolls his eyes.

“That’s the second time this week, Lily,” he chastises.

Removing my finger from between my lips, I pout at Daniel. Hoping that he’d have some sympathy for me, I plead my case. “My head’s just been all over the place lately,” I admit earnestly. “I have so much studying to do, I just—”

Daniel raises a hand in midair to stop me from speaking. Clicking his tongue, he says, “That’s not gonna fly by me, Lily. You know this already.”

“I know,” I sigh, hanging my head in shame. What Daniel doesn’t believe, actually turns out to be true. But trying to make him understand is pointless.

He points a distended finger at the mess on the floor. “This is coming off your wages.” He turns to the suited man I’d bumped into, apologizing and offering a complimentary free drink from the bar.

“Wait, Daniel,” I say when he’s about to leave. “I can’t afford to get my wages cut. Can I pull more hours?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before he finally nods with a heavy sigh. “Fine,” he relents. “But only because we’re busy. Put in your extra hours tonight.”

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