Page 16 of King of Fire and Scales

Drake bowed in greeting. He held out his hand, and she took it without a second thought. The king brushed his lips against her knuckles, choking back a carnal growl.

Her scent would strangle him before the night was over.

“May I say you look splendid tonight, Creation Sorceress?”

Thalia blushed.

“Well, thank you, good King.”

Her voice was wispy and distant. Though she was obviously far more pleased than when he first ordered her to accompany him to the Mountain Kingdom, he still sensed something obtrusive between them. He stood, letting her hand fall to her side.

“How is your father?” he asked.

Thalia sat on the bench, regarding him with those golden-trimmed eyes, but her mind was elsewhere. The moment Sorcha arrived, all of her attention was consumed by the theorems of magic.

They had their dinner under a nearly fully bloomed moon, the temperature having faded into a coolness that was tolerable in the shade of darkness. The meal the king ate was delicious, but it didn’t matter. He could have been ingesting filth, for all he cared.

Thalia paid the king scraps of interest, nodding at his intrusion with a restless gentility. The Creation Sorceress had grown up in an impoverished, yet cultivated village, where rudeness was shamed and shunned. As was the king, but he was enough of an intellectual to know when he was being waved off.

Words flowed from her endearing mouth like a torrent. Her eyes were incandescent. Her mind was like a sponge, and as much as Drake enjoyed listening to her speak with such a feverish love of her craft, he wished it had been directed toward him.

After all, he had called upon Sorcha’s services to satisfy her. He had genuine care for Evanth and his delicate condition, but as a shifter pining for his mate, sinking his teeth into that beautiful neck was still a top priority.

Once dinner ended, Thalia gave him a courteous bow, mimicking Sorcha’s. He felt a sour taste in his mouth and tried not to show it, failing miserably.

The king said his good-byes and then walked beneath the moonlight in a foul mood. He decided to try out the tactic that had gone swimmingly the night before. But Drake wanted more than to give Thalia a ride on his dragon’s back. No, he desired nothing more than the sweet taste of her lips on his, to feel her warm skin burning against his own.

She had punctuated his dreams since they’d met. In the dreams, she wanted him as much as he did, yearning for his touch.

The king was flummoxed by her disinterest and maddened by her complex, human needs. He traveled out far into the dark as he had the night previous and shifted quietly and effortlessly.

But Drake was not drawn back to the inn by Thalia’s humming essence. Instead, a shrill scream cut through the gloom.

The king knew it was Thalia with the same certainty he knew he had wings and could breathe fire. His throat began to billow with angry smoke as a strange dragon’s head the size of a boulder shattered through the window of the inn.

It was a brilliant yellow, the color of aging leaves, and clawed through the broken building with a petrified Thalia in its grips.

His heart sank like a stone. It was one of Lucien’s comrades without a doubt. The enemy slithered out of the fragmented window and shot into the glassy dome of the sky.

Thalia’s scream echoed through the blackness. The horrifying shriek nearly emptied the king’s soul of all of its light.

Drake leaped into the air and burst forth like a cannon, narrowing his thick dragon body like a lithe arrow. He could hear his men shouting. He yelled back orders to them through their telepathic link, instructing them to fight.

Just as he began to chase after the dragon shifter that he identified as Zendel, two more dragons burst out of the ether like scorching comets. They howled, then exploded with striking power and speed toward the inn.

He continued his fervent instructions, flapping upward toward the silvery moon. Thalia was no longer screaming. She was unconscious, drooping like a rag doll in the conniving dragon’s clawed foot.

Nerin, Sorcha, take the old man and his things to the castle. Now!

It was a risk to fly Evanth on a dragon’s back in his rough state. But there was no other choice. He was being actively attacked.

Yes, My King, both Nerin and Sorcha responded in his mind.

Meanwhile, Zendel rose into the atmosphere at a cataclysmic pace. The moon’s shine bathed him in a gray, ghoulish glow. The king felt a stab of dread every time Thalia’s unconscious body flipped and flopped, terrified of the deadly drop below.

But Zendel wasn’t glancing back. His strategy appeared to be to escape Drake’s grasp by breaking through the suffocating barriers of the atmosphere.

Fortunately, the king was much more practiced in the art of battle. Even with all that was at stake, he could beat any dragon who dared to challenge him.

---