Page 31 of Bred By the Dragon

Zakarion blinks like he never even thought about it.

“Hmm.” He scratches his chin. Then, with a brief shake of his head, he gestures with one hand for me to follow him. “There’s much more to see, and we don’t have a lot of time until the sun is fully down.”

Right. We’re here for a reason.

Zak leads me out of his treasure room to another hallway, which descends downward at a steady pace. It grows narrower as we pass, and I want to reach out and hold onto his tail in case we get separated down here.

Then we emerge into another room, not as large as the last one, with lower ceilings. Wooden cases with glass faces rim the walls. Zakarion retrieves a torch and carries it to the first case, the flame shining across the display.

“What is this place?” I ask as Zak hands me another torch. I almost drop it because I’ve never held fire on a stick this close to my face before.

“The Museum.” Inside the case rests a curl of stone with a snake’s head at the tip. “This is Medusa’s hair,” he says.

I gasp. “Medusa’s actual hair?”

Zak just nods, and I have no reason not to believe him.

He shows me everything in the Museum, all sorts of treasures dating back thousands of years. There’s so much history, so many pieces of time preserved here.

“Did your parents acquire these?” I ask.

He nods toward a painting on the opposite wall. “My mother purchased that before she died,” he says. “She appreciated art, and met the painter personally.”

“I’m so sorry about your mother,” I say. “What happened to her? If I can ask?”

Zakarion’s eyes wander away from mine and travel aimlessly upward, as if he is remembering something long past.

“A disease,” he finally says. “It is what took many of the dragons of her age, when we were already few and far between. It stained her scales gray, until finally it took her life.”

Zakarion’s shoulders curl forward, and I reach out to stroke his back. “I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I have had time to grieve, and my pain is much smaller now than it used to be. But it’s still there. Losing her was miserable, but when my father grew heartsick...” He closes his eyes. “It wasn’t long after that when he passed away, too. As is the way with dragons.”

I stare at him. “That’s common?”

He nods, clearly lost in his memories. “Yes. Dragons bond deeply, in our souls. When one of the pair dies, the other typically follows soon after.”

The steady thrum of my heartbeat speeds up, growing louder in my ears. Now I know with complete certainty that what I feel for Zakarion is doomed. There can never be anything between us. If ever he reciprocated, if we tried to have a relationship beyond this hatchling, I would be sentencing him to an early death.

A shudder runs down my back. I couldn’t do that to him. Not ever.

I’m quieter as he shows me the rest of his collection, then Zakarion treks on to a series of smaller rooms. As we walk and explore, I try to push the ugly thought out of my mind. We have an agreement for just this reason. Avoiding a romantic entanglement is simpler, and much safer for Zak.

The rooms down below are cozy, and they must be his living quarters. The main room has a fire pit and a hole carved into the ceiling that brings in fresh light. An adjoining room is full of animal pelts and embroidered throw pillows. Here, Zak clears his throat, then pulls the curtain closed over the room again after showing it to me.

Oh. That must be his bedroom. It looks so warm and soft, I’m disappointed when we walk away. As we return the way we came, I can’t help but think about how comfortable and lovely that big nest would be to sleep in.

Soon, though, we emerge into the treasure room again. I can see outside the cave from here, and the evening light is quickly fading, leaving a periwinkle horizon in its wake.

Zakarion walks up beside me, and ever-so-slightly brushes his claws over my hip.

“Are you ready?” he asks, bringing his long neck down so his snout is very close to my ear. “After tonight, you’ll be growing my hatchling inside you.” His hand lands on my back and curls around my hip, until his palm is up against my belly. I’m wracked by a full-body shiver.

“Yes.” My breath is already coming faster as his hand splays out across my stomach, and he shifts himself to stand directly behind me. “It will grow right here.” I cover his huge hand with my tiny one. His other hand cups one of my breasts, and then he slides a claw over the tip of a nipple, through my shirt. I gasp as he ducks lower, tracing his hand down toward my ass, his hot breath brushing the shell of my ear.

“And which cock will be so lucky,” he says in a low, rumbling voice, “as to plant it?”

I imagine both of those thick, swollen things inside me, and a gasp escapes my lips. My hips roll back of their own accord, so my ass is pressed up against his belly.

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