Page 111 of Oath of Revenge

“Not yet,” the man said as he waved a hand. The men set his back onto the ground so his bonds no longer pulled. Even as he struggled, he could feel his wounds stitching themselves closed. The net over the cart moved as the others came awake.

“First, tell me what you’re doing here, Growler.”

Wulfric ground his teeth together. “I’m here to broker a treaty with the dragon, but if you don’t let me out of this, it’ll mean war.”

The man laughed, and a puff of green smoke sank to the ground as he stepped out from the direct line of the sun. Wulfric took in his stubby horns, the green scales on the side of his head, the knot of brown hair at the top, all things he’d initially not noticed from the angle on the ground.

“Don’t you think there’s enough war going on in this godforsaken land?”

“You’re the dragon, Scarlet’s brother.” Wulfric eyed the beast. They both had freckles all over, but this man’s were more scaly than true soft freckles like his mate’s.

The man bowed slightly. “Knoxious Clawson, king of the Feral Forest, at your service. Now, tell me the truth. What’s a band of Growlers doing with my sister?”

“I’m telling you, I’m here with Scarlet. I would never harm her,” Wulfric growled, struggling anew at his bonds. “Ask the druid woman. She knows. Let me go. Where is she? Scarlet!”

He roared the last word and took a deep breath to yell again. But the dragon was faster, swiftly cutting his ropes and grabbing him by the throat. Pressed into the dirt, Wulfric stilled, his hands on the dragon’s arm.

He could fight, but this was Scarlet’s brother. She wouldn’t be pleased if he was harmed.

“Shut up, you’ll wake my mate,” the man growled.

“Then tell me where my mate is, and let me see that she’s safe,“ Wulfric’s claws lengthened on the dragon’s arm.

Their eyes met, and Wulfric’s burned as he held the stare. Finally, the dragon frowned and backed away, dropping his hands and rubbing one on the back of his neck.

“Hells, explain yourself. What do you mean mate?” the dragon asked, the gargoyle standing behind him with arms crossed.

Wulfric stood slowly, naked and proud with claws held at the ready at his side. “I mean what I said. Scarlet is my fated mate. She’s in the castle. I can feel her, but I can’t tell if she’s injured from our fight with the eagles.”

He paused as the dragon stared at him, green smoke sinking from his nose.

Wulfric’s chest was tight, and finally he said softly, “Please.”

The dragon king blinked and took a deep breath before waving the two men away. “That’ll be all. Thank you.”

“Wait,” Wulfric said as they started to walk away. “She shifted to fight the eagles. That means her cape, her daggers—they’re still out there. Can you fetch them?” At his words, the gargoyle walked around them toward the cart.

One of the men who had held him captive straightened and murmured, “We’re not fetching shit for the likes of you.”

The gargoyle waved to the cart. “For fuck’s sake, her cloak and daggers are in the cart with the other Growlers.”

The dragon clapped a hand on Wulfric’s injured shoulder, making him wince, and met the two men’s gazes. “That was very thoughtful of you, Growler. It would mean a lot to the Huntress to have her cloak and weapons safely back beside her.”

“The Huntress,” the other one whispered in awe.

Knox let go of Wulfric’s shoulder and dismissed the two men. “That’ll be all. Thank you for your assistance. Oh, and just so we’re clear, the Growlers will be treated as our guests as long as they behave accordingly. We don’t speak to guests in such a disrespectful ways, understood?”

The two men shuffled on their feet, eyes cast down as they nodded. “Aye, your highness.” Finally, they left and Wulfric could breathe a little easier.

“Did you mean it?” he asked as they walked away.

Knox’s dark gaze met his, the intensity of it sending a shiver down Wulfric’s spine. “Until Scarlet says otherwise, you and your men are under our protection.”

Wulfric gripped Knox’s offered hand tightly, relieved by the dragon’s show of trust. Knox matched his strength before releasing their handshake before they could start a pissing contest on grip strength. As they approached the cart where the trapped Growlers were tied up, one of them snapped his jaw aggressively at the gargoyle guard.

Wulfric quickly intervened. “Enough! You heard what our host said—we are guests here.”

The Growler whined, “Then why are we tied up like prisoners?”

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