Page 13 of Burned

Goose bumps rise along my skin. I’m just glad they’re not my scales instead. There’s a clear threat in Alrick’s voice, but my body isn’t reading it that way. My cock starts to swell and a different kind of heat churns in my gut. This is exactly why I’ve taken such care to keep my dragon under control. The beast is nothing but instincts and hormones, as if confessing to Alrick that I’m a dragon will earn me a rough fuck rather than igniting a battle between us that will ultimately end in both our demise. I can’t kill him without killing myself, and I don’t think I want to. But he doesn’t know that.

I can’t bring myself to lie either though, so instead I choose my words carefully.

“I don’t believe in the vicious, violent, uncontrollable beasts you described.”

Alrick’s expression turns even stonier, his jaw working back and forth for a moment as if he’s contemplating calling me out on the way I skirted answering the question. But after a second, he nods and doesn’t say another word on the subject.

ALRICK

I watchLord as he moves around the kitchen, gathering mugs for us and pulling out every possible thing a person could choose to add to their tea. It’s like I told him—caution and vigilance have been drilled into my head. If I notice the way his pants hug his ass when he turns his back to me or the captivating orange hue to his irises, it’s all just part of my reconnaissance.

The teakettle whistles, and he lifts it off the burner. My gaze zeroes in on his hand wrapped comfortably around the metal handle without an oven mitt to protect his skin from the heat. If I needed confirmation of my hunch that he’s a dragon, this is close enough to a smoking gun for me.

He fills both cups and returns the kettle to the stovetop, then he grabs a cartoonish dragon shaped cookie jar out of a cupboard and places it in front of me among the rest of his offerings of milk and sugar and honey.

Come on, now he’s just taunting me with his refusal to admit what he is. I look at the cookie jar and then back at him, arching an eyebrow wordlessly. A blush rises in his cheeks and my breath catches in my throat. I didn’t think dragons could blush. I suppose it makes sense considering their human forms have all of the same physiological processes, just with a few additions of their own, like the ability to breathe fire. But there’s just something about seeing his cheeks pink and his lips twitch with a repressed, guilty smile that makes me itchy all the way down to my bones.

Vicious, killer beasts don’tblush. They just don’t.

This has to be part of his trick. He’s trying to lull me into a false sense of security. Why, I have no idea. But it’s the only explanation. Maybe he really was there when I was attacked. Maybe saving me was part of his plan so he could use me as a bargaining chip, a hostage. My muscles tighten and my hands curl into fists. My blood rushes in my ears as a lifetime of training prepares me for a fight my body is sure is coming, even if I’m still trying to work most of this out in my head.

“It was a gag gift I got as part of our family White Elephant exchange last year,” he explains, carefully removing the ceramic head and setting it aside. “Lucky for me, I have a sweet tooth, so a cookie jar was the perfect gift to end up with.”

He winks and my heart stumbles over a beat. Winking is just as uncomfortably disarming as his blushing was. Why does he have to seem so…human? He reaches into the cookie jar and pulls one out to offer to me. I stare at it in his hand for an impossibly long second, trying to process the fact that the scent is mouthwatering, heavy with cinnamon and sugar, and it’s shaped like the backside of a cat, complete with a little X where the butt should be.

“I promise, it’s not poisoned either.” He misreads my silence, waving the cookie temptingly under my nose.

My mouth waters and I grab it from him. He watches as I take a bite. It’s perfectly soft and so deliciously sweet I can’t keep myself from moaning out loud. It’s exactly like I always imagined.Betterthan I imagined. This isn’t the kind of food that will make me stronger or fuel me with energy for a battle. It’s food made simply to be enjoyed. The beautiful sinfulness of gluttony and indulgence makes the next bite all the sweeter, and I groan again. I chew it slowly then dart my tongue out to lick the cinnamon off my lips.

I open my eyes to find Lord staring at me, his mouth agape and his pupils so blown they’re nearly obscuring all the color of his irises. His skin is flushed again, deeper this time, and he’s breathing a little faster. Is he… turned on?

I drop my gaze lower to find the unmistakable strain of arousal between his legs. Electricity and heat ricochet through me, settling in my gut with a hungry, needy weight.

“What is this called?” I ask, holding up the cookie, desperate to distract myself from the lust that threatens to make me do somethingverystupid. It has nothing to do with the dragon. It’s perfectly natural that my body would behave strangely after I nearly died and spent a week practically comatose while I healed.

Lord frowns.

“A snickerdoodle?” He answers as if he’s unsure.

“Snickerdoodle,” I repeat, a small laugh bubbling in my chest. How delightfully silly that sounds. “It’s delicious.”

“You’ve never had one before?”

I shake my head and take another bite, aware this time of how my moans affect Lord but still not doing anything to stop myself from making another porn-worthy sound as I chew it.

“Our dad is very strict about our diets.”

“Your mom never broke the rules behind his back? Slipped you and your brothers treats every now and again?” There’s affection in his voice that spins my head around again.

“She died giving birth to me.” My throat tightens around the confession.

Sympathy fills his eyes, and he reaches towards me, stopping himself before he actually manages to touch me. A small shiver runs through me and goose bumps prickle over my skin. I don’t want a dragon to touch me.Of courseI don’t. But there’s a strange lurching feeling inside of me anyways, like I missed a step going down the stairs. Is a dragon’s skin hot when they’re in their human form? Is it soft or tough like their scales?

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” The sympathy in his voice sounds genuine.

I nod and stuff the rest of the cookie into my mouth in one bite.

“And now my family thinks I’m dead too. Worse, dead before I’ve even killed a dragon, so I’m also a disgrace in their eyes, lost to the afterlife, never to enter into it as the warrior I’m supposed to be.”

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