Page 8 of A Kiss From a Dragon Lord

“Your Anwyn—”

“Don’t!” I roar. “Don’t you ever say her name, mortal. Don’t you ever think about her again.”

“I won’t—I swear it!” he vows. I feel my grip lessen as he sucks down more air. His promise should cool some of my anger, but it doesn’t. If anything, I feel angrier. I hear his crude words about my precious Anwyn float back to me. He was going to marry her and breed her, clearly without her consent.

The more I stare at this pathetic excuse for a man, the more my beast roars at me to take action. To stop this threat against Anwyn now. And permanently. This human is a pig.

Everyone knows the best type of pig is a roasted one.

“I don’t think I’m going to give you the chance to.”

Without warning, I breathe in, allowing the fire in my stomach to rage and roar. With one mighty exhale, my flames shoot forward, warming the scales on my nose. Mr. Wicksome screams as his body is charred. The hands he thought to touch my Anwyn with, the mouth he thought to kiss her with are reduced to ash in a matter of moments. His smoking corpse lies at my feet.

I was wrong. My humanity is still lost when it comes to Anwyn. The only difference is I want to be that creature. The one that sends fears into the hearts of all who behold it so that she may stay safe in my company.

I have no remorse as I find a discarded satchel and stuff it full of wine, meats, and cheeses. As I load the still-warm dinner into the bag and cast one last look at the man who I killed for it.

I am happy to have eradicated this threat to my precious one. Bending at my knees, I fan my wings and take to the sky. It’s time to return to her, my prize. With my supplies in hand, it’s now time for me to show her I’m the only one who can keep her safe and truly provide for her.

Now, I must show her why she should stay with me forever.

5

ANWYN

The thunder of large wings echoing through the cave has me looking up.

With a frustrated sigh, I throw the golden coin I was using to unscrew the shackles from the floor. I’ve been trying to free myself for the better part of an hour but was unsuccessful. Now my jailer has returned, and my chance of escaping just became nonexistent. Sitting with my back against the stalagmite, I hear his wings getting closer.

The cool stone sinks into my skin, damp with sweat from my escape attempt.

Foolish. Instead of wasting time on my restraints, I should’ve tried to locate some sort of weapon. Then waited for him to unlock me and, no doubt, feast on my flesh and then take that opportunity to attack. I may not have killed him, but at least wounded him enough to flee. Now through narrowed eyes, I watch his massive form lower to the ground with apprehension.

His glowing gaze locks on me, his leather pants dripping water onto the stone floor. From around his massive chest, he loops a worn leather satchel over his head and sets it down gently in front of the pallet by the fire. The old bag looks like it’s about to burst with whatever is contained inside. My stomach growls as he takes out the contents.

The bag rattles as he makes a place setting of a silver plate and matching goblet. Next, he brings forth a still steaming roasted chicken, followed by a bowl of potatoes and green beans. There is an assortment of bread rolls, cheese, and ten different bottles of wine. My mouth is surely watering by the time he steps back.

His yellow eyes return to me as if seeking my approval. My stomach clenches, and for the moment, I don’t care what his motives are for this food. I would be a fool to refuse a hearty meal like this one. At the very least, it will give me enough strength should the opportunity to escape arise.

The dragon is still looking at me expectantly, and I raise my shackled wrist, letting the metal click together. He moves quickly, using a dark claw to unlock the clasp. I rub my wrists and watch remorse swim in his eyes. He’s the one who chained me up so I wouldn’t rob him. Of course, that’s exactly what I intend to do.

Silently, I follow him to the pallet on the floor. He watches me again, his massive chest rising and falling as I sink to the floor, careful to avoid his tail that lies at my feet. I pick up the fork left out for me and take a bite of the potatoes. Their rich, creamy texture melts on my tongue. I have to swallow down a moan as I go for another bite.

“How is the food?” the dragon asks, his massive wings folding into his back.

I toss my hair over my shoulder and shrug.

“The potatoes are cold.”

His head snaps back, and I think I’ve angered him. I don’t know what possessed me to say it. Perhaps it is my frustration with the situation. If he wanted a nice dinner companion, the first step would be not kidnapping and chaining them to his floor.

His massive shoulders sag, and he snatches my plate from me.

Oh great, now I’ve done it. I watch as he walks over to the roaring fire, his clawed feet clicking along the stone. The fire has burned down, but he quickly adds more logs until it is roaring once more. My eyes begin to water, knowing I’m about to watch him burn the food he brought me. Mouthing off to a dragon was going to have consequences, and now I’m going to spend what could be my last night in this world starving.

I should’ve just eaten the cold potatoes.

The dragon spends a few minutes over by the fire. With each one that passes, I grow more and more curious when I don’t hear the sizzle of the food being dumped out on them. After another moment, he returns the plate of food steaming in his hands. He sets it down in front of me.

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