Page 3 of Wicked Depths

Hearing my name from her lips sends a strange thrill of curiosity through me, though I bury it beneath my disdain. “And who are you?”

Her smile widens. “I am Vaela.”

So the sea witch who conjures dread in mortal hearts has a name after all. Vaela. The moment she speaks it, curiosity flutters within me, interwoven with caution. I only just learned of her existence, yet seeing her in the flesh, I sense the dark power that has made her a whispered legend.

“What are you doing in my forest?” I demand, stepping closer.

“Your forest?” she echoes, her tone mocking. “How quaint. I was brought here, dragon. Against my will, I might add.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why does the king want you?”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself,” she replies, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Though I doubt he’ll be in the mood to answer once he learns I’ve escaped.”

“Escaped?” I laugh coldly. “You’re in chains, siren.”

Her eyes flash. “And yet, you’re the one who walked into my trap.”

Before I can react, the air around us shifts. Water pools at her feet, dark and shimmering, and her tentacles erupt from the depths, lashing out toward me. I leap back, fire blazing to life inmy hands. But even as I prepare to strike, I can’t help but admire her audacity.

“Enough!” I roar, unleashing a wall of flame. It doesn’t harm her, but it forces her magic to recede. Her tentacles retreat, leaving only the chains that bind her.

She smirks, leaning back against the post behind her. “Mmm. Fiery. I like that.”

My claws twitch with the urge to silence her, but something holds me back. There’s a fire in her eyes that mirrors my own, a defiance that refuses to be snuffed out. She’s dangerous, yes. But she’s also… compelling.

“You’re coming with me,” I say, stepping forward, my voice cold as steel.

She tilts her head, shifting in her chains with a calculated sway that’s half mocking, half seductive. “Oh? And where might we be going?”

“To my castle,” I reply. “You’re my prisoner now.”

She laughs, the sound rich and derisive. “Careful, dragon queen. You might find it hard to let me go.”

Her words are laced with that dangerously alluring tone, but I see the spark in her eyes. She hurls herself toward me with surprising speed, tentacles flaring. Heat and cold magic collide in a violent, crackling clash—my Dragonfire snarling against the crushing pull of the tide. She nearly slips from my grip, but I twist free at the last moment, driving the hilt of my blade into her temple.

She staggers, eyes flickering. There’s a final, vicious glare of defiance before her legs buckle. I seize her chain, hauling her unconscious form upright. As I drag her from the tent, the forest around us seems to shudder, its magic pulsing in time with my own.

I’ve made my move. Now, it’s only a matter of time before our deadly game truly begins.

Chapter

Two

VAELA

Iwake to the scent of ash and magic, thick and cloying in the air. My wrists ache from the enchanted chains digging into my skin, their cold bite keeping my power at bay. The faint hum of magic embedded in the metal irritates me, like an itch I can’t quite scratch. My fingers flex against the bonds, but they don’t yield. Of course, they don’t. Humans are dull creatures, but their fear of what they do not understand has made them surprisingly skilled in black smithing.

I open my eyes slowly, the world sharpening into focus. The dim light in the chamber reveals high, vaulted ceilings carved from stone, glowing faintly with runes that pulse in time with the magic coursing through this place. A castle, then. Gothic and unwelcoming. It reeks of power and pride.

Fitting for a dragon.

The irony isn’t lost on me. One prison to another. One captor exchanged for a more dangerous one. Only this time, I’m not surrounded by fumbling humans with dreams of conquest. No, this time, my captor is something far more formidable. The Dragon Queen.Nyxara. The name rolls through my mind like a whispered curse.

“You’re awake,” a voice drawls, smooth and cold as the chains holding me.

I tilt my head toward the doorway, and there she stands—Nyxara. Obsidian horns sweep upward from her brow, forming a stark, regal crown that proclaims her more than human. Moonlight from a high window gleams against her emerald eyes, revealing a gaze as sharp and unyielding as the blade at her hip. Her cloak, a deep ebony hue, shifts around her like living smoke, accentuating her tall, commanding figure. Every sinew in her lithe frame seems primed with restrained violence, as though she could strike at any moment.

I loathe her immediately.

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