Page 51 of Brutal Dragon King

Is it concern?

Or am I just riding the adrenaline of my panic that has me seeing something that shouldn’t be there?

With bold, broad shoulders, Haidën marches toward me, exasperation written all over his face. I see him as my hero, my savior, but he must see me as the human slave who escaped the palace, and he’s about to punish me.

“We have to get out of here,” he says as he holds my gaze, eyes glossed over with moisture. He reaches down and swiftly scoops me up into his arms. A startled gasp escapes me before I quietly press my lips into a firm line, saying nothing because I don’t have the courage, and I have no idea what he’s about to do to me.

He shifts into dragon form then, the transformation slower than what I remembered the first time he grabbed me and lifted me into the air as a dragon; this time, it feels like time has slowed down, and I’m able to witness the shift as his bodyexpands against mine, his arms distending around me into that of a golden dragon. His face morphs into a sharp, scaly snout, bleating a huff through elongated nostrils as he stares into my eyes with the slitted pits of gold and white. My breath catches again, this time because I’m mesmerized by his dragon eyes that seem to read my soul.

He sends us into the air with a powerful flap of his wings before using them to shield us from the trees as we ascend. His wings hug his dragon body and my human one while his slitted eyes remain stuck on me.

The wind that billows through my hair when he parts his wings comes as a breath of fresh air, opening up the view of the entire kingdom from up here. I gasp in awe of the beauty of the realm, and how the many stars light up the greenery and blooms from the sky. Magnified by a gorgeous, dark blue sky, the view is mesmerizing, and I only turn my eyes away when I realize how warm the dragon’s are around me.

The first time he picked me up off my feet and flew me to the hockey arena, all I felt was the coldness of his scales and the hostility of his actions. Now, I feel the warmth radiating off him and feel his dragon heart beating against my chest while he keeps me pressed to his solid armor of reptilian skin.

Despite the beauty of the flight and everything around us, I find myself entranced by the dragon’s eyes of gold and white, seeing the way the crystal gems on his shoulders light up every time he flaps his wings. He’s a stunning, magnificent beast, and as his heart beats, the little heart growing inside me beats in tandem.

My hand slides up the tough outer shell of his chest, suddenly feeling connected to him. It's strange and powerful atthe same time, and it probably has to do with the baby growing inside me.

It senses the closeness of its father, which is why I rest my palm on the left side of his chest, gazing deeply into his eyes. Tonight, he saved his child, not me. But credit must be given, even if I mean nothing, to the dragon king.

It's not that I want to mean anything to him. He's the reason my parents were killed, and I didn't want any of this. I didn’t want to be his slave or be pregnant with his baby.

Now, I'm forced to have these warm feelings toward him, seeing him beyond the mantle of the cruel dragon king. Instead, I see him as a valiant knight with the beauty of a marvelous, insanely powerful creature. My moment of being dazed is interrupted by the rapid rushing sound of gushing water, and I tear my eyes from the dragon to see that we're hovering above a waterfall.

Sudden panic skitters down my throat.

Is he going to throw me down from up here so I can fall to my death?

I barely have time to calculate an escape when the dragon king glides down to the rocky surface and gently sets me on my feet, the talons of his dragon resting on my shoulders to steady me before he shifts back into human form, human hands remaining on my shoulders.

“Althea!” he sighs, relief evident in his voice when he leans down and stares into my eyes with concern.

Do I imagine his worry?

It's not like he knows that I'm pregnant yet.

So when he pulls back, and his hands go all over me, a shriek of surprise escapes me.

“What are you—” I begin, cut off when he spins me over with his hands on my hips, then crouches behind me.

He's feeling me all over, and I'm not sure what's going on. Is he checking to make sure that I don't have another dagger hidden in my now-torn stockings?

“Are you alright?” he asks in a panicked, deeply concerned voice that shocks me. “Did you get hurt? Did the Wyrm vines hurt you, Althea? Dammit, answer me!”

His exasperated huff is followed by him spinning me back to face him, dark eyes glowering with so much emotion that I've never seen from the ruthless, cold-hearted dragon king before.

I thought he brought me up here to torture me, or to kill me for my crimes and my attempt on his life. Instead, he sees the wound on my shoulder when his palm meets the blood from his gentle stroking of my arms.

He sucks in a breath, staring down at the wound.

“I—I'm fine,” I whisper timidly, watching the way he dotingly runs a finger below the wound. A twig must have cut through my shoulder when I fell over the tree stump, and there's only a mild ache that's left from the gash.

“No. You're. Not…” Haidën grates angrily now, grabbing the sleeve of the robe and ripping off a piece. As he tends to tear it into a long strip, he stares into my eyes with a range of different emotions flashing through them.

Haidën grabs the wrist of my good arm and tugs me forward abruptly, lifting my wounded arm to begin tying the makeshift string below the wound.

“You're hurt, Althea,” he declares, nostrils flaring.

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