Page 21 of Brutal Dragon King

He grunts through dragon nostrils, before padding across the field to a hanger set out with hockey sticks in the center.

Long talons close around a white stick, and King Haidën lifts it over his head. As if drawing the sunlight into his weapon of choice, lightning bolts of iridescent gold flash across the stick and through his arms while thunder roars magically through the air.

The scene is rather dramatic, and I would have thought it was absurd if it wasn't for being curious about the game which isn't being played in their human forms. Even the ball he lifts is the size of a human head, and when it crackles with thunderbolts of life, it seems to signal the start of the game.

But instead of throwing the ball onto the field, the king tosses it high into the air, reaching for the clouds before flapping his wings with a majestic force that whisks him into the air to chase for the ball.

My breath is snatched when I witness the power played out before my eyes, the rest of the king's men following the ball into the air by flapping their wings and giving chase.

The two teams are differentiated by a crystal on each of their left shoulders, blazing in either the color gold to match the king's gem or blue to signify the other team. King Haidën's teammate, a gold-bearing dragon, sprints through the air and then pivots himself higher by kicking a webbed foot on the king's outstretched dragon arm.

He flies faster, spearing forward like an arrow with wings latched on his sides to make him aerodynamic. King Haidën fliesin the opposite direction, but it’s a calculated move when the other dragon thwacks the ball toward the king.

My jaw drops when I witness the king shift midair, his human form catapulted through the legs of an opposing dragon while he wields the hockey stick that's as large as his human body.

When King Haidën lances through, he comes out through the other side and whacks the ball in the direction of the net on the field that's turned up toward the sky. I can't take my eyes off him, captivated by the power and finesse of his movements, and moved by the dynamic between the king and his men, who appear to be his closest ally.

They work in tandem, the dragon catching the king's human arm and spinning him to face the field. When he's high enough, the king shifts back into dragon form, and together with his teammate, they plummet toward the field just in time for the other dragon to score a goal in the net.

Cheers and celebration come in the form of the drumbeat of the dragons’ wings as they fly high up, and the frenzy of their roars as the winning team—the king's team—blows fire in a joined circle. King Haidën wails as if he's speaking to his team, who bow their dragon heads in unison before preparing for another round.

That was exhilarating to watch, the excitement on the field escalating just as much as my heart raced. I've never seen anything like it before, and the thrill soon makes me forget about the terror of being flown out by the dragon king.

What the game sheds light on is an undeniable fact—the king is as arrogant on the playing field as he is when he rules his kingdom. Between him and his teammates, he stands out as the most powerful among them.

As terrifying as it is, it's also alluring. I haven't stopped clamping my thighs shut, or gripping the edge of the bench. Now, my fingers tingle with not just the loss of blood, but from a sudden urge to give myself up to the dragon king.

It's faint, but it's present, and with each point the dragon king scores for his team, with the assistance of his most loyal teammates, I can't help but see how dominant he is in his natural state of being. He's powerful and in control—the latter something I hadn't tasted since it felt like my life wasn't my own since I was born in The Emberlands.

Being human meant that my life was never mine. My human life belonged to the dragon shifters since I took my first breath. No matter what came my way, the challenges, the trials and tribulations, I had no control over my life.

Not at all like the control King Haidën exercises in the hockey arena, accumulating points for his team effortlessly. His graceful flutters, perfectly calculated flights, and powerful knocks to the ball are what drive my sudden desire.

Absentmindedly, I lick my lips as I watch him score the last point before the game ends with a signaling bleating cry from the dragon shifter who acts as a referee on the field. Like a whistle, it prompts both teams to the ground, and they stand on either side of the field. With one pointed claw, the referee calls the winner as the king's side.

More celebrations erupt with human cheers, this time when the dragon shifters transform on the ground and take on their human forms. All are shirtless, knocking chests together and screaming as they celebrate their victory.

I can hardly contain my arousal, my eyes fixed on one particular dragon shifter whose sculpted chest glistens with the sweat he built up with the game. Like a gleaming gold ornament,my hands finally release the steel bench and tingle now with the arousal that stems from between my thighs.

I gulp hard when the king's eyes meet mine, flashing with onyx darkness as his lips press into a firm, unamused line. As if he knows what I'm feeling. As if he suspects that my mind has turned into a vortex of sinful thoughts that I'd never dream of voicing.

It would be nightmarish to speak of wanting to throw myself at the ruthless dragon king when I am perfectly aware of what he's capable of.

Whatever game he's playing by keeping me in the palace in the bedroom beside him is probably better than the one I'm trying to play by exacting my revenge on him. He's always going to be one step ahead, and it's evident in the way his fiery, dark, piercing eyes glare at me now.

He's boastful, as if the game I watched was meant to show me just how conniving and powerful he is.

King Haidën doesn't stop glaring at me, even when he throws his arm over the soldier who'd been his closest ally in the game. He appears to be the closest to the king, and I make a mental note of it in case it might help when the time presents itself to use the guard to my advantage in my scheme.

Returning to my previous plan, I'm jolted out of my daze and realize just how ridiculous my bodily reaction to the king was. I could never throw myself willingly into his arms.

Not without a fight. That was the plan from the moment I realized he wouldn't kill me if I fought back.

I will fight. I have to.

I hate the dragon king!

As that hatred burns through me, scorching my lungs and flaring my nostrils, a startled squeak escapes my lips when, out of nowhere, two pairs of large, strong hands grip me from behind.

---