Page 23 of Brutal Dragon King

“Everyone keeps reminding me of that!” I bite back bitterly, narrowing my eyes as my chin lifts with a defiant air. “Just because you're powerful, doesn't mean you get to decide whose life has value and whose doesn't!”

A deep, guttural growl resounds in the air, and I feel the vibrations against my finger curled against his chest. The king is vexed, his nostrils flaring with a grunt, and he suddenly grabs my wrist, fingers forming a scorching vice-grip that keeps me frozen in place.

Frozen because the slightest physical touch is my undoing. I open my mouth to throw something his way again since my verbal retaliation is all I have to fight against the dragon king. It's the only way I can mask my body's seemingly natural response to him, and hide what I really feel between my thighs.

“I will never—” I begin, but the dragon king leans in, his hot breath fanning my face and compelling me to shut my mouth and press my lips into a firm line.

“You will never what? Bow down to your king?” His eyes marrow into blade-like slits that slice through my being.

All I can manage is a squirmish hum as I fight my baser urges and try to hang on to the hatred I feel for the king. That hatred is hanging by a fine thread now that I can’t see beyond his physical presence and the way he exudes dominance in his mere being.

There is no logical reason for his stature, except that he’s an immortal dragon shifter and the most powerful preternatural creature that walks the land. Ever since I was born, it was a known fact that the dragon shifters were the rulers of our lands for centuries before my time. I never understood it before, because I’d received the short end of the stick as a human.

Yet, I can see it now, almost as if his majestic aura materializes around him, shrouding him in brilliant gold light that isn’t soft and gentle, but rather imposing and unforgiving.

When his grip tightens around my wrist, I think he's about to shift in the small confines of the changing room, rip through his towel into dragon form, and fly me out through the ceiling in another show of power. But when he yanks me forward, closing the little distance between us, he does the unthinkable.

It’s worse than anything he’s done so far to exercise his power over me.

Chapter 8 - Haidën

The human—Althea—is playing with fire. Literal fire, that burns in my chest and rises through my lungs, escaping my nostrils in the hottest breath I’ve ever exhaled in human form.

I’ve been angry before, many times in my three hundred years alive as an immortal dragon shifter, but I’ve never beenthisangry. Or frustrated. Or completely vexed that I have no idea what to do with this human girl.

I could quickly put an end to her life and be rid of the troubles she brings me every time she chooses to defy me and refuses to bow. No matter how many times I remind her that I am her king, she doesn’t seem to care.

She’s the only human who dares to challenge me, who dares to stand up against me and push buttons that no one has ever come close to.

Why can’t I just snap her head off her neck? Or throw her from the highest point in the sky and watch as her mortal body splatters on the ground? That way, she’ll never disobey again…

But somehow, I can’t imagine life without her worthless existence. If I’m being completely honest, there’s a certain thrill to her defiance every time she opens her mouth.

Or every time she glares at me.

Or every time she simply breathes in my presence.

I cannot seem to get the picture of her in the palace gardens out of my head. Apart from her ethereal beauty, there was an innocence about her that soothed my being, even when I wouldn’t allow it.

Then, I saw her watching me play air hockey through my dragon eyes and witnessed her awe as she marveled at the sport.

Or, perhaps, she marveled at me.

It’s not like I was playing for her sake. Neither am I gripping her wrist so tightly for her sake.

I’m a greedy bastard, and it’s something I can admit. Everything I’ve done for this kingdom, every decision I’ve made, has been solely for my benefit, and everyone around me naturally benefits from my contentment.

This here—this close proximity and clutching her wrist in a vice-grip against my chest—this is purely for my pleasure. The pleasure of watching her squirm, and seeing that full, plump bottom lip tremble with fear, knowing that I can do anything I want with her, and she can’t do a damned thing about it, that’s what breathes new life into me.

It’s greed that has me closing the little distance between us by taking a firm, deliberate step forward. Denying myself of my own cravings has only been detrimental to my mental health, and I’ve never been one to deny myself the fulfillment that keeps me thriving.

On the other hand, Althea Waters is a craving that should be considered illegal in my books. But to hell with the books now! This nonsense needs to end, and there’s only one way to make that happen.

The verbal spat between us will lead to no good; I can see that. Without giving it a second thought, I release her wrist, and she thinks she’s in the clear, a relieved sigh escaping her lips and inadvertently doing what I needed her to do when her lips parted involuntarily.

The faint breath that leaves her parted lips is the essential scent that beckons my senses like a mating cry as I grab the back of her neck and harshly pull her closer to me, crushing my lipsto hers. Once her lips are mine, I fervently devour the essence of her sweet, human taste.

I growl on her lips, feeling her surrender as she opens her mouth even further to allow me access into the cavity of her mouth. I would have taken those liberties whether she gave it or not, but her surrender only entices my actions when I push her shoulders and send her against the locker. It clatters with metal clicks, her body softening to mold against mine as she moans on the kiss, and I prod my tongue between her lips.

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