Page 26 of Brutal Dragon King

“Your Majesty…” The stripper addresses me with a curt bow.

“Take a seat,” I instructed her, thankful for the lack of resistance I've become oddly accustomed to with the human.

It's not that it's acceptable, but every time I see the human, I know what to expect.

“Yes, Your Majesty…” the vampire agrees willingly as she takes a seat. I pass her a drink, and she takes it with one hand, while the other reaches for my face. Long, manicured fingertips attempt to stroke my jaw, but as soon as she makes contact, I hastily draw back.

Something is unsettling about the stripper's touch. Even with the ambiance of the red light and soft jazz filtering from the speakers, her presence is unnerving, and it doesn’t feel as welcoming as it usually is to feel a female’s touch.

I’m not opposed to the female touch,

“What’s your name?” I ask the stripper, trying to engage in a conversation to lighten the mood.

It’s only my mood that seems to be grim, while the stripper hums seductively as she sips on her drink.

“The name’s Valerie, Your Majesty,” she replies smoothly, attempting to touch me again.

When I recoil with a gloomy grunt, she retracts her hand, finally getting the message that I don’t wish to be touched. Her touch isn’t wanted. It’s not the touch I crave, not those warm, delicate, human fingers that I felt on me when I kissed Althea.

“Fuck…” I grunt under my breath, feeling the need for more alcohol if I’m going to go through with this charade with my brother’s stripper. It’s not like I care about her name, and asking her feels unlawful of me when I neglected to ask the human her name myself.

It’s not as if she allowed me to get that far. Before, I wouldn’t have cared what her name was, using her only as a breeding vessel for my heir. That was before I tasted her lips.

I wish I didn’t go that far. I wish that my mother didn’t trust her oracle, which spoke of her sons bearing heirs to strengthen their kingdoms, forcing us to partake in the reapings for human child-bearers.

I wish I hadn’t met Althea at all. I wish I didn’t kiss her.

Grabbing the bottle by the neck, I chug down its contents without bothering to pour out a glass. But no matter how much alcohol I consume, I cannot get that kiss out of my head, or get the taste of Althea’s sweet essence off my tongue. The kiss is what consumes my being, consumes me whole, and leaves no space for anything else in my life.

While the stripper—Valencia, or whatever her name is—oozes seduction in her voice as she speaks of the many erotic things she plans on doing to fulfill my carnal desires, all I can think about is that kiss I shared with Althea. The hot, passionate kiss in which I devoured her lips leaves no space for anything else in my life, and it frightens me.

I will be a lunatic until I have her, until I’ve buried my cock deep within her walls and owned her as mine. My slave. My human.

Mine.

“Get me another bottle,” I order the stripper, cutting into her jabbering. She readily complies with my order as she saunters off behind the counter to bring me another drink.

I don’t even wait for her to set the bottle down before snatching it from her hand and popping the lid off. Gulping down the contents and feeling the satisfaction burn down my throat, I know it won’t be long before the effects of the alcohol die, and I’m left feeling sober again.

It comes with the territory of being a dragon. My naturally hot blood won’t allow for something as weak as alcohol to keep me inebriated for too long. Soon, my quick metabolism will burn the liquor out, and the swirls in my vision will clear up, leaving me to face the truth that I cannot get the human child-bearer out of my mind.

It’s not my fault that her beauty is out of this world, unlike anything I’ve seen before. I know beauty when I see it, just like the stripper who leans over the bar counter, flashing the mounds of her breasts in my face.

All it would take is one word to have the stripper kneel in front of me, doing anything I ask her to do.

But I don’t want that.

She’s not the female I want, not the female my dragon craves, as if that kiss proved to be my greatest source of sustenance.

I need to get to my study at the palace back in The Spine. I have a stash of dragonclaw—a rare herb that Mother grows in The Astral Platuea that has lethal effects in the right doses, and intoxicating, psychedelic effects with just the correct amount. It’s the only way my inner dragon will be soothed, so it won’t turn insane before tomorrow’s ritual ceremony.

I lift my head to the stripper, my vision hazy with the effects of the liquor. She appears as a blotch of red hair and teeth, and my gut churns with the sight of her. I decide to get rid of her while my speech hasn’t been slurred yet, and that way I can make a quiet exit.

“Go tell your king that I had to leave,” I order her. “Tell him there was an emergency in The Spine.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she bows, disappointment flickering in her green eyes that appear like the eyes of a snake. I turn my face away, unable to stand the sight of her when her eyes aren’t the warm depths of gold I long to lose myself in.

As soon as she’s gone from behind the bar, I rise to my feet, slightly tipsy from the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed. I don’t wish to wait it out and become sober lest I decide to stick around and taste another’s lips that won’t be my human’s. What’s the point of trying to confirm what I already know?

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