Page 22 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

“You do know ordering me to be with you isn’t going to work, don’t you?” I trot to keep up with his strides as we make our way down a bright, clean curved corridor.

Darax glances briefly at me before his jaw sets once again.

I don’t think he did.

KERRA

Rosalie runs at me the second I step into the comfortable round room. It has a depression in the floor filled with cushions where the rest are sitting. I fling my arms around her neck and give her the biggest hug, still hardly able to believe we found each other.

“I’m so pleased you’re okay,” she says into my ear.

“And I’m pleased you’re okay more.”

Rosalie laughs. “Being around these reptile guys hasn’t changed you.”

I look over my shoulder. Darax stands in the doorway, arms folded, looking like a cross between a bouncer and a dinosaur.

“And he really does change into…one of those dragons?” she asks, her voice lowered.

“Apparently so.” I sigh. “Is Lydia okay?”

“I’m here,” a quiet voice calls out from the cushions below.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she replies.

Her ragged clothing has been replaced with a massive set of white overalls, the sleeves and legs rolled up multiple times. Her hair is clean, and she has a spark to her eyes where she didn’t before.

I pull Rosalie down into the cushions.

“I’m Kerra,” I say to the others.

“We know,” Maggie says. “What the fuck is going on, Kerra?”

“Generally, metaphorically, or locally?” I bristle a little at the tone of her voice.

She glares at me briefly before she cracks a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m often told I’m too direct. I can’t help it. I know this isn’t your fault.”

“Let me guess. You were a lawyer too?”

Maggie’s smile gets wider. “You?” she says. “We’re a breed apart, aren’t we?”

“Kerra likes to think so.” Rosalie pokes me in my side.

“We’re all just alien food now,” Scarlett says with a glance at Darax who still hasn’t moved and is continuing to smoke from one nostril.

“They don’t want to eat us,” I say.

“Told you,” Rosalie interjects, nodding at the others. “We’re too bony, like fish.”

“I am not like a fish,” Scarlett replies.

“I see you’ve been making friends while we’ve been apart.” I poke Rosalie back. “You and your fish metaphors.”

Rosalie gasps at both being poked and in mock horror while Maggie chuckles.

“What do they want?” Lydia flops next to us like a seal in her huge outfit.

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