Page 31 of Dragons' Bride
I would, but Tavias is actually entertaining Corvus’s new notion of trying to muzzle the dragon and anchor him to the deck. That very notion makes my stomach roil. I brush the dragon’s nose. “Can you let me pull the spikes out?” I murmur. “I’ll be careful, but it will hurt. And you can’t bite me while I do it. Or, um, thrash around and destroy the ship. You can’t do that either.”
The dragon huffs. I have no idea if that’s a yes or a no.
My chest tightens. “Please. They’ll tie you down otherwise.” I stroke him again. “Blink twice if you promise not to kill me for pulling the spikes out.”
Silver eyes stare into mine, then blink. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Very funny,” I tell him, but move toward the first spike anyway.
From the corner of my vision, I catch Tavias start toward me with murderous intent. Lightning dances over his skin and scales.
The dragon notices Tavias as well. His head swings toward the prince briefly and then his tail flicks once – sending Tavias flying back from us and into a mast. Someone curses.
“I don’t think he wants any of you coming near just now,” I call helpfully.
The dragon gives another huff, then goes rigid as I close my hand around the first of the curved spikes. The hard onyx shell is ice cold and sends waves of vileness roaring through me at once. Nausea claws my throat. “Stars,” I whisper and take a deep breath, bracing myself for what comes next. “Here we go.”
I pull the spike.
The dragon’s muscles tense, a bone shaking roar of agony escaping his maw. Yet I feel no fear. Not from him.
I also can’t get the damn thing out. Gathering my strength, I pull again. I can feel the vibration of the raw power coiled within the dragon, the destruction held at bay by his will alone.
Yet the venomous spike stays where it is.
“Let me through,” a voice I distantly recognize as the healer’s orders. There is a shuffle of feet and then Corvus appears at the edge of the gathering crowd. For a moment I fear he is going to come too close, but fortunately he crouches at a distance instead. “The spike is curved and serrated. You are strong enough to pull it out, but you must pull with the curve. And you cannot let up on the pressure.”
The confidence in the male’s voice helps me pull my fraying nerves together. The whole crew seems to hold a collective breath as I once again wrap my hands around the spike. I meet the dragon’s pain filled eyes. He blinks. Once. Twice.
Regripping the foul spike, I try again, bracing my knee against the dragon’s neck to get the leverage I need. The dragon’s breaths come in ragged gasps, his jaw clenched tightly as the spike finally surrenders. With one final tug, the spike comes free, blood welling up from the wound.
The dragon shudders, a low growl rumbling in his throat. Yet, he doesn't lash out. Instead, his eyes hold mine, the silver in them shimmering with unshed tears. I realize my own cheeks are wet. “You are the bravest dragon in all of Lunos,” I tell him, running my hand over his scales before moving on to the other spikes, my hands now steady with determination.
The rest of the ship fades into irrelevance as I work, Captain Dane’s quiet orders to man the sails and steer the ship are drowned out by my pounding heart and the dragon’s labored breaths. My focus is entirely on him, just as Quinton’s had been on me when he brought me down from the mast. Before everything changed between us. I swear I can feel his pulse echo inside my body, his trust as tangible as anything I’ve ever held onto.
The last spike comes free with a wet plop, and I let out a shaky breath. “It’s over,” I promise. “That was the last one.”
The dragon’s head lowers to the deck, his breathing evening out as the tension in his body eases. I press my forehead against his neck, relief flooding my blood. Though the puncture wounds still bleed, his scales already feel warmer. Healthier.
It’s minutes before I can collect myself enough to step back from the dragon, who is already starting to shimmer. Once I’m clear, the air around him vibrates with energy, a blinding light flashing around him like a cocoon. I shield my eyes against the brightness. When I lower my forearm a moment later, Quinton’s dragon form has dissolved, the scaled body now replaced with the familiar fae male laying on the deck.
Quinton is in the same clothes he’d had on when he lept into the sea, the material torn to show bloody wounds beneath. His left leg is clearly broken and his blond hair falls in wet locks over his pale face. I don’t know how he is able to move, but he does, pulling himself up onto his forearms and flipping over into a sitting position before Corvus rushes over to put a stop to the moving about.
As Covus inspects Quinton’s broken leg, the prince presses his hand into the planking and surveys the deck. His eyes touch mine and keep going without so much as a pause, the warmth and trust we'd shared moments earlier evaporating to cold distance.
A bitter slap of hurt hits my soul.
Quinton’s attention stops on Tavias. “Are we clear of the rift?” he asks. His voice is hoarse and the words come in pants. I long to go to him, but Hauck comes up behind me, pulling me against him.
“We are,” Tavias confirms.
“The ship?” Quinton asks.
“Damaged but seaworthy. You –”
“I remember,” Quinton says, cutting Tavias off. “Most of it, anyway.” He draws in a deep breath, clearly fighting off pain. Fighting to stay conscious as Corvus examines him.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
