Page 25 of The Forbidden Dragon King
A golden crown, which is a single dragon with its wings outstretched.
This is King Aurelius transformed out of shifter form.
Fuck a troll.
My eyes widen. My heart speeds up.
I silently drag a cushion over myself, before I glance down at what I’m wearing.
My eyes widen further.
I’ve been dressed in a warm leather dress with long sleeves and a high neck, although no shoes.
Huh, not a good sign.
Is the king scared that I’ll run away?
Am I a captive?
I glance down at the bottom of the nest and am relieved that my old dress has at least been added to it, cleaned and mended.
So, Aurelius is at least a thoughtful kidnapper. With my dress, it’ll be easier to escape.
A kidnapper is still an asshole, however, king or no king.
I study Aurelius again.
He’s hidden in shadows but somehow, appears to make his own light.
Aurelius’ hand rests on the silver crown, clutching it hard enough to slice open his palm. His blood drips onto the shrine.
“Brother,” he whispers, “by the end of tonight, I will have fulfilled part of my Blood Oath.”
I narrow my eyes.
Blood Oaths. They’re never good.
Yet when Aurelius raises his head, glancing to the side, deep in thought, I’m distracted from even his oath.
My throat dries further.
I thought Bard a man. But he was nothing.
A childnext to this dragon.
The dominance of the King’s pheromones are overwhelming.
Aurelius’ golden waves of hair tumble under his crown around his sharp cheekbones to his strong jaw. He glows like the sun.
Yet he’s as cold as adyingsun.
A crimson cape is draped around his broad, tanned shoulders.
“You’re awake,” Aurelius says without looking around.
His voice is smoky but emotionless.
I startle, falling back into my nest. “How did you do that?”
