Page 18 of The Forbidden Dragon King
I steady the spear in my hand, lit by the starlight, which shafts through an opening in the roof.
I stare at the arched exit that leads to the ledge.
This is it.
One more step, and I’ll be leaving the kingdom of my birth for the first time and forever.
I take that step.
Only to stiffen in shock at the deep growl from the archway.
My guts churn with dread, as shadows flow like tararound the cave walls, before a large scarlet Shadow Wolf stalks into the cave, blocking the exit.
The wolf is like woven shadow and blood. His entire focus is on me.
I’m unable to look away. His pheromones are dangerously dominant. I’m drawn to him, as if pulled by a thread.
The Alpha’s woodsy pine and fir scent floods the cave.
“Bard,” I whisper.
I shake my head to clear it, stumbling away until my back hits the wall.
I’m intoxicated by Bard’s scent. Alone with him in the dark, it seems stronger than it ever has.
My Omega is clawing at me inside, begging for me to bare my neck in submission.
I raise my arms, as Bard stalks slowly toward me, never looking away. I don’t know if I’m warding him off or opening my arms in welcome.
My eyes are glassy. My mind is hazy.
If I die on Bard’s fangs tonight, then at least he’ll always remember me. It’ll be more than Hilda will get.
For a servant Omega, it should be an honor.
Then why are my eyes burning with tears?
I hoped…fuck it, I dreamed…that if anyone from the court would protect me during the Mate Hunt, then it would have been Bard.
The legend of the Golden Dragon is just a story, however, and there are no white knights.
Why would Bard be any different? Why am I special?
I open my mouth to say something, but find that my throat is too dry to get out more than, “Alpha…”
As if I have any right to claim him as mine.
I would have killed any other wolf who attacked me tonight but I can’t kill a royal. It’s treason. Plus, maybe Bard doesn’t feel anything for me, but I’ve yearned after him for years.
He feels like he’s my Alpha, and that makes him my weakness.
I want to survive. On the other hand, how can I face my ancestors in the moon if I steal the life of a shifter like Bard to hold onto my own life?
Defeated, my fingers become lax around the spear. It clatters to the ruby encrusted floor. The wolf’s ears pin back at the sound.
I glance frantically around the cave. My breathing speeds up.
I make a desperate dash, despite my mangled ankle, attempting to break free and make it to another archway on the far side, but Bard instantly leaps.
