Page 17 of Cruelly Fated
Wrong. The dragon king shows no mercy. You cross him, you bleed.
Still, a part of me had clung to the hope that I mattered more to him than a discarded pawn in his power games. That maybe I wasn’t so easy to cast aside. But I guess betrayal runs thicker than blood in the Voltaire clan.
But why now, after all this time?
Maybe he waited because of Mother—because her mind shattered the day I was arrested, and he didn’t want to finish the job. Or perhaps the bastard just enjoyed watching me sweat in the shadows, wondering when the axe would fall.
Didn’t matter now.
The last guard exiting turned around and with a sneer pressed the Taser into the base of my back. The voltage skittered across my ribcage and shocked my heart. I roared and seized.
Some time later, I woke in a puddle of blood and drool, cheek glued to freezing steel. My vision swam. My limbs trembled from exhaustion. Crawling to the bare cot in the corner felt like dragging my body through broken glass.
They had gotten a few solid hits in this time. Deep cuts—ribs, thigh, just under my collarbone. All shallow enough to keep me breathing. Deep enough to make me wish I wasn’t.
And still…no fucking medical attention.
Shifters don’t get it here.
Not unless they want you to survive.
But I could’ve handled the pain. I would’ve healed by now—if not for the damn ankle bracelet. Cold iron, laced with enchantments that hummed with a white noise. It smothered the dragon in me, muffled my strength, choked off my natural healing like a noose around the neck of a beast.
Steam hissed from my pores. I struggled to contain it. The dragon stirred—twisting, snarling beneath my skin. My nostrils flared. My jaw clenched. I growl-huffed and slammed the back of my head against the cell wall, forcing the beast to back down. Because if it didn’t, the guards would come. With a suppressant shot meant for sedating monsters.
And they’d love to jab me with it. They called it protocol, but really, it was personal.
No fucking way.
I ground my teeth and yanked the leash tighter.
Focus.
Think of her.
That girl with starlight in her eyes and peaches on her skin. Her soft voice. Her trembling fingers when she pressed her illusion into me like a whispered kiss. The way her mind wrapped around mine, reckless and sweet. How she didn’t even know what she was doing—and still brought my dragon to his damn knees.
I pictured her again—her mouth parted, breath catching like she wanted to be bad but didn’t know how yet. I’d teach her. The dragon rumbled, low and pleased, curling up like a beast resting on ancient gold.
She’s different.
She didn’t beg. She didn’t flinch.She offered. With every glance, every word, every delicious flicker of hesitation, she gave more than any other woman ever dared.
And fuck me, I wanted her to do it again.
I closed my eyes and imagined her straddling my lap, her maddening scent flooding my senses. Heat pooled low. I readjusted with a hiss.
The dragon stirred again, this time not in rage but in need.
“Make her ours,” it hissed.
The wounds throbbed as the healing process began. The shifter-suppressing bracelet slowed my recovery, magnifying the discomfort and draining me energetically. I convulsed. My skin pressurized and began knitting itself. Gritting my teeth, I exhaled with force.
“Not yet,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “But soon.”
Five days until I saw her again…
Nine
