Page 9 of Claimed By the Sinful Dragon
“Do you get many?” She looked up at me through her lashes in that timid way again. “Guests?”
“No. You’ll keep the rooms ready, regardless. Bedding changed weekly, floors mopped, rugs cleaned.”
“All of the rooms?” she asked. “Including yours?”
“No.” The word rushed out and I forced myself to take a breath. “I don’t need your scent filling up every damn inch of my personal space.”
“Don’t want me in your bedroom,” she chirped. “Got it.”
“Trust me,” I growled. “If I want you in my room, you’ll be there. And it won’t be for cleaning.”
A flush ran across her cheeks and she ducked her head. It was fucking adorable and if she kept staring at me, my pants were going to become a problem.
I opened my mouth to change the subject when my cell rang. Saved by the fucking bell. The shifter’s eyes went comically wide as I pulled it out, and I arched a brow at her. She flushed even redder, this time with embarrassment.
“Sorry. I’ve just never seen someone with an actual cell phone before.”
I wasn’t surprised. Humans and shifters had been allowed access to only limited technology after the fall of their society—technology being the one thing that made them dangerous. I was less strict than most, seeing as I had no interest in ruling the wolf pack on my lands, but they were still aware of the laws. Communicating outside of their borders was forbidden. On pain of death.
I answered the call. “I’m busy. I’ll call you later.”
And then I hung up again. The shifter girl gawked. Gaheris would probably be pissed as hell that I’d hung up on him without so much as an explanation, but I didn’t owe him one, and I’d deal with him later. I was busy.
Busy. Right.
“Stairs are this way,” I snapped at the girl. “Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
Because my dragon was right. If Gaheris was reaching out to me—something that didn’t happen more than every decade or two—then showing the new maid around was no excuse to dodge the call. Especially if there was any truth to the rumors about the rebels in the east.
Sometimes, I couldn’t help but feel life had been a lot easier before some bright spark decided to take over the fucking world.
Chapter 7
Kaylee
Forever was along time. Or it would be, if I were planning on sticking around that long. But, as it would happen, I had better things to do with my life. Like live it. Preferably somewhere far, far from here. Far from any shifter would be a nice bonus.
Rook showed me to my room—at least it wasn't the cell in the basement I supposed, and I wouldn't have been entirely surprised if it was—and then left me to get ‘acclimated.’ I may or may not have made some witty repartee about getting acclimated to captivity...but not until after he left and shut the door behind him.
The room itself was bigger than the one that I had back in the packlands—being a ward of the pack didn’t entitle you to much, even if you were promised to the third son of the alpha—and it was a far cry from the room I have been moved to after my status as an omega had been outed. It was furnished with what was probably the most comfortable bed I'd ever seen—certainly more comfortable than any I’d slept in before—and the room was somehow both well-lit and cozy at the same time. I peered upward. Actual electric lights hung from the ceiling, explaining the phenomenon. A plush rug covered most of the floor, and it took all my self-control not to kick off my shoes and let my feet sink into it. It was better than I’d been expecting slave quarters to be.
But then, it wasn’t the room I had a problem with.
It was the bastard who’d put me here.
He must have been used to dealing with meeker girls than me, though. Maybe last time he came and snatched one, he’d picked a good little shifter who played by the rules and hadn’t had to survive in the middle of a pack that hated her. But he was about to find out just how resilient becoming an omega had made me.
I paused a moment, wondering what exactlyhadbefallen his last ‘servant’ or whatever.
Yeah, no way was I sticking around to find out. Time to go.
I cocked one ear to the door for a long moment, but he was gone—probably sat on top of his hoard congratulating himself on a successful slave-gathering trip, or whatever it was dragons did when they weren’t busy ruining my life.
I hurried over to the window and gave it an experimental tug. It budged immediately. Unexpected. But whatever. I wasn’t about to look a gift escape route in the mouth. I eased it all the way up, then swung one leg over the windowsill and peered down. One flight down. I’d jumped from higher and not killed myself before.
I shrugged and swung my other leg over, lowering myself down as far as I could while gripping the sill, then dropped the rest of the way. I landed on the damp grass with a soft thud, and paused there for a half dozen heartbeats, waiting to see if either of my ankles was about to give way beneath me. They didn’t.
Awesome.
