Page 112 of The Dragon King's Assassin

“Human filth!” Vettan hissed and lunged for me.

I sprang onto the bed and kicked at his face. Unfortunately, although I outclassed the Captain in clean killing, he was better at brawls. He grabbed my foot before it made impact and wrenched it in a direction it wasn't meant to go. I screamed as I lost my footing, falling from the bed to hit the ground hard.

“Lock!” Taroc shouted.

“Shh, Your Majesty. Your guards are busy at the gate with some drunken Nerakians—friends of your little fuck-boy, I assume. They won't hear your shouts.”

While he was taunting Taroc, I dove for Vettan's legs. Once he was down, I lifted my blade—the only one I'd managed to keep a hold of—and aimed for his crotch. Hey, desperate times.

Vettan kneed me in the face, cracking my teeth together and sending me tumbling backward. I lay on the floor with my legs twisted half beneath me, and gasped past the pain. Blood ran down my throat, both inside and out, and my eyes watered. I couldn't see Vettan as he came for me, but I heard his heavy footsteps.

“Stupid little pig,” Vettan hissed as he picked me up again. “You've walked right to your slaughter.

My chest suddenly burned. I looked down to see his claws in my belly, angled up toward my heart. They hadn't quite reached it yet; he was taking his time. Making me watch and writhe in agony as he sliced his way closer and closer.

“No!” a roar came from my left and then I was falling, Vettan's hand wrenched free of me.

I gasped, spat blood, and clutched at my belly. Blood gushed between my fingers, but my stare was locked on the two men. One of them wasn't entirely a man anymore.

King Tarocvar Verres stood four feet taller than he'd been just moments before. The shorts he'd worn to bed were hanging from his bulging body in shreds and his skin gleamed with the gloss of crimson scales. Curving up from his temples were ebony horns, his hands had become talons, and a pair of enormous, black wings swept up from his back.

In the grip of those royal talons, Captain Vettan struggled. “Why can't I shift?!” He swiped at the King's wrists, but his claws only clicked and skidded across those ruby scales. “You're the one who's drugged. You shouldn't be able to shift, not me!”

“There was poison on that first blade,” I wheezed, then laughed. “You're already dead, Vettan.”

The Captain's wide eyes went to me.

“And nothing can keep a Dragon from shifting to save his mate,” Taroc snarled. “Not even a traitor's drugs.”

He broke the Captain's arms and tossed him to the ground. Powerful feet tipped in claws came down upon Vettan's legs and the resounding cracks added bass to his screams. As soon as he was disabled, Taroc rushed over to me.

“Lock?” The King eased me gently onto his lap.

“Taroc,” I whispered as I stared up into his strange face.

Covered in tiny scales, he shone as if made of glass, those teal eyes so bright beneath his heavy, ridged brow. Small horns had emerged from his cheekbones in diagonal lines, leading up to, and going back into his wild hair. His lips had thinned to almost nothing, and they parted to reveal sharp teeth.

“Don't speak.” His hand went to the wound in my belly.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me later. Just rest for now, Lock.”

“Taroc, I'm human; I won't survive this.”

“Yes, you will. You're going to be fine.”

I smiled at his lie. “I shouldn't have left you. I'm so sorry. It was my stupid pride.”

“Don't be sorry. It's all right now. You came back to me. It's all right. It's going to be all right. I've got you now.”

“Taroc, stop.” I took his hand and wet my lips. “Just let me say this before—”

“You're not dying, Lock.” His stare went to the blood that seeped between his fingers and tears began to well in his eyes. “You can't be dying.”

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but you'll have to make do without your assassin.”

“Lock.” He met my stare.

---