Page 13 of Claimed By the Dragon King

He clenches his jaw, lowering his gaze as if trying to decide how best to answer. He is quiet for so long I cannot tell if I’ve angered him or if he is sad. After a moment, he lifts his emerald eyes to me. “My father’s brother challenged me for the throne. I had just lost both of my parents. And my own flesh and blood… my uncle betrayed me when I needed him most.” He sighs heavily. “It has been ten years, and although the pain has lessened with time, the scar”—he brings his palm to his chest, directly over his heart—“still remains.”

It seems we are not as different as I’d thought we were. Each of us understands pain.

Silence settles in the space between us a moment before he changes the subject. “Are you hungry?”

“Just a bit,” I reply honest. “But… what about your wing? Is it feeling any better?”

He flexes his left wing experimentally, gritting his fangs as he tries to extend it fully before folding it back to his body. “It will heal,” he says gruffly. “But I cannot fly or shift forms yet. Not without risking damaging it further.”

I start to ask something else, but he pulls some of the meat from our pack and hands it to me. “Eat. You must maintain your strength. It will take at least half a day to reach the village of Arganth.”

“Arganth?” I frown. “Isn’t that a Dwarf mining village?”

He nods.

“Dwarves hate Dragons, do they not?” I ask, wondering if this is simply an unfounded rumor that has been repeated so often it’s accepted as truth.

“Yes,” he replies with a low growl.

I wait for him to say something else, but he remains silent, eating his food.

“Well, do we not need a plan then?” I press. “Or are we just going to show up at Arganth and hope that the Dwarves do not take issue with you being a Dragon?”

“If they know what’s good for them, they will suffer my presence in peace and silence.” His lips curl up in a snarl. “They should know better than to anger a Dragon.”

Great. It seems there is no plan except to hope that his mere presence intimidates them enough that they leave us alone.

Not likely to happen.

“You are one Dragon,” I point out. “And the village will be crawling with Dwarves.”

“Yes,” he grinds out. “But I will burn their pitiful village to ash if they—”

“Can you do that in this form?” I cut him off. “Or do you need to shift to cause that type of damage?”

His brows draw together, and I realize he has not thought this through.

“All right.” I lean forward. “Unless you have a better idea, here ismyplan.”

He listens intently as I explain that he should hide in the forest while I find a place for us to stay. Then, he can simply crawl into the window or something to that effect. His expressions cycle between irritation, anger, and something else I cannot quite put my finger on, and I’m not entirely sure he is convinced it will work.

“You expect me to hide in the shadows, skulking around like some sort of thief in the night?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes. Do you have a better idea?” I ask incredulously.

When he doesn’t answer, I nod. “I will take that as a no.”

Aurdyn sits back, crossing his arms with a grumpy look on his face. It seems he is a Dragon of few words and even less smiles.

It’s dark outside and I’m not sure what time it is, but I am exhausted. I lie down on my side, sighing heavily. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

He loops an arm around my waist, and I squeak in surprise as he pulls me against him. “What are you doing?”

With my back to his front, he drapes his good wing around me. Tucking his knees up under mine, he curls his much larger body around my own. “I am keeping you warm.” He loosens his grip. “But if you wish to sleep apart and risk dying of the cold, that is your choice.”

He moves back a bit, and I already miss the warmth of his body. “All right. All right,” I concede, and grip his forearm, which is still draped lightly over my waist. “You have a point.”

Aurdyn tugs me to him again. Heat creeps up my neck and face as my entire body hums in awareness of his. My hand rests lightly on his forearm, the thick cords of muscle wrapped in scales as soft and smooth as silk. We’re so close his breath is warm against the shell of my ear as he whispers in a low growl. “Are you comfortable?”

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