Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I screw my face up, eyes closed and shoulders hunched in the dragon's grip as I try to protect myself. To my surprise, the butcher-knife-sized sharp claw brushes against my lip and then pushes into my mouth.
Er.
Is this some sort of sex game with dragons? Is this how I win him over? Do I suck on it?
God, I wish I wasn't a virgin. What a damn inconvenience. I wish I knew how to seduce a man, but even if I did, would it work on a dragon that wants his claw sucked? With a game smile, I politely suck on the thing in my mouth and try to be sexy about it. "That what you want?"
He pulls it away, and I could swear for a moment he looks as confused as I feel. The dragon—Mhal, I remind myself—lifts his claw to his nose and sniffs it. His eyes flare gold, the black bleeding away, and then it’s like he sees me for the first time. He pulls me close to his nose again and nuzzles me with his enormous nostrils.
I guess that's a start?
MHAL
The female licked my claw. She is trying to give me her scent. She is trying to brand me as hers in front of other females.
I am fascinated. It is a bold move for a female, to declare that a male is hers and try to give me her scent. Normally it is the other way around. After a female wins a male, he mates with her, and if he decides she is his, they share fires. If he decides she is not worthy, he spends his seed on her back to scent-mark her as a failure.
This is different, and I like it.
She does not act like she is claiming me, though. Her expression is wary, and when I extend my claw again, she licks it once more, but there is a hesitant look on her face. She watches me as if to see how I will react, and then babbles more sounds at me.
Speak to me, I demand. Tell me your name. Tell me your thoughts.
She makes more noises at me, reaching out to my claw and tapping it. She gestures at our surroundings, then looks up at me with a questioning gaze.
I do not know what she wants. I nuzzle at her, breathing in her scent, and when she does not flinch away, I uncurl the claws I have around her enough to let her sit in my palm. She wriggles in my grasp, shifting back and forth on her hips, and her arm covers her breasts. She keeps hiding them, and I worry something is wrong with them.
Does my mate have a wound she is keeping from me?
I nudge her with my nose, and she makes another one of her squealing noises and then pushes against my snout. I ignore her, sniffing at her skin. Her belly seems whole, her breasts, too, and I smell no blood. I run my nose over her skin just in case, and she bursts into fits of high-pitched sounds—laughter.
I am fascinated. I have heard amusement before, but never through the mouth. It always comes through thoughts, like proper communication. Are you happy, my mate? I send.
There is no response. She pushes at my nose again, making more of those noises when I blow my breath across her skin, trying to get a reaction.
She laughs again, squirming. The sound is bright and loud, and echoes off the walls. I like it, but at the same time, I am frustrated. Why will she not talk to me? Change forms, I demand. Change forms and we will fly away from this place to somewhere safe.
When she does not, I worry that she has been struck by madness. This world makes everyone crazed. Why not humans? She is mad, she will not change forms, and now I cannot reason with her. Perhaps this is why she makes so much noise instead of touching minds. I croon at her, rubbing my muzzle against her wispy mane.
What do you need? I ask her. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I lower my head, breathing in her scent, and then press my nose between her thighs. She is not aroused.
My female makes a yelp and shoves my head away. She babbles again, her laughter gone, and her expression is indignant. One hand moves between her thighs as if she shields herself from me. This is confusing to me. How am I supposed to mate her when she is not aroused? Yet she marks me with her scent and makes it clear that I belong to her. I do not understand my mate.
Perhaps she is crazed after all.
10
JENNY
I'm getting frustrated. Not only am I naked and abandoned with a dragon, but it's clear we've just been left to our own devices. What exactly are we supposed to do here? The dragon—Mhal, if it is Mhal after all—runs his nose over me in ticklish ways, but the moment he shoves his snout between my legs, I shut it down. I push him aside, and that seems to make his temper flare, as if I'm refusing him.