Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Boyd holds a water bottle out to me. “Use your shirt and clean off, Emma. We can’t let that dragon get away.”
Throat dry, I take the bottle and stare at my brother. “Boyd…”
“Just do it,” he barks, nervousness in his tone as he glances up at the wheeling dragon overhead. “We don’t know how long he’s gonna be in a good mood for.”
He’s not wrong. I feel trapped. Angry, frightened, and miserable, I strip my shirt off, glad I wore my ugliest, most serviceable bra today. I soak the shirt in water and then scrub at my skin with it, glaring at my brother as I do so. I clean my neck, under my arms, and then—because hey, no humiliation is quite complete without a good public cooter scrub—between my thighs. Then I fling my shirt down on the ground with a wet slap. “Happy?”
“We’ll see,” Boyd says, backing off. “Might wanna crouch near the car so he can’t pick you up.”
Pick me up?! Motherfuck. I scramble over to a stalled car in the parking lot and huddle near the front tire, cursing my brother under my breath. Fuck Boyd. Fuck these nomads, and fuck Azar for thinking this is a good plan. I’m utterly terrified, and I’m pretty sure that I’m going to run away screaming if the dragon dives again.
“He’s coming in,” someone calls out. “Be ready!”
The men scatter, and I bite back my whimper of distress, closing my eyes. I wait for the end.
There’s a heavy thud on the asphalt, and then silence. I squeeze one eye open and I see a man crouching, all golden skin and long, windswept hair. He’s golden all over, with small horns on his head and spikes that jut out from his elbows and down his arms. As he straightens, I realize he’s naked. His gaze flicks on the others briefly before he heads toward me. His eyes are whirling the gold-on-gold that I remember seeing before.
He’s looking at me like Dakh did Sasha.
Like he wants to fuck me and eat me at the same time.
The dragon-man looks so wild and feral and untamed that I’m fascinated despite my terror. I don’t dare to move a muscle as he approaches, and he reaches down and caresses my cheek, his fingers burning. Oh. I stand, looking him in the eye.
He studies me with fascination, his strong, handsome features devouring me with a look. His nostrils flare as he takes in my scent, and then he touches his chest. “Zohr.”
The word is guttural and thick, and I know it must be his name. When he touches my chest, I blurt my own name out. “Emma.”
“Em-mah,” he murmurs, saying it like a caress.
Oh. No one’s ever said my name like that before. I don’t know what to think. Fascinated, I keep staring at him. I think he feels the same way I do, because he keeps studying me, gaze moving over me as if I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen and he doesn’t know what to make of it.
But then his expression shutters, and a look of anger flashes over his face. He crouches low, a scarce moment before three nomads tackle him.
I stumble backwards, shocked. Someone grabs me by the neck, jerking me off my feet, and I choke, flailing. “Got her,” snarls Tom. I watch, struggling to breathe, as he points at the dragon. “If you want her to live, you’ll stop fighting.”
I want to tell him that the dragon won’t understand English. That they need a mental connection to talk to people. But Zohr’s gaze darts to me, watching me claw at Tom’s too-tight arm.
And he bows his head.
Tom’s arm loosens enough that I can breathe, and I gasp, slapping at him with my hands. “Good show,” he murmurs in my ear, and I’m forced to watch as Zohr is trussed up in a collar and something that looks like a spiked vest, but the spikes are turned inward. I can guess what that’s for—if he transforms again, those wicked looking daggers are going to slice his wings to ribbons. He’s trapped in human form. Manacles are placed around his arms and legs, and someone approaches—Old Jerry, the group’s “doctor”—and shoves a syringe in his neck.
As I watch, Zohr’s eyes blaze with anger, and then he slumps to the ground, unconscious.
Everyone’s silent. We’ve done the impossible. We’ve captured a dragon.
No, I think. I’m not part of this crew. I had no choice in the matter. I grab a handful of Tom’s arm hair and twist, hard.
“Ow! Fucking bitch!”
He releases me, and I stumble forward, holding my bruised throat. “You…goddamn…asshole,” I cough. “What the fuck was that?”
“Shut up,” Boyd tells me, coming to my side and grabbing my arm, hauling me to my feet. “It’s all just part of the plan, Emma. Ain’t no harm.”