Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
The shade—which is a light blue tint mixed with platinum—somehow exudes power and prestige.
Like me.
Like my dragon.
Right as I prepare to discard the wooden weapon another creature soars into my wrecked office.
It’s still cloaked in leather except it isn’t svelte.
Or pale.
Or smells like it fell off a fucking gingerbread house.
No.
This being is clearly something else based on her herculean stature and olive-green, tattooed skin.
Shit…Is that a faint scent of campfire smoke?
Fuck me.
That shit has me grimacing and grinning alike.
I know that scent a little too well.
She’s an orc.
My bar fighting career is what we can thank for that little bit of knowledge. I haven’t faced one head-to-head since my parents died, which was when I put a responsible end to destroying public property over stupid shit like who’s the greatest guitarist of all time.
We all know the answer.
It’s like come on, no one could ever play that shit better than someone with that type of tail.
And taking into consideration the way this female is glaring at me, I believe it’s safe to assess that she’s not here to have that debate or discuss adding our unique gems to that dagger secured at her hip.
“Well,” I adjust the makeshift bat in my grip while stepping out of the pool of blood that’s underneath my feet, “this should be fun.”
The enemy’s glower deepens at the same time she charges towards me in her black combat boots.
Defensively, I don’t exactly have top-shelf options. Thanks to her Santa’s workshop minions my office is a fucking wreck but leading this fight elsewhere puts others needlessly at risk. I mean a middle of the day cheesy action style fight on the rooftop of one of the most famous buildings in all of downtown might be entertaining for the masses down below who would surely stop and gawk; however, those are the same individuals who would die from the falling debris caused simply by maneuvering around in my ancient form.
No.
This fight needs containment.
Not escalation.
Killing her would be the easiest option yet subduing her is the more valuable one.
She’s clearly not like the lackeys that have been sent in numerous rounds to attack my family. Whether she’s their boss or just higher up on the Magitek food chain is unknown information at this moment, and truthfully, really more of a guess that I’m merely making based on my brief blinking appraisal.
Then again, if I’m wrong—which I rarely am—and she just so happens to be a ‘roided up henchman with no useful knowledge, she’ll swiftly meet the same fate as all the others only because it’s what’s absolutely necessary to protect my brothers.
Their mates.
The unborn arrogance of dragons that my ancient side whispers daily are coming.
I’m honestly just looking to collect data not deaths.
I’ve recklessly taken enough lives over the centuries I’ve lived.
Unfortunately, we’ve reached a point where it’s kill or be killed by this monstrous company that seems to be going on the offense rather than staying on the defense.
Killing is becoming less of an option and more of a requirement nowadays.
I don’t like it.
However, when it comes to doing what must be done, I rarely do.
Welcome to being the head of a fucking family.
I’d toast to that bullshit except I hardly even drink anymore.
Gotta stay sober to keep everyone safe.
Taking a sparring stance indicates I’m prepared for the first strike executed my way, but when her fist flies through the piece of wood that should’ve been additional protection and straight into the middle of my face it’s crystal clear I’m not nearly as ready as I thought. Wood shards briefly stab my skin before being drilled in deeper on the second blow.
The third.
The fourth.
By the time she delivers the fifth, I have no doubt that they’re on the verge of becoming permanently engrained in what I’m fairly certain is now a broken nose.
Neither blocking nor breathing are viable options due to an uppercut punch propelling me backwards into the wall nearest my broken conference table. The impact creates a cartoonish like outline of my figure that I swear comes with the stupid cartoon birdies tweeting around in circles above my head.
Yeah, alright, this shit is actually a lot less fun than I remember.
Maybe it’s because I’m stone-cold sober versus being dragon-faced on six bottles of Odin’s Eye?
Oh…The Great Ones…those were the glory days.
Being so drunk it would take at least three nymphs to help me to my car and then fucking them in rotation until I was sober enough to fly.
That was for certain much better than this.
Astronomically.
The sound of her clomping informs me of exactly how close she is in spite of the fact my eyes are shut.
Heightened hearing like heightened smell is by far one of the more universally useful capabilities that comes with being a dragon shifter and definitely the one that is about to assist me in regaining a literal leg in this fight.