Page 19 of Dragon Cursed
There was no mention of gardens that withered.Of fatigue that yanked her soul out of her body.Of dead bumblebees on the doorstep of a cottage that had always been a place of life.It didn’t say anything about her dying.
She read the passage again.And again.The ancient words offered no comfort.Only a growing sense of dread.The prophecy was clear.Poppy was the eldest daughter — her mother's only child.The dragon had found her in the woods, as if drawn by a beacon.By her.She had touched him, all right.All over.The zap of energy they had both felt when she touched his arm still burned in her memory.
He had been shocked by her touch.He had followed her home.Kissed her.Given her so many orgasms she had stopped trying to count.
Based on the prophecy, everything was happening as it should.
Wasn’t it?
A single tear slid down her cheek.She closed the book and hugged it to her chest.A chill settled over her that had nothing to do with the morning air.
She was uneasy.Deeply so.But beneath the fear, beneath the dying garden and the bone-weariness and the dread that something was very, very wrong, a fierce, unwavering longing burned.
She had to see him again.
She needed to feel his arms around her.To lose herself in his touch and pretend, just for a little while, that everything was going to be all right.
That her wilting garden was a coincidence.
That the prophecy was a blessing, not a warning.
6
Poppy
That damn dragonhad snuck out of her bed two days ago.
Two days.
He should have returned to her by now.But no.He didn't call.He didn't write.He didn't mysteriously show up to seduce her when she took a bath in her garden.Poppy tried to summon anger and couldn’t work through the disappointment underneath.
Her feelings shouldn’t be hurt.She shouldn’t be sad.Rejected.Unwanted.Abandoned.
He was magical.A mythical creature.A dragon.Yes, the sex had been incredible.But he hadn’t promised her anything at all.
Hell, she didn’t even know his name.
He had followed her home.Kissed her.Touched her.Made her beg and plead and lose control.He had also left without telling her hisname.
Bastard.
Not acceptable.Who did he think he was?Dragon or no dragon, that boy needed to learn some manners.
She had checked on the village children yesterday.Finn O'Malley was sitting up in bed, demanding biscuits.The Donnellan girl had her color back.The Byrne twins were arguing over a wooden horse, which their mother said was the best sound she had heard in a week.The tincture was working.The children were getting better.
Which left Poppy nothing to do but brood about that damn dragon.
She put on jeans that hugged her backside and a sweater that showcased her breasts.Left her hair down.Dabbed rose and lavender oil behind her ears, between her breasts, the inside of her wrists.She told herself she only meant to go for a walk.
To clear her head.
She wasnotgoing out looking for him.
Absolutely not.
She shoved her phone, the only high-tech gadget she owned, into her back pocket, and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.
The cottage door clicked shut behind her.The dying garden lay at her back.Her boots found the path before her mind agreed to it.The air was cleaner here, away from the wilted marigolds and the small dark body of the bee she’d swept from her doorstep.She drew the fresh air deep into her lungs.
