Page 20 of ColdIron
Even unconscious and smelly during the whole journey, she’d grown on me. There was something about her, the way she’d punched Nikolai despite being half-dead, the fire in her eyes before she’d passed out. The war paint on her face spoke of survival and strength.
I didn’t want her first view to be Nikolai’s stupid face when she woke. Even less did I want her mistaking the vampire as her savior or forming a trauma bond with him. I understood psychology well enough—the person who’s there when you wake from a nightmare becomes important, becomes trusted in ways that bypass reason.
If any bond was to be forged with this mysterious girl who disguised herself as a boy, it should be with me. After all, I’d carried her for fucking five miles on foot through the Scorched Wastes while neither Aelindor nor Nikolai offered to share the burden. Well. They might have offered at some point. I might have shot them down with a particularly sharp tone and possessive growling.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” Drakken stepped into my path, utterly naked and not caring in the slightest about his full-frontal display. His dragon form had shredded his clothes.
When had he shifted back so fast?
I looked up at the now-empty sky to show my exasperation before scowling at him.
“It’s shower time, Drakken,” I lied smoothly. “I’m covered in wyvern blood and it reeks.”
“There’s more work to do.” He crossed his muscled arms over his chest. I’d rather see the girl’s dirty, unconscious face than the dragon shifter’s nudity. “Bodies to burn before the wyverns corrupt the ground. Wards to repair before another attack. Strategies to discuss.”
“The soldiers can handle cleanup.” I tried stepping around him. “Strategies can wait.”
He moved to block me. “We need to talk about the attack. That Kharvox was modified, enhanced. This changes things.”
“It can wait until after I shower.” I put more force behind the words.
“Since when do you fuss about a little blood?” He narrowed his gray eyes. They saw too much—had known me since we were preteens fighting for our lives.
“I’m being polite.” I should have led with a different excuse. “You really want to police when I take a shit now?”
“You’re hiding something, wolf.” He wasn’t buying it for a second. He jerked his thumb toward the barracks. “The men’s restroom is that way.”
Fuck. He knew.
“Fuck off, Drakken.” I shook my head in disgust and made a show of strolling in the direction he pointed, just to throw him off my trail.
The moment I turned the corner and knew I was out of his line of sight, I doubled back and sprinted toward the infirmary at full shifter speed. I’d sensed Drakken shift back to his dragon form—felt the pulse of magic that always accompanied his transformation—and watched through a window as he launched himself toward the spring for one of his long, luxurious baths.
And he’d challenged me about needing a shower. The hypocrisy.
That dragon wasn’t normal, even by dragon standards. For one, he loved long, hot baths with specific temperatures and scented oils he had imported at ridiculous expense. For another, he didn’t chew on raw meat like a proper predator but constantly demanded it cooked medium rare and seasoned with herbs. And for three, even in his massive beast form, he refused to sleep on hard ground like any sensible dragon would.
I’d seen his lair—the one only us heirs were allowed to enter. Inside, two king-sized mattresses pushed together made a bed large enough for his dragon form. He indulged himself in silk sheets and mountains of pillows, which was absolutely ridiculous for a creature covered in scales.
I’d never known a dragon could be that high-maintenance, but I had no basis for comparison. Drakken was the last of his line. His entire royal family had been executed; his head would’ve rolled too if not for Aelindor.
The only things that convinced me he was a truedragon and not just a very large, very prissy mutant lizard were his instinctive love of hoarding valuables in his cave—gold, gems, magical artifacts, rare books—and his compulsion to burn things when frustrated. That part was pure dragon.
I broke into a full run, my boots pounding against stone. I’d already wasted too many precious minutes on Drakken and his stupid interrogation.
I knew this urgency to reach the new girl was ridiculous, borderline irrational. But I wanted to be the first face she saw, the first voice she heard when she opened her eyes in safety. The image of Nikolai alone with my charge kept flashing through my mind—him standing over her, staring at the veins on her neck with that hungry look, his fangs descending, his control slipping, him lunging forward before he could fucking stop himself.
All the way back to the fortress, he’d mentioned three separate times that her blood smelled like no other, like nectar and honey and midnight sun. It called to him on a primal level, a dangerous temptation even for a vampire prince.
My mind jumped to how her breast had felt under my palm even through the rough fabric. Distinctly female and perfectly shaped. Her heart had fluttered like a trapped bird under my touch. My cock had hardened instantly at the contact, possessive lust I’d never felt searing through my veins and making my wolf howl with need. It was a completely new experience for me, and I’d bedded countless women. I regretted letting the vampire double-check her breasts, lettinghim slip his hand under her rag-shirt while I just watched.
That privilege should have been mine.
I charged into the seclusion room, throwing the door open hard enough that it banged against the wall.
Just as the girl’s eyes fluttered open, midnight blue meeting mine with dark rage in them.
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