Page 6 of Dragon My Crazy

“There you are,” Seth said, his voice dripping with amusement. He looked at Emmett, his expression still just as jovial as ever. “Can you bring my mother back?”

Emmett let out a low growl, very much sounding like the dragon he was. But Seth had spent his entire life dealing with powerful beings, man and beasts alike, and he ignored the growl and instead said, “You have five minutes before I send Mateo to get you.” Then he puffed out of existence.

Emmett exhaled sharply. “Well. That was unexpected. He always like this?”

“Yup. Still interested in having me as Melantha’s governess after how that one turned out?”

“Of course.” He dug into his pocket and retrieved an iridescent bronze scale. “You know the drill. Just rub this and think of me.”He said the words with a salacious grin, the suggestion in them clear as day.

I didn’t even dignify that with a real response. My eyes rolled so hard I practically saw my own brain. So this whole thing was a bid to entice me to the job. It might’ve worked with someone younger and more gullible, but I knew better. This wasn’t real; he was dangling himself like a carrot in front of me only because he found me useful. Why else would a dragon who could have anyone he wanted be interested in me?

“No, thank you,” I said, not sparing even one glance at the scale. “I’m not interested.”

I was done being coveted by men because of my usefulness. I wanted someone who wanted me for me, not because of my magic or my experience raising magical kids. I’d tried it the other way, and I’d rather be alone.

Emmett shrugged and tucked the scale back into his pocket. The smug grin returned to his face as he escorted me back inside the museum and through the magical dong exhibit to the stairs. Mateo met us there.

The manticore, whom I’d cared for like a second son, glared at the dragon like he was two seconds away from ripping his throat out. But no violence transpired as he took my hand and continued leading me back into the ballroom to my table.

The rest of the night was a blur of music and laughter. The table of WEC wizards suddenly didn’t feel so scary anymore. I enjoyed the night and actually had fun.

It wasn’t until I was back in my room inside Desmon’s estate, putting my feet up with a groan, that I saw it. There, nestled inside my clutch, was a single bronze scale.

Chapter 4

Emmett

Iwavedthegold-dustedfruit chunks in front of Melantha, trying to coax her into shifting. “Come on, sweetheart. Just a little human form for Daddy?”

Green scales with bronze shimmer, just like her egg, my daughter was a ball of restless energy. Still tiny, but so fast. Her little wings flapped behind her uselessly as she launched herself toward me. She lunged for the treat with her snout, nearly knocking the plate out of my hand.

My shoulders slumped. Eight months old, and still no sign of her human side. That wasn’t good. Most dragonlets showed their other form by now. If they didn’t by their first birthday, it meant they didn’t have a human side at all. No human side meant no human brain.

Back in the old days, it wouldn’t have been that bad. Sure, it would’ve been unfortunate that one couldn’t enjoy the company of their offspring as a human, but a dragon who couldn’t shift could still make a living terrorizing villages, hoarding treasure, and generally being a menace to the world. But as humans became the dominant species, the ability to shift and walk amongst them when need be became a necessity. Humans ran the world, and dragons who didn’t have the intelligence of one would be at a mortal disadvantage.

In fact, while I knew that reversion to our more primitive forms existed, I didn’t actually know of any hatching in the last few centuries—and the older ones are now long gone—unable to hide as humans grew in numbers and spread across the world’s continents. The last one I knew of died a while ago somewhere in Antarctica, with nowhere else to go.

Was it because none had hatched, or had the parents culled them to save them the eventual tragedy of being hunted by humans? It wasn’t just the humans either, but other dragons as well. We were a territorial bunch, and it was rather common to use angry mobs of humans against each other. Before the age of video, a dragon was a dragon; it didn’t matter that the one that lay siege on a village had been blue when the one they were hunting was green.

It was the reason why I’d claimed my little sliver of home here in the snowy peaks and verdant valleys of the Canadian Rockies. Even now, in a world bursting with humans, it afforded a level of privacy I preferred. My demesnes spanned up and down the range, bounded to the north by the Arctic Circle—that had been claimed by another dragon—and to the south by the American border.

Humans were territorial too. But I’d been around long enough to know that these lines moved over the centuries and didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. It was the beings and things inside the lines that mattered, and moving a line does not change the fealty of those within. The resources, however, were a different story.

And unlike my brother, who had many intelligent creatures living under his wing, both magical and not, my land boasted many natural resources but few people. Or at least it had until very recently. A small town, filled with magical beings and monsters, had congregated right under my wing in recent years. I wasn’t quite sure what I planned to do about them. I came to the mountains seeking privacy and refuge. But alas, as it often happened with dragons throughout the ages, humans expanded into my range.

My fortress home rose from the mountainside, its stone walls blending into the jagged peaks of the Rockies from afar. I’d switched out the old balistraria in several of the rooms for floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the interior with natural light while offering breathtaking views of the valley below. Inside, the decor was a mix of rugged luxury and modern amenities, favoring heavy wood furniture, leather upholstery, thick woodenbeams supporting the vaulted ceilings, and a massive stone fireplace.

Except currently, every flammable inch of the estate was covered in a fire-retardant spell, magically reinforced to survive a fire-breathing toddler. The curtains had been the first casualty. Melantha had reduced three sets to ash before we gave up and replaced them with fireproof fabric that looked more suitable for a military camp than a dragon’s home.

Even the rugs were treated with a magic spray that made them resistant to flames, though they still bore scorch marks from her early experiments. Fire extinguishers hung in every room, and her nursery had been outfitted with a sprinkler system that activated at the first hint of smoke. Still, no amount of preparation could fully contain the chaos of an angry dragonlet determined to test her limits.

The longer she stayed in her dragon form, the more often her tantrums, and I wasn’t sure we could stay here much longer. I could move her to my cave, but without the human objects around her, I worried it might seal her fate.

I tried to entice Melantha to shift again, holding out the pastel-pink plastic plate decorated in hearts. But this time, I growled at her in dragon tongue.Melantha, look. You want this, don’t you? Just show me your human side. Just your hands.

She blinked, her amber eyes not giving away whether she had a human side or not as she snatched at the plate again with her baby dragon teeth, tail lashing in frustration. I sighed.

For the last few months, I’d tried everything: only spending time with her in my human form, bribing her with treats and toys, even shifting back and forth in front of her to show her how it was done. Nothing worked.