Page 23 of Blood Singer

The thought sent a surge of anticipation through me that I couldn't suppress. My dragon wanted this, wanted her, in a way that bypassed logic and reason entirely. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to claim her, to mark her, to make sure every male on this planet knew she was mine.

Which was insane. She wasn't mine. She was an Alliance operative here on a diplomatic mission, and I was a king who'd already destroyed thousands of lives by letting desire override judgment.

I couldn't afford to make that mistake again.

But I also couldn't seem to stop myself from walking toward it.

The bells chimed the hour. Time to meet her in the northern courtyard. I dressed quickly in clothes I could easily shed before the transformation, then made my way through the castle's quiet corridors. Most of the household was still asleep, my footsteps echoing against the stone floors.

When I emerged into the northern courtyard, the sun had just cleared the mountains, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. The space was large and open, designed specifically for dragon transformations, with smooth flagstones and no obstacles that might interfere with the shift.

And there, standing in the center of the courtyard with her face turned toward the sunrise, stood Leila.

She'd dressed practically, soft leather pants and a fitted tunic that wouldn't catch in flight, her honey-blonde hair braided back from her face. But it was her expression that stopped me in my tracks. She looked excited, almost giddy, her green eyes bright with anticipation as she turned at the sound of my approach.

"Good morning," she said, and her smile was so genuine, so free of guile or calculation, that something loosened in my chest against my better judgment.

"Good morning." I moved closer, and her scent reached me with startling force. Sweet and complex, with notes of something floral. And underneath it all, her blood song, stronger now, clearer, singing a melody that was becoming less Marion's echo and more something entirely new.

I could smell her excitement, sharp and bright like citrus. But no fear. Not even a trace of it.

"Are you ready?" I asked, my voice rough.

"I've been ready since you asked me last night." She bounced slightly on her toes, the gesture so endearing I almost smiled. "I barely slept. I kept thinking about what you'd look like, trying to imagine it. But I don't think my imagination is going to come close, is it?"

"Probably not," I admitted. Then, because I needed to know. "You're not afraid?"

She tilted her head, considering the question seriously. "Should I be?"

"Most humans are. The first time they see a Drakhoni in dragon form, they run."

"I'm not most humans." Her chin lifted slightly, and I recognized the stubborn determination I'd seen yesterday when she'd defended herself against my accusations. "Besides, you invited me here. You wouldn't have done that if you thought you'd hurt me."

The trust in those words did something to me. My dragon surged forward, demanding I shift, demanding I show her exactly what I was.

"Step back," I said quietly. "Give me room."

She moved immediately, retreating to the edge of the courtyard but keeping her eyes fixed on me. I could feel her gaze like a physical touch and caught the spike of anticipation in her scent.

I closed my eyes and reached for my dragon.

The transformation was always intense. A rush of power and sensation as my body restructured itself, bones lengthening and reshaping, scales erupting across my skin. But this time, with Leila watching, it felt different. More significant. Like I was revealing something sacred, something that could never be taken back.

My clothes tore away as my body expanded, muscles and mass multiplying exponentially. My spine extended, forming the long serpentine neck and tail of my dragon form. Wings erupted from my back, massive and powerful, spreading wide to catch the morning light. My hands and feet became tipped with claws, each one as long as a human forearm and sharp enough to rend steel.

There was pain in the shift. The tearing of flesh, the grinding of bone, the stretching of sinew beyond what should be possible. But it was nothing compared to the power that flooded through me as my dragon form took hold.

This was what I truly was. Not the male who sat in council meetings and negotiated treaties. Not the king who wore the weight of responsibility like a crown. This, the wings that could carry me across continents, the claws that could tear through stone, the fire that burned in my chest waiting to be unleashed, this was my birthright. My truth.

The power sang through every fiber of my being, ancient and primal and utterly intoxicating. I was apex predator and force of nature combined, a creature of legend made flesh and scale and fury.

My scales gleamed black as midnight with veins of gold running through them like molten metal, each one overlapping the next in perfect armor.

When the transformation completed, I stood at my full height, easily forty feet at the shoulder, my head level with the castle's third-story windows. I stretched my wings, feeling the morning air catch beneath them, then lowered my head to look at Leila.

She hadn't moved. Hadn't run or screamed or shown any of the reactions I'd expected from a human confronted with a dragon for the first time.

Instead, she was staring at me with her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide with something that looked like wonder.