Page 60 of Dragon Heir

Let the sanctimonious bastard see what he’s missing by being so disciplined.

Chapter Twenty-Three

True

I stare down Vynessa as she defends Master Sinetar. The pompous windbag may believe that he outranks me, that his blood is purer than mine, but even he must know how weak he is. Sinetar knows every dragon in the kingdom is searching for Vynessa, but he gave in to his desires for her. He let his craving for her body make him reckless. I would never do such a thing. Not now, not ever.

“Sinetar. Return to the palace. I will protect the princess from here,” I bite out, my fury barely suppressed. “You’re probably already missed at court. We need to follow the plan.”

The royal tutor’s eyes narrow, but he smiles. “Missed?” he asks, tilting his head towards Vynessa while cocking an eyebrow at me. “I disappeared with Vynessa hours ago. Your plan is useless now. If I return, they’ll torture her location from me.”

For a moment I consider. Could I send the man to his death? Does part of me even want him dead?

As much as the insolent worm needs to be taken down a hundred pegs, I don’t. He’s a thorn in my side, but Vynessa has real, genuine feelings for him, and right now, she trusts him.

“You are needed at court,” I say. “You are still in the queen’s employ. We will continue as planned. You may tell them that I relieved you of duty, and you occupied yourself with a lady at court.”

I reach for Vynessa, and she doesn’t move away. Instead, she takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “Are you sure he’ll be safe?”

“Yes. His reputation as a lay-about fuck-boy will protect him better than I ever could.”

Vynessa drops my hand, but Sinetar doesn’t look offended by my words. Instead, he pulls his arms from Vynessa and rubs a hand over his face. It’s by far the most real gesture I’ve ever seen from the man, a glimpse of something more than the playboy tutor who takes pride in defiling every student in his charge, teaching them the ways of the court and the ways of the flesh in equal measure.

Finally he sighs. “You’re right. I can probably even find a woman to corroborate the story. Kimbra will, especially if I bend her over first.”

Vynessa flinches. It’s infinitesimal, but I see it. She doesn’t say anything, though, and when Sinetar wraps his arms around her, she turns and kisses him deeply.

I can’t watch, and yet, I can’t look away. My job is to protect her, no matter what it does to me. There will be worse nights—outside her room when she’s with her king, inside it for her mating ceremonies.

I’m not part of this, as I was in her chambers that day. This is not arousing. It’s painful.

“You’re going to be okay?” she asks Sinetar, cupping his cheek in her palm.

The edge of concern in her voice knifes into my heart, slicing it further.

“You’re in good hands,” Sinetar says. “True’s been in the queen’s guard for hundreds of years. He wouldn’t lay a finger on you.”

She frowns. “I know that. I lived with him.”

Sinetar’s eyes flick to me and then back to the princess’s face. “Right. Forgot about that. Then you certainly know he’d never lay a finger on you.”

The insinuation is not lost on me.

Princess Vynessa does not miss the inflection in Sinetar’s voice, either. Pink sweeps over her cheeks, and she glances at me from under her lashes. With her copper hair flowing in waves over her shoulders and the sun shining on her face, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Go and do whatever you have to do so they don’t suspect you,” she says, her voice strained.

Sinetar drops into a crouch then springs into dragon form, shooting towards the palace like a torpedo.

Damn, he’s fast. I have to give him that.

“Are we wearing magic armor?” she asks, squinting after her tutor. “It turns into scales on us when we’re dragons, then back into clothes when we’re human?”

“It’s made of dragon skin,” I say as I gesture toward the forest. “We start at a jog, but I want us running in less than ten minutes.”

Probably for the first time ever, Vynessa obeys me without question.

As we run at an achingly slow pace, I explain, “Your own dragon skin reacts to your armor by melding with it. If you were injured by normal means, it would act as a skin graft, healing and closing your wound.” Even as my attention is on her, I scan the forest, searching every shadow for danger. Flying would be a hundred times faster, but the danger is exponentially more. There’s no hiding her dragon form. I watched her take off with Sinetar, and I know her colors do not lend themselves to camouflage.