Page 38 of Dream Reaper

“Jerrid?” she called, her voice trembling.

Dragon grinned and lay down in the center of the clearing. “Hello, Meat Pasty.”

The elf maiden spun toward him, color draining from her dark features and leaving them a pasty-gray hue. She stared at him in horror.

“You need to bring Jerrid back,” she said with the squeaky fervor of a mouse. “I need to see Jerrid, please.”

“He’s no fun.” Dragon yawned dramatically and stretched out his body so that she could see his scaliness in all its glory.

Her gaze skittered over him, but no admiration shone in her eyes. Only fear. Maybe he needed to tramp around and resort to some roaring to win her admiration. He could do that. He would do that…except he was especially tired after tromping around after Queenie.

And he was so hungry…

“Please.”

He sighed heavily and let his eyes flicker closed. “I want to eat first. Jerrid doesn’t eat enough to keep a cat alive. I’m Dragon. I need meat. Lots of meat. Tasty meat.”

She took a step backward when he opened his eyes and gazed straight at her in a pointed, meaningful way.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he laughed. “There isn’t enough meat on you to satisfy me right now. I don’t suppose you have a cow stashed away somewhere? I do love cow. Cow is always plump.”

Meat Pasty swallowed visibly, but to his surprise, she took a step closer to him. “You look tired.”

He yawned again. “I am. Cow would wake me up.”

“You should just…take a nap,” she suggested, too casually.

Dragon shot her a foul glare. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to trick me into going to sleep.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” There wasn’t an ounce of apology in the shameless lass. “You need to let Jerrid wake up.”

He shook his head, letting his scales ripple down his spine. Her gaze shot to his back and seemed to follow the flickering trail to the tip of his tail before returning her gaze to meet his.

So, she did like to look at him.

For some reason, this pleased him. He liked that she liked him. Which was perfectly ridiculous. Dragons shouldn’t care about such things as lovely elvish lasses and what they did or didn’t like. He blamed Jerrid.

Jerrid liked the lass, and that’s why Dragon found her interesting.

Surely that was it.

That isn’t it at all, Jerrid muttered. You’re just realizing Ava is more than a snack, is all. She’s worth keeping alive.

Dragon snorted, a curl of smoke slipping from between his lips.

“What?” the lass asked, narrowing her eyes and taking another step toward him.

“Jerrid thinks you’re pretty…Ava.”

She had a nice name, short and punchy, like her.

I didn’t say that! Jerrid bawled at the exact same time the lass sputtered, “I beg your pardon?”

Dragon nodded his head. “Oh, yes, he thinks you’re very pretty for a meat pasty.”

“That’s so rude!” She sounded shocked, but not nearly as frightened as she should have been.

He could see why Jerrid liked this lass. Ava had a hidden spunk. It wasn’t obvious like that other girl, the one who had gotten herself knocked upside the head and now lay bleeding into the soil. She was obviously spunky. She had no qualms about doing or saying whatever needed to be done. But the elvish lass… Her qualities were more subtle.