Page 46 of Dream Reaper

His eyes narrowed slightly, and the tension in his body seemed to increase rather than deescalate. Her pulse thundered more quickly. Maybe that had been the wrong tack to take…

“And,” he began, his tongue reaching out to touch his top left incisor in a way that seemed very, very deliberate, “if I say no, wife?”

Her stomach dropped as she eyed that incisor. Flames, she was talking to Dragon. This was definitely Dragon. But he still looked like Jerrid…mostly.

“I, uh…” She struggled to tear her gaze away from that very sharp and pointy tooth.

Was it too late to change tactics?

As if sensing her intention to flee, Dragon reached out with Jerrid’s hands and caught her by both elbows, locking her in place.

“Let me go, Dragon,” she said quietly, staring into his eyes and wishing they were Jerrid’s eyes.

His teeth flashed as he smiled, and he tugged her a little closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, could smell the ash of his fire…

He bent his head toward hers and whispered a word. Just one pointed little word.

“No.”

CHAPTER 12

JERRID

Dragon pulled Ava closer to him, inhaling her scent, enjoying the guardedness in her gaze.

She looked like a tender doe longing to bound away into the forest, but he wasn’t going to let her go. Oh no, he would keep her close. Very close.

Her skin felt soft in Jerrid’s hands, but the bones were firm and strong beneath the thin layer of her delicious scent. He had always liked elves—they smelled so good—but dark elves?

He loved dark elves.

No, Jerrid snarled, writhing in his mind like a caged, wounded creature. You don’t love her.

His gaze dropping to Ava’s mouth, Dragon leaned a little closer as Jerrid yanked hard for control of their body. Jerrid was wrong. He was always wrong about so many things…

You don’t love her, Jerrid repeated, almost frantically. You just like her because she’s spunky and won’t put up with your nonsense.

But neither did Brynja… Did that mean he loved her too?

Jerrid began to choke violently, his unspoken no reverberating in their thoughts as loudly as a clanging bell.

Dragon grinned and congratulated himself on maintaining control when Jerrid was clearly so determined to shake him loose. He wouldn’t let go. He would hold on for all he was worth because this was too much fun.

He liked having a wife.

She isn’t really our wife! Jerrid roared, a note of panic in his thoughts.

Dragon couldn’t think of anything else he would rather be doing. Even a long hunt in the woods didn’t please him as much as this did—this having-a-wife business. The only thing nicer than holding Ava in his hands was listening to Jerrid whine and bellow about it in the background.

He would never let go. He would⁠—

Jerrid wrenched control so violently, Dragon felt himself slipping away. Ava slid out of his hands. No, she was flung out of his hands. Dragon watched in horror as she skidded backward and slammed into Brynja.

Both maidens went down in a tangled heap, Brynja swearing and Ava yelping out an angry, “Dragon!”

It wasn’t me, he wailed, but Jerrid had stolen his voice.

He roared in protest as Jerrid took the reins and slammed him back into the box, the box that confined his movements and clouded his thinking…