Page 54 of Escaping my Dragon

“It’s talking.” Noah couldn’t have sounded more surprised if he tried.

“You don’t say,” drawled the Ebony. “You can have him, Tig. He doesn’t seem too bright.”

“We are not here to take servants,” chided Alistair. “But to do something about that.” No need for him to point.

“Do what exactly? Have you seen the size of it?” The pink dragon waved its hand. “Maybe we should give it what it wants and get in its good graces.”

“What does it want?” I blurted. When all the eyes swung on me, my stomach sank. “You’re here to bring me to it.” A remark that led to me glancing at the still stretching behemoth. Was there any point in even trying to resist?

“While it did demand quite forcefully that we retrieve you, I managed to fight the compulsion and ordered the hatchlings to shake it off, too,” Alistair explained.

“It can control minds?” Vernon squeaked as I pushed my glasses up on my nose and squinted as the wings suddenly folded and the sun blasted me in the face.

“It didn’t control me,” the ebony huffed. “It merely asked for a favor.”

“It wanted you to kidnap me.”

“We wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a poor servant,” exclaimed the pink. “Imagine hiding away instead of being thankful for the honor he bestows.”

“Pretty sure his plan is to kill me.”

“Probably because you’ve failed to properly do your duty,” the ebony noted.

“She truly has,” the pink tsked.

Before I could retort, the little orange clapped its paws and bounced again. “I didn’t know we could grow so big.”

“Neither did I,” muttered Alistair.

Trust Joslyn to not be frozen in disbelief. “Holy shit. I need my camera.”

“Don’t talk about anything good until I grab my microphone,” Vernon added racing into the station.

“Um.” Noah couldn’t have looked more flummoxed if he tried.

Me? I ignored the little dragons to stare at the mega one. The one who wanted to lay claim to my eggs. Who held up his paw and waved.

At us.

Me.

Gulp.

He began walking, each step shaking the ground underfoot. Guess that was to be expected with a dragon that had to be a mile or more in length.

“Is it heading for McMurdo Station?” Noah queried, looking pale.

“Probably looking for lunch,” my morbid reply.

“There was nothing living left at that settlement,” Allistair interjected, “If I had to guess, he is going for a magma bath.”

“Won’t he burn?” I might have sounded a tad hopeful.

Alistair shook his head, but it was the orange dragon who stated, “Dragons are born in magma. It helps us develop in the egg and cures the shell to hatch.”

“After a long nap, heat revives muscles long disused,” added Alistair.

“Like soaking in a hot tub,” I muttered.