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I snort. “And why did you trust her to do this spell?”
“We told her if she didn’t, she’d remain our prisoner forever. I promised that as long as she did the spell correctly, she would earn her freedom.”
“What if she had performed a spell like the one her father cast, and killed all the male dragons?”
“The casting of that spell killed the Supreme Sorcerer, and I assumed she would not want to die.”
“Well… at least you tried to think it through.”
He looks up at me, annoyance in his eyes—lovely dark eyes. Human eyes, in a handsome face. God, he’s beautiful. Why did the enchantress have to make him gorgeous? Broad shoulders, mounded pectorals with tight beaded nipples. A defined abdomen, a large cock, strong thighs—I rip my gaze back up to his face as warmth rushes into my cheeks.
“Is it a permanent transformation?” I ask.
“Not entirely, I think.” He places long brown fingers over his chest. “I can still feel my dragon form and my powers, inside, though I don’t know how to access them.”
“Right, and you still have the—” I gesture to his horns. “I wonder how long this form will last.”
“I don’t know.” A muscle in his jaw flexes.
“You should get up and wash the sand off, otherwise it’s going to be very uncomfortable for you later.”
“Very well.”
Fear must have galvanized him into action before, because when he tries to get up this time, he wobbles and keels over immediately.
I can’t help a small laugh, and he shoots me a glare that could incinerate stone.
“Do you want some help?” I ask.
“It’s the sand,” he growls. “It won’t—I can’t—how do you humans exist with such wretched narrow feet?”
Stepping closer, I hold out both hands. After several curses and failed attempts, he gives in, grips my fingers, and manages to haul himself upright. His tall, lean body sways against mine, the hard planes of his chest bumping against the softness of my breasts.
Images tumble into my mind—the dragon’s face between my thighs, his tongue stroking into me. I remember the sensation when I rode on his back—the thrill of having such a powerful being under me. I felt wickedly aroused by him then, and I hated myself for it. But now he isn’t a dragon anymore. He has a broad, warm chest, and muscular arms, and fingers—god, such strong fingers, tipped with dark claws. When he moves, there’s a shimmer to his skin, like a faint gleam of the dragon-fire buried deep within.
I’m in such deep shit.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I say crisply. “Watch your step. Take it slow.”
We wade into the ocean until the water is up to his knees. As we walk, he keeps glancing down between his legs at the very fine penis swinging there. The sight of it seems to displease him.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
He gives me a tragic look. “It’s so small.”
I choke out an incredulous laugh. “No, it is most certainly not small. Maybe compared to your dragon dick, but in human terms, that is a very large cock. A rather nice one, too—” Shit, I need to stop talking. “We’ll go a bit deeper so you can wash yourself, and then we should find somewhere to get out of this wind.”
“I feel so tiny and naked,” he says, shuddering.
“You are naked.”
“It’s more than the lack of clothing. I feel weak. Unprotected. Vulnerable. How do you live like this? You must be frightened all the time.”
“Sometimes. Especially when I’m being seized by a huge dragon and carried away from everything I know.”
“Point taken,” he mutters.
We wade out farther, until the water reaches his waist. He holds himself steady with one hand on my shoulder while he rinses the sand from his lower half and bathes the blood from his torso and arms. He grimaces at the sting of the saltwater, showing a row of white teeth with wickedly sharp canines.
