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The thunder of their moving bodies pounds deep into my very bones, quickening my heart. Music has always affected me powerfully, and there’s something about this primal rhythm that weakens my knees. Wind rolls from beneath majestic wings, tossing the hair of the women. Every dragon’s eyes are alight with fervent fire, jaws bared, necks proudly arched, horns gleaming.
“Fuck, they’re beautiful,” whispers a woman behind me.
As the stomping, humming, and thumping continue, groups of six dragons separate from the others and begin to dance. Some of them are rather awkward, whipping their wings, bobbing their heads, twisting around and around as if they’re chasing their tails. Others have a natural grace that makes even the silliest movements seem sensual. I try to pay attention to Rothkuri, who eagerly flaps his blue wings and jives in a merry circle, nodding his sleek head. But Kyreagan is in the same group, and I can barely take my eyes off him.
He dances as if he’s fighting. His neck snakes forward, jaws snapping in time to the beat. He whirls like he’s going to pounce, slashes his claws as if he’s attacking prey. Every line of his body, from his narrow yellow eyes to the tip of his tail, screams rage and passion and need. He is sinuous, glorious, wicked. I’m utterly mesmerized, and when his group retreats to make way for another, I’m disappointed.
He doesn’t want me. He said so. I need to make the best choice for myself, for my safety. Besides, I’d rather not make a decision about whether or not I should kill him.
What am I thinking? I can’t kill him. Despite every bad choice he has made, and the way we treat each other sometimes—I simply can’t. Perhaps, as the Crown Princess, I’m responsible to look out for the other captives and ensure they get home, but I won’t do it at the expense of his life. I refuse. If Jessiva wants to destroy the two princes, she’ll have to do it alone.
Should I warn Kyreagan that Jessiva plans to kill his brother? He might roast her on the spot. Perhaps I should tell Varex directly, so he can be on his guard. But is that a betrayal of my own people?
Once each group of dragons has had a turn to dance, the resonant hum grows louder and more compelling as the dragons break formation and stalk toward their audience. Some of the women squeal and clutch each other, but I hear breathless giggles threaded through the feigned terror. Now that they’ve seen the dragons in human form, everything has changed. The very air tingles with possibility, with power, with desire.
I wonder what the other dragons look like as humans. Surely none of them can be as handsome as Kyreagan. That doesn’t mean I want him—it’s simply an objective judgment. He is handsome. There’s no sense trying to convince myself otherwise.
The dragons continue to stomp and hum, but they pin their wings against their sides as they prowl around our group, like predators circling prey. With a short final roar and stamp, they all stand still.
“Our guests will now choose their guardian for the duration of the storm,” declares Varex. “Once everyone has chosen, you will have a moment to collect your things before your dragon takes you to his cave.”
I spot Rothkuri’s girl heading straight for him. He greets her with an affectionate nuzzle of her cheek.
If I’m going to choose him, I’d best be quick about it. But I need to speak with Varex first, before Jessiva gets to him. She’s talking in low tones with one of the women, so I weave my way through the other captives until I reach Varex.
He was watching Jessiva, and my appearance seems to surprise him.
“Princess,” he says with a respectful dip of his head. “I thought—I expected you and my brother to—”
I seize one of his jaw spikes and pull his head down so I can speak quietly in his ear. We’re not on the central stone anymore, but I want to make sure my voice doesn’t carry.
“Be careful of Jessiva,” I tell him. “She wants you dead.”
When I let him go, he lifts his head, pain flooding his amber eyes. “You’re wrong.”
“I hope so. Just… be careful.”
A large, spiked mountain of black scales and leathery wings enters my peripheral vision. “You’ve chosen him?” Kyreagan’s growl is strained with disbelief, tinged with hurt. “You’re going to shelter with my brother?”
“No, I’m not! I’m going with Rothkuri.”
Kyreagan towers over me, looking down his long snout with majestic disdain. “Rothkuri?”
“Yes.”
“No.” The word thunders from his chest.
“What do you mean, no? You said I could choose—that I had to choose. It’s either Rothkuri or Varex. Or maybe that one.” I point to a white dragon with sapphire scales sprinkled over his body. “Oh, the red one is lovely, and he danced well. Maybe I’ll choose him.”
Kyreagan snarls, his jaws wide, fire glowing at the back of his throat. Varex has slunk away, and the others are giving us a wide berth—all except for a pretty black-haired girl who approaches Kyreagan. “If I may… I’d like to choose you, my lord.” She smiles shyly. “And we can… you know. I’m willing to—”
“Oh good. Yes, please take him,” I cut in. “He could use someone sweet like you. Look at that adorable body of yours! I’ll bet she’s a good fuck, don’t you think, dragon? Carry her off to your cave, and I’ll go find Rothkuri.”
As I turn and start to walk away, Kyreagan gives a strangled roar. The next second I’m snatched up between his jaws.
I go hot and cold at once—freezing dread in my veins, shock heating my skin.
Kyreagan is holding me carefully, cradling me with his lips and tongue, but I don’t dare move for fear of impaling myself on his sharp teeth. His breath comes fast and frantic, not hot enough to burn me, but it stings. That panicked, rapid breath tells me he’s reached his limit. The immense weight of everything he’s been forced to carry is breaking him. He’s beyond rational thought right now, and only raw instinct is left.
