Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Then, a stir erupted in the gallery. Projecting all kinds of ferocity, Taron raced down the steps. Raced to me. The crowd parted, either afraid to get in his way or curious to learn what the queen’s supposed firebrand would do. His gaze remained locked on me, blazing. When he reached the bottom of the stands, he hopped over the railing, entering the arena. I stood rooted, breath catching.
He stopped a mere whisper away from me. Close enough that I felt the heat radiating from his skin and saw the honey in his irises melt.
My world narrowed to one man and one impossible bond. I tipped up my chin, refusing to be the first to break.
The crowd quieted, every eye upon us, I was sure. I was too overwhelmed by emotion to care about an audience for this moment with Taron.
“You shouldn’t be down here,” I said, my voice husky from smoke and strain. “Unless you wish to fight me.”
“Not that.” His stare raked over me. My bloodstained clothing, my heaving chest, my wild, half-braided hair. “Never that again.”
I gulped. “You shouldn’t say that.” Dang it, I sniffled, unable to hold back a new flood of tears. “I’m a monster.”
“You are an inspiration. You did whatever proved necessary to survive and ensure the safety of your people.”
That wasn’t…I, he…what? “You need to stay far from me, Professor.” My guess? He didn’t understand the ferocity of my struggle right now. “I meant what I said before. I can barely stop myself from dousing you in my flames.”
His focus lifted, remaining on my face, lingering on the cut at my cheek, the soot on my brow. “Maybe I’m already burning,” he whispered. “Maybe a part of me wants to…try.”
Smoke congealed in my throat, constricting my airway. “What are you saying?”
“Do it,” he said, jutting his jaw. “Douse me in your flames. Let’s learn the truth of our connection once and for all.”
The words echoed inside my head. We stood there, locked in a strange stillness. Even my dragon went still. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My thoughts were too tangled. My desires, too. I wanted to reach for him and shove him away all at once.
What if he died, like Leopold?
What if this time, I didn’t survive it either?
My blood flashed ice-cold. Though I’d just faced down three immortal competitors, I pulled back from this one mortal man, shaking my head. “Nein, I won’t risk you,” I croaked, then turned on my heel and fled, leaving him standing in the blood of my enemies.
Chapter
Eighteen
Begin with patience. If it fails, try intimidation. If that fails, feed them.
-Humaning for Beginners: A Dragon’s Tale of Human Management
DAY FIVE
“Two more days. Only two more days. I won’t think about Taron’s offer to douse him in my flames. I won’t.” The mantra echoed through my mind as I handled the endless weight of queendom business. Things I’d put on hold to flirt with a human and show him the delights of my realm. Review reports from my dragon scouts. Inspect the finalized plan of the new barracks. Audit the treasury. Hear the concerns of my citizens.
Once the tonic severed the bond between Taron and me, I’d be joining the search for the four dragons of the apocalypse: Cedric, Lorik, Nyla and Councilman Roland. Commander Hoffmann would be secondary objective. That they’d gone silent left me worried. Edgy.
To my increasing annoyance, and perhaps maybe a wee bit of reluctant fascination, Taron followed me the entire day. He offered no interruptions, no commentary or interference, but he was always right there, behind me, watching, listening. His gaze remained a constant stream of heat boring into my nape. Okay, maybe it wasn’t only annoyance I felt.
What thoughts churned behind his unreadable expression? He couldn’t really want to be burned…could he? Not that I was going to ponder the development.
My awareness of Taron expanded, conquering new ground as we settled into my office. While he studied my bookshelves, I tried to focus on the mass of papers scattered across my smoky quartz desktop. Nein. Only the man mattered.
I attempted to center my thoughts as streaks of blush-toned gold shimmered and reflected the glow of a fireplace that was always warm, never hot, and fed by eternal coals. But nein. Still only the man.
Often I lost myself for hours, consumed by memories as I stared at the shelves climbing the walls, crammed with accounts of every dragon battle, glass cases featuring relics from fallen empires and jars of ashes labeled in eight different languages. I tried it… nope, only the man.
I returned my attention to the stack of files and papers before me. A final report on the Firebound Festival.
Taron trailed his fingers along the spine of a heavy tome, looking gorgeous and comforting, and I ached to burn him.
Ugh. Next.
A note from my interim Warden of the Ashkeepers. He’d conducted a thorough questioning of every scribe Franz commanded in the Library of Legends and thankfully discovered no other dissent. I pushed down the flicker of sadness and grief. He’d chosen battle; I’d chosen to survive.