Page 6 of The Orc King's Bride

“I would assure you of this if I could. The female’s independent nature and fighting spirit make her unpredictable. I urge you to tread carefully with her, sire.”

“Do not overstep, Mornah,” I growl, though the fire in my warning is more embers than flame.

She meets my gaze without flinching. “Someone must. Sloane has scars from her time as a slave.”

My maid’s words hang in the air. She has served me since my birth, her judgment seldom in error.

Her demeanor softens, her tone dipping into something almost gentle. “She is like a cornered animal—dangerous and impulsive. I expect she will seize the first opportunity to escape.”

A slow smile spreads across my face, causing even Mornah’s composure to falter. “Then let us create such an opportunity.”

My maid’s eyes widen in comprehension. “Surely you do not mean—”

I raise a hand, silencing her. “Leave the details to me. You have done well, Mornah. You are dismissed.”

She hesitates, clearly wanting to say more, but years of discipline win out. With a final nod, she exits my chambers.

Alone once more, I move to the window, surveying the vastness of my kingdom. Somewhere beyond these walls lies the key to taming my wild mate. All I need to do is offer her the illusion of freedom, let her believe she has outwitted me.

And when she inevitably flees…

I will follow.

Chapter 6

Sloane

I grab the table lamp,hefting it in my hand like a club as I cautiously approach the window. Fear and curiosity keep my feet moving forward. Who—or what—could be out there? I’m three stories up, and there’s not even a window ledge to perch on.

As I get closer and see the source of the scratching, my jaw drops. Holy shit, it’s a bird the size of a large cat.

No, not a bird. A miniaturedragon.

I blink hard, wondering if I’m hallucinating. But when I open my eyes, it’s still there, hovering just outside the glass.

Its scales shimmer with an iridescent blue-green, catching the light in a way that’s almost hypnotic. Translucent wings flap effortlessly, keeping the creature suspended in mid-air.

This can’t be real.

I shake my head, but the dragon remains. It has an oval shaped body and a short, thick tail it’s using to—what the hell?—knock on the window.

The dragon’s eyes meet mine, the vertical cat-like pupils dilating, and I see intelligence there. It cocks its head to the side, as if asking, “Well, are you going to let me in or what?”

I stand frozen, the lamp still clutched in my hand, as I try to process what I’m seeing. A dragon. An actual, honest-to-god dragon. Knocking on my window. Like some kind of alien neighbor popping by for tea.

What do I do now?

Instincts I’ve honed during my years of survival in space scream at me to back away, to call for help, to do anything but what I’m about to do. But my curiosity wins out.

“I must be losing my mind,” I mutter as I reach for the window latch, briefly wondering if he breathes fire, or if that’s just a fairytale fantasy. I unlock the window and push it open.

Without hesitation, the dragon zips past me in a blur of iridescent scales and beating wings, the gust of air ruffling my hair. I spin around, trying to track its movement as it soars around the suite, performing aerial acrobatics that would make a fighter pilot jealous.

Finally, it lands gracefully on the dining table, right next to the untouched food tray Mornah left me. Its head swivels toward the food, then back to me.

“Are you hungry, little dragon?” I ask in a childish, sing-song voice.

I immediately want to slap myself.What am I doing, talking to a dragon like it’s a puppy or a kitten?But as the creature looks at me, I sense it understands.

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