Page 2 of Hoarded By the Dragon

Oh, fuck.

“By all rights, I should snap your neck.” The press of the speaker’s body has a sweat replacing the chill. Heat comes off him in waves. Do dragons really breathe fire?

I try to swallow but fail. My racing heart threatens to go over the edge, but the man holding me loosens his grip a small amount.

“You’re the dragon, I presume?” My voice is scratchy, but surprisingly stable.Please let this just be a guard.Anyone else other than the dragon that owns this house. But something about the presence of the man at my back removes all doubt. I still really hope it’s not him.

His snort kills that hope.

“We can work something out,” I say instead. Criminals evade capture not because they are smart, but because they can pivot. I may have forsaken the criminal life… but in my soul, I still am one. No matter how much I try to make amends.

“Why would I want to work something out withyou?” His derision is heavy and biting.

“Because dead bodies are inconvenient?” I try.

“I could just eat you.”

My heart is ice, but for some strange reason, my body isn’t frozen in panic. The heat spreading through me and making me sweat is relaxing muscles that have very good reason to be tense. There are some other reactions lower down that I’m not thinking about right now.

“I think,” I whisper. “That I’d be terrible eating.”

His laugh is cruel, and something sharp drags against the sweating skin of my throat that feels distinctly like teeth. “Maybe. And maybe not.”

Inappropriate sensations race over my skin. It only gets worse when he inhales my throat as if scenting me.

Why is he scenting me?

His body tenses and he pushes me sideways, away from him and out of reach of the figurine. The strength in that small motion leaves me sprawling on the marble floor before I bounce up into a standing position. I freeze when I come face-to-face with the man most only speak of in whispers. The man that people say is a dragon.

Kalos. I don’t know if it’s a first name or a last name, or if he is one of those one-name wonders in our world. The ones who are old enough and rich enough not to have to worry about the trappings of mortals. He’s just as scary as I’ve heard.

And beautiful, in a terrifying way. Like how I’d imagine a fallen angel to look, if that angel had glittery black scales to accompany his cutting, light-colored eyes.

“An acrobat, are you? Is that how you got in here?” he asks like he doesn’t expect answers.

I’m no stranger to adrenaline. My heart should be thundering in my ears now, my body preparing itself to run, but it’s not.

My eyes take in the man in front of me like I’m at a buffet instead of on death row.

The robe he’s wearing is black and silky and doesn’t do enough to cover his body. He’s mostly humanoid in appearance and the peak of masculine beauty with smooth skin and defined muscles. The glittering scales keep him from passing as a human. They cover talon-tipped hands and line the sides of his ethereal face, blending into his dark hairline.

I swallow. The pounding of my heart is a full-body sensation; a drum roll as the heat that caught in my core builds even higher.

“How did you make it past the wards?” The tone of that question makes it clear he wants my answer and snaps me out of whatever trance he’s putting me in.

Alarm is a distant sensation, and I dig deep for survival skills I know I have.

Can I make a run for it? Kalos must catch me glancing around for an exit because he makes a sound with his teeth that has me freezing. A warning.

I shiver, my body drawing tight and easing in a confusing way.

“Sometimes… wards don’t work around me,” I admit.

He narrows his eyes. “Sometimes?”

I shrug. “When I walk through them.”

“You have the ability to just pass through them as you wish?” His voice is a smooth roll that I want to touch even as his eyes narrow on me.

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