Page 19 of The Dragon King's Awakening

Just when I think I can't take it anymore, everything snaps back into focus.My feet hit solid ground and my knees buckle.Only the dragons' hands keep me from collapsing completely as my stomach rebels.I barely manage to turn away before losing my breakfast all over a pristine marble floor.

Attractive.Real attractive.

Somewhere behind me, I hear the distinctive sound of two dragons being violently ill.So much for their dignity, or their breakfast.

"Breathe."Naia's voice comes from somewhere nearby, sounding completely unfazed."The nausea will pass faster if you breathe."

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and crack my eyes open to find we're standing in what appears to be an ornate foyer.Or rather, I'm hunched over in an ornate foyer while my dragons are on their knees several feet away, both of them sporting a concerning mix of scales and sweat, their auras churning with distress.

"That was..."I manage to croak.

"Worse than dying," Zahraxis growls, his voice rough.Golden scales ripple across his skin as he fights for control.

"You haven't died," Finn points out, looking about as graceful as a seasick cat as he tries to stand."Though right now, I might prefer it."

"Dragons always take it harder," Naia says, somehow managing to sound both sympathetic and amused."Something about your inner fire fighting the River's flow."

She gives a small bow."This is as far as I can take you.The queen's offices are warded against unauthorized drifting."She smiles warmly at me."Good luck, Rachel."Then she dissolves into fine silver mist that dissipates in seconds.

A polite cough draws my attention to a massive security desk, where an impeccably dressed man watches us with the carefully blank expression of someone who's seen far stranger things than two dragons vomiting on his marble floors.

"If you'll wait a moment," he says smoothly, "maintenance will handle the..."He gestures vaguely at our collective mess.

Just another Tuesday for the guy at the security desk, apparently.

Chapter12

Finn

The elevator ride is pure torture—not that I'll let Rachel or Zahraxis see me sweat.Every muscle in my body aches to spread wings, to escape this suspended metal cage.Dragons are creatures of sky and earth, and this unnatural box violates every instinctual boundary.The urge to fly burns like a physical pain, a constant pressure just beneath my skin demanding release.

Zahraxis' anxiety pulses like a living thing, washing over me in golden waves.Under normal circumstances, a Gold dragon at full power can transform entire rooms into emotional pressure cookers.Right now, his diminished state reduces his emotional bleed to a low-grade hum rather than a full emotional tsunami.Small mercies.Thank fuck he can't crank his empathic abilities to eleven, or we'd all be crawling out of our skins by the time we reach the top floor.

His hands curl into fists, knuckles white, golden scales threatening to break through his skin."What manner of torture device is this?"he mutters, a thread of ancient dragon irritation in his voice."A box that moves without wings, suspended against all natural law."

Rachel's steady hand on his arm seems to anchor him, her touch a subtle reminder to maintain human form."Problem?"she asks.

"Dragons aren't meant to rise without wings," I explain, my hunter's pragmatism masking my deep discomfort."It's...unsettling."

Zahraxis mutters something that sounds like a curse in his ancient tongue, his golden eyes fixed on the floor numbers as they tick upward."How much higher?"

"Forty more floors," I say."Try not to think about it."

Rachel reaches for both our hands, and we latch on like she's our lifeline.Her aura is a study in deliberate calm—fascinating, really.Most humans would be radiating nervous energy, but she methodically projects tranquility.It's almost like watching an adolescent dragon test their limits, and provides a hint of what she might be capable of once we complete our mating bond.

I’m halfway through that thought when her thumb brushes the inside of my wrist—just a light touch, grounding, steady—and something slips loose in my chest.

I glance down at our joined hands, then up at her.“Touch me again like that,” I murmur, not even thinking, “and I’ll forget we’re pretending I don’t already own you.”

Her eyes flick to mine, wide—but not with shock.No, it’s something deeper.Recognition.Awareness.

Zahraxis’ aura flares briefly, but not in jealousy—just heat.The moment passes, but it leaves its mark, humming beneath my skin.

But too soon that sensation is replaced by golden waves of anxiety crashing over me like shards of broken glass, each spike of tension cutting through my composure.Zahraxis isn’t faring quite as well from a simple touch, his distress bleeding into the small space.When I glance at where Rachel has his hand gripped in hers, I see her thumb caressing his wrist with more intention.Her touch may have distracted me in the worst possible way—now all I want want is to pin her against the wall—but it has a much needed grounding effect on Zahraxis.Rachel's steady, intentional calm begins to weave through his turbulence, slowly subduing the wild energy.By the time we reach the top floor, her control is nothing short of masterful.Hell, maybe she’s the one who ownsus.

The moment the doors open, we surge forward into the reception area, dragging Rachel with us.Zahraxis takes several deep breaths, his shoulders relaxing incrementally as his feet reconnect with solid ground.The tension that built during our elevator ride begins to dissipate, our bodies recalibrating to the stability of solid earth.My wings feel like they can finally settle, the primal dragon instinct to flee the suspended metal box slowly unwinding.

The space around us gradually comes into focus: gleaming steel and glass, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Manhattan that speaks to the kind of power only a dragon court could command.

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