Page 52 of The Dragon 2
"That is a question that provides wiggle room for me to not know how to answer."
She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you telling me how to ask you questions?"
He said nothing.
She shook her head and thought of a better question. "Do you. . . want me to know your weaknesses?"
"Yes."
Why does he want me to know that? What could it be?
She thought for a little bit, and then asked, "Do you want me to trust you?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to be my friend?"
"I do not know."
"But you do not want to kill me?"
"I do not want to kill you."
"But you do want to take me?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
He smiled again. "Many places."
Her knees weakened.
This was not a man.
This was a riddle wrapped in heat, carved in hunger, and dressed like desire.
He raised his eyebrows. “When did your power begin?”
“Begin?”
“Yes.” He gestured to her hands. “When did the ice start sprouting.”
She pursed her lips.
“You’re not knowing what you are. . .your body must feel quite. . .good to release it.”
She parted her lips in embarrassment.
The man licked his lips. “Have you orgasmed from the release?”
“What? N-no.” She stepped back, fists clenched, ice coiling beneath her skin like smoke made of snow. Her body was shaking again—not from fear, but from heat and coldcrashing.
Then, at his feet, something stirred.
Tiny ice blossoms, pale as moonlight, sprouted from the dusty road.
She shivered. “W-what is this?”
