Page 55 of Bride of the Black Dragon
“Xaren…” I whisper, but his name is swallowed by the wind.
His spine arches, and I hear the sound—an awful, wondrous crack—like mountains moving, like the world itself breaking open. His back ripples, golden light spilling through as if his blood itself is molten metal. The air smells suddenly of lightning and burning cedar, sharp and electric.
He drops to one knee, clutching the ground. His fingers—those strong, capable hands that held me so tenderly last night—lengthen into black talons capable of carving into the stone. His arms widen—muscles thickening as his skin darkens from bronze to shadow to a glossy, liquid black that catches the light like obsidian.
The sound of tearing cloth and bone fills the air as his back splits open. Two immense, scaled wings unfurl—black as midnight on the outside, but when they catch the sunlight, they gleam deep violet, like a bruise touched by moonlight.
I stare at him, my eyes going wider and wider. Goddess of Mercy… I’ve never seen anything like this before—never even imagined it.
The transformation continues—his face elongates, his nose and mouth becoming a long, proud muzzle. Rows of sharp ivory teeth as long as swords flash as he lets out a low, shuddering growl that reverberates through my bones. His clothes have shredded and fallen away entirely now, disintegrating into ash that scatters across the cliff.
The Drake’s body swells and expands—bigger and bigger—until I can hardly comprehend the scale of him. He is huge. His wings alone could blot out the sky. His tail curls across the cliff floor, thick as an oak trunk at its base and narrowing to a forked end as big as my head. When he finally stills, the ledge that had seemed so vast before now looks small beneath his massive body.
I stand frozen near the iron door, the torch long since extinguished in my hand, my heart hammering in my chest.
Goddess… what a monster!
But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know it isn’t true. He’s not monstrous—not to me. Because when he turns his enormous head toward me, his movements are slow and careful. His eyes—those same molten gold eyes I’ve come to know so well—glow like twin suns.
He lowers his massive head until it rests upon the ground before me. The gesture is gentle, almost reverent—a giant bowing to someone fragile but greatly valued.
His head is twice as long as I am tall. His horns are elegant curves of polished onyx, and the scales along his snout are small and smooth, shimmering faintly with hints of deep purple where the light touches them. Steam curls faintly from his nostrils as he exhales, and the scent that fills the air is the same as Xaren’s skin—spice and smoke and something clean, like rain striking hot stone.
And yet, despite his size, despite the teeth and claws and the faint shimmer of flame deep in his throat, I don’t feel afraid.
If anything, I feel…drawn to him…drawn to the beast.
It’s a pull deep in my chest, a magnetic tug that feels older than memory—a feeling too deep and true to ignore or deny. I want to go to him. No, more than that—I need to.
The Drake’s massive golden eye regards me solemnly. It blinks once, slowly—almost like a nod. And somehow, I know it wants me to come closer.
It wants me to trust it.
“No,” I whisper to myself, and shake my head. “Not it… him.”
Because the Drake isn’t just some mindless beast—it’s Xaren. His other self. His truest self.
I take a shaky breath and step forward.
“Hello, er… it’s nice to meet you,” I say, my voice trembling despite myself.
The great golden eye blinks again, a long, slow shutter of the lid that feels more alive and expressive than any words could be. Warmth flows from him, rippling through the air—heat that radiates from his body like the steady hum of a furnace.
I get the strangest feeling that he wants me to touch him. Not because he demands it, but because he needs it. The thought presses into my mind, soft and insistent—like a whisper without sound.
“Can… can I touch you?” I ask softly, raising my hand.
The huge head remains still, and that blazing eye holds mine. It blinks again—I take that as a “yes.” I walk forward, towards him.
The closer I get, the more details I can see. Each scale is perfectly formed, not sharp like I’d imagined, but smooth and faintly iridescent. They catch the light like polished gemstones. His neck is as thick as a castle tower, and the slow rise and fall of his breathing makes the very ground tremble beneath my feet.
My hand trembles as I reach out and press it lightly against his muzzle.
Heat thrums beneath his skin—almost too hot, but not quite painful. And then?—
Oh Goddess of Mercy—something shifts inside me.
It’s like a wave crashing through my soul. I’m suddenly flooded with emotion—fierce, wild, and utterly pure. There’s no mistaking the feelings that roll through me in a rush: possessiveness, protectiveness, and beneath it all, a love so deep and vast it feels like drowning in the ocean.
