Page 20 of Claimed By the Sinful Dragon
My path carried me directly over the packlands, and I swept low, relishing the gasps and shouts that rose up in my wake. I opened my mouth and bellowed a roar as I passed over the center of their town, letting my momentum take me clear of their settlement before I swung around and made for it again, this time locking eyes onto the grassy clearing where I’d collected my Tribute just days ago. The pack’s meeting place. Perfect.
I arched my neck as I approached it again, then opened my mouth and breathed out a stream of flames. The ground was damp, but that was no hinderance to my dragon fire. Somewhere, a scream went up—fear, not pain—and I ignored it as I thudded to the ground amidst my flames. My scaled legs effortlessly trampled out those nearest to me, but the rest licked at the trampled grasses in the meadow, burning them to ash before greedily reaching for more fuel. I threw my head back and bellowed a challenge as I looked around me in satisfaction. They wouldn’t be meeting here without thinking of me for some time. Myth, my scaled ass.
Several figures came racing towards me, but drew up short as I snaked my head towards them, snapping my jaws in warning.There was only one person I wanted to see right now, and he better not have the fuckingaudacityto send his underlings.
One of the shifters raced away, and more gathered, hanging back and chattering anxiously as they watched the flames devouring their meeting spot. The taste of their fear was intoxicating, swirling in my palate like the finest wine.
I made eye contact with the closest shifter—a young male, perhaps my Tribute’s age, watching me with a potent mix of disbelief, fear, and awe painted across his visage. One of the ones who’d imagined me a myth until recently, no doubt. He held my eye—fool, there was a time I’d have killed someone for such an insult—and I curled one front claw, gouging the soft earth beneath me, each claw mark large enough to bury one of his limbs. He paled as he watched and a flicker of satisfaction rushed through me.
Movement in my periphery caught my attention, but I didn’t take my eye from the young shifter. The ‘alpha’ was here.Finally.He hurried to the wolf ensnared in my gaze, and whispered rapidly in his ear. At once, the young man dropped his gaze from mine, and I grunted in satisfaction. Perhaps I wouldn’t incinerate him. This time.
I shifted back to my human form as the alpha came forward to greet me, keeping his eyes carefully on me, and not the flames still flickering around the meadow.
“Lord Rook. We weren’t expecting a visit.”
“Do I need to schedule an appointment to visit my own lands, wolf?” I growled.
“No, of course not,” he said quickly, flicking an anxious glance back at the shifters gathered just beyond the meadow, allstill watching us. I grunted irritably, and his eyes snapped back to me.
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re worried about losing face in front of your pack, or about this shithole you call a home burning down. If I’m here, I’d better be the center of your fucking attention, is that clear?”
“Yes, of course. I meant no offence.”
“Well bad news, I’m offended. You know what happens to people who offend me?”
The shifter drew in a careful breath. He wasn’t used to bowing to others, even his betters.
He’ll learn,my dragon rumbled inside my head, his voice laced with satisfaction. The man’s fear was like nectar to him. To us both.
“I apologize, Lord Rook. You have my full attention. How may my pack and I serve you?”
“I wish to discuss the Tribute you sent me.”
Unease flashed through his eyes, and I felt the emotion echoed in my skull.
Why are you speaking of Kaylee? We will not return her.
They sent us a shifter who can’t shift. She’s an insult. Insults will not be allowed to stand. Especially with Uther looking for weaknesses.
We willnotreturn her,he snarled again.She’s ours.
We’renotreturning her. But we’re going to make sure this asshole knows his place.
The dragon settled at that, his anger turning to savage anticipation as we redirected our attention to the wolf shifter waiting patiently, uneasily, in front of us.
“We will discuss this in private,” I told him. “Dismiss your pack. I don’t care to be gawked at.”
“Of course. At once.” He turned and gestured to the gathered shifters, and they started to withdraw.
“Stop,” I commanded, my voice ringing across the clearing, and they froze as one. I singled out the youth who’d dared to meet my eye. “You. You will remain. Approach.”
The rest melted away as the youth hesitantly came closer, working so hard to avoid looking directly at me that he almost fell over his own feet.
“You think yourself worthy of meeting my eye?”
“I—I’m sorry,” he said quickly, staring at the ground in front of him.
“This is my son, Dean. I apologize for his lack of etiquette, he’s young.”
