Page 5 of Claimed By the Sinful Dragon
I miss when you used to speak once a decade,I bit back. His cold amusement rattling through my skull was the only response, and I beat my wings again, carrying us higher.
“You can’t do this, asshole!”
The furious shout came from the tiresome human under me. Coherent, at least. And fucking disrespectful. I thought the wolves were supposed to understand hierarchy. Seemed like this mutt was defective in more ways than one.
“Put me down, you bastard!”
I uncurled a single claw from around her waist, taking satisfaction when she yelped.
“Wait, no! Don’t put me down! Shit!”
A laugh rumbled up my throat, distorted by my dragon form.
“Asshole.”
I could picture the scowl on her face as she spat the word. Brat. The alpha should have warned her what to expect, prepared her for this—because I sure as hell didn’t need to be breaking in some untrained mutt who had no clue what was expected of her, and had thought I was a myth half an hour ago. A fucking myth, for crying out loud.
I am looking forward to it.
Of course he was. That was what happened if I didn’t let him out for a decent fight every few decades. He became a petty, vindictive creature wanting to prey on lesser mortals.
That makes two of us.
Shut up. This whole mess is your damn fault.
I should have just found some dragon to pick a fight with, and then we might both have slept better—and got Gaheris off my case. Now we had to deal with this situation instead. I blew out a breath. Fucking shifters. Always making life harder than it had to be.
Chapter 5
Kaylee
We finally toucheddown inside a small, grassy courtyard that seemed barely large enough for the beast to land inside. Walls twenty feet high loomed above us and ran the whole way round the courtyard. He tucked his wings against his flanks and set me on the ground, and I swayed for a moment, torn between collapsing on my ass and losing the remains of my breakfast. As luck would have it, I did neither, but I got the chilling sense that was where my luck was going to end.
By the time I'd regained my sense of equilibrium enough to turn around and open my mouth, ready to unleash a torrent of abuse in his general direction, I found he was back in human form—still fully dressed, interestingly enough, unlike any other shifter I’d ever seen—and regarding me with those steely gray eyes. My words died on my lips.
“Let's go,” he said gruffly, planting one hand between my shoulder blades and giving me a nudge forward toward an aging wooden door that looked like something out of that period movie I’d watched on Dean’s ancient tech when he’d been trying to impress me one time. Back before everyone knew I was an abomination. The door had hinges as broad as my hand and made of some kind of very solid looking metal, and a lock that dwarfed them. I guess the mythical dragon didn’t want uninvited guests. Too bad I didn’t fall into that category.
He pulled a surprisingly normal sized key from his pocket and slotted it into the lock, and the door opened under his touch. Another nudge between my shoulder blades sent me across the threshold on unwilling feet, and then the door slammed shutbehind him and the key turned in the lock one more time, sealing me inside the dragon’s home.
Truth be told, I'd had better days.
I watched him slip the key back into his pocket, and notions of pickpocketing flitted through my mind again, but even if I managed to get the key from him, I had no idea how the hell I was going to get out of this mansion, or where I would go if I did.
“Turn around.”
I blinked at him, absolutely certain that turning my back on this stranger was the last thing I wanted to do. He arched a brow, apparently not used to being disobeyed. Well, he'd better get used to it, and fast, because I wasn't someone’s well-trained puppy. He picked the wrong wolf for that. In fact, he’d somehow managed to walk into a shifter pack, and leave with the only person whowasn'ta wolf. I really hope that didn't screw up his plans. Oh, wait...
“What do you want with me?” I asked. I tried to meet his eye as I spoke, but it was basically impossible, and in the end I settled for staring at one of his broad shoulders. I’d look at the ground, but I didn't want to give him the wrong idea about how afraid of him I was. Or the right idea, to be precise.
“I have a pact with your pack,” he said.
“I don't have a pack,” I retorted. “Not anymore.”
“Nonetheless, I have a pact with them. I allow them to exist in my shadow, protected from the attention of other dragons—and myself—and in return, they provide me with a Tribute—a shifter from their pack to act as my servant.”
“Servant implies I'm getting paid,” I said, canting my head and, annoyingly, not quite managing to fix him with a glare.
“You may choose a less flattering term, if you prefer.”
