Page 7 of Dragon Flames
I tug on the collar of my jacket, a little uncomfortable under his reproachful stare. “What? I like women. All women. I can’t help it if they like me back.”
Even though Elias isn’t looking at me, I don’t need to see his face to know he’s rolling his eyes.
The man is a fucking monk. If he’s ever dallied with a woman, he’s so discreet that neither Darius nor I have ever seen evidence of it.
As we enter the grand ball, I plaster on a smile to cover my grimace when the smell of desperation sucker punches me. Women from the ages of fifteen to twenty-five are presented at the debutante ball, hoping to find a mate.
They’re so sheltered, it isn’t even a sport.
I shudder at the thought of those girls pawing at me in the futile hope that it’ll trigger their heat. Everyone wants to be mated to a dragon, one of the few remaining ancient royal lines.
Talking to one of the debutantes is about as much fun as plucking wings off a fly.
The entire room reeks of desperation.
If a woman isn’t mated by the age of twenty-five, she’s sold to the highest bidder to be used as breeding stock. I’d been to one of those unfortunate places, helped shut it down, but it was a futile effort.
Another whorehouse would spring up within a few weeks.
Only those with pots of money can afford to bid on the girls presented at the ball. If the family can’t afford to pay the bride price for their daughters, the girls are sold off.
It’s a disgusting practice that should’ve been outlawed centuries ago.
The moment we walk through the doors to the ballroom, I’m whisked away to the private viewing only granted to those with enough money to afford it. I snatch up a whiskey and follow Elias to the back room…until he’s called away.
Each female is posed, either standing or sitting, smiling demurely, so much like empty little dolls that I gulp my drink to avoid having to look at them.
Until I hear her voice.
“Touch me with that thing, and you won’t be getting it back.” The husky threat is low, but the promise of violence makes my beast shift uncomfortably under my skin. The sensation is both familiar and foreign, like the great beast is trying to talk to me.
But that’s impossible.
At least for another twenty years or so.
As my hundred-and-fifty-year mark gets closer, my dragon awakes more often, becoming more aware in preparation of shifting for our first time. While most paranormals shift during puberty, dragons mature much later.
My dragon won’t settle down, and its essence begins to burn through my veins.
“You’ve escaped justice for the past ten years,” a man behind me hisses, his voice low and vehement. “When I finally get my hands on you, I’ll crush that defiance of yours once and for all.”
My dragon’s roar is so loud that my ears ring.
Urgency pumps through my veins as I turn the corner and spot Lord Gresky towering over a little slip of a woman who’s mostly hidden behind his bulk. The man is a bully and a creep, but a powerful, deadly one who destroys everyone who crosses him.
Though I try to mind my own business, my dragon refuses to listen to reason, pushing and prodding me forward. “Problem?” I query, doing my best to sound innocent, taking a sip of my whiskey.
And nearly choke when I finally get a look at the woman.
Mine!
Whiskey burns down my throat as I swallow wrong. Gresky looks at me like I’m a pest he’d like to grind under his heel for daring to interrupt, then he gives me a mocking smile that holds a deadly warning. “Nothing that you need to concern yourself with. Beware of this one. Make sure you don’t stand too close. I don’t know what the government was thinking, dragging criminals out of prison for a showing. Like these creatures deserve a chance at a future. They should be put down instead.”
After his speech, Gresky stalks away. Instead of warning me off, his words only pique my curiosity even more. The lovely creature before me is divine, dressed in a flowing red skirt and a tight red and black leather bustier.
And my mouth fucking waters.
Her flowing silver hair shimmers almost green under the light, and my fingers twitch to sink into those beautiful strands and wrap them around my fists. Instead of lowering her eyes demurely, she lifts her chin and stares me down.
