Page 61 of Howling
When you think of a dragon, you think of fire. If not for Gramps educating me on the many different species and how to kill them, I would be completely clueless as well. Over and over, the old man continues to save my life with his training, and it still hurts to know he’s gone.
He was my champion, my savior, my hero.
Without him, I feel adrift.
Digging through my memories, I recall what he told me about dragons.
Witches and mages have hunted them to extinction, harvesting their scales, blood, and other body parts as ingredients. Their essence is so strong that any spell created with them is nearly indestructible.
The dragons fought back, which gave the council an excuse to step in. They claimed that dragons were a menace, too powerful to be allowed free without supervision. They are war machines, creatures who could rain down hellfire from the skies.
Fear is a strong motivator.
The council turned the populace against them.
The few dragons who survived the purge were quickly captured by the council and collared. Any who resisted were slaughtered.
No one seemed to get the irony—that the council no longer has anyone to keepthemin check. Their reign of terror has been longer and bloodier than all other wars combined.
No other species has killed as many of our people.
The dragons were the only ones who stood a chance of defeating them, which is why they were targeted.
Frost dragons are thought to be myths. While the other dragons are deadly, frost dragons are absolutely lethal. They are considered planet killers. They’re bigger than average, stronger too, but it’s their ability to freeze the planet that makes them so dangerous. They can prevent crops from growing, starve out whole populations, and crumble civilizations.
Garth and Dante are grim as they watch the frost force its way into the road, and the ground cracks under the assault. Ice thickens along the chains, coating the links, turning the metal completely white.
With one last impressive flex of his muscles, the chain shatters.
The links crack like the report of a gun. Pieces no larger than a quarter fly in every direction, shards of metal raining down and pinging to the ground. I’m dragged backward, out of the blast zone. I watch with wide eyes as smoke rises from the shattered pieces, like water is being poured over dry ice.
The display of power should be terrifying, but I can only gawk at him in awe.
It’s like learning unicorns are real, and they can shit rainbows and sparkles.
Magic crackles so loudly that my ears pop, and a wave of power ripples through the air. As soon as the spell is broken, the chains disintegrate. I immediately tense, waiting for him to knock me out cold and drag me back to Kyperian. Sure, he offered his word, but Orion are programmed to obey the council by any means necessary. What’s a little lie?
I stare at him defiantly.
Nothing happens for a few heartbeats, but I don’t let down my guard.
Distrust is too ingrained in me.
The dragon inhales deeply, his chest flexing impressively, and my mouth waters in appreciation. Heat warms my core, and I curse my body for betraying me. How inconvenient. The last thing I want is to be attracted to any of these men. It will only complicate things more, which is the last thing we need when on the run.
Even the smallest distraction can be deadly.
The Orion ignores the others, his attention focused solely on me, much like a predator who caught sight of its prey. Instead of retreating, I lift my chin and narrow my eyes. Facing off against a dragon is pure stupidity, especially a frost dragon, but I refuse to bow before anyone else ever again.
I’m not weak, and I won’t pretend to be otherwise.
I spent my whole life hidden away. If this is my only chance at freedom, I’m going to do my damnedest to live it to my fullest.
A tiny smirk curls the dragon’s lips at my lack of fear, his eyes glinting like diamonds in the cold morning air, pure devilry dancing in their silver depths. “If we’re going to be partners, you may call me Bellamy.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FRANKIE
