Page 37 of Princess Seeks Dragon
I nod, not sure what to say, not sure how I’m tied up in all this.
But then Graham begins to change as he stares at me in silence.
His skin ripples as rows of purple scales form and fall into place like waves of silent dominoes. His fingers lengthen, and the knuckles become more pronounced. Talons. Claws. The face—
That handsome face turns into something almost cruelly beautiful, with little ridges of scale-covered bone forming on his cheeks and horns curling up from his dark hair.
In ten seconds, it’s over. The transformation is complete, and the coat is on the ground at his high-arched feet that end in claws.
The sight of Graham in his halfling form makes my insides squeeze and my lungs seem to stop working. Dark coils of muscle, covered in scales. Wings. Horns. A tail.
“What’s the matter, Princess?” The brogue comes out with a hiss, mocking me along with the tips of his white fangs. “Scared?”
I can’t answer, but if I could, the answer would be no. Turned on. So very, very turned on.
He bends to retrieve his coat, face closing over. When he rises, the anger is gone, and all that’s left is a sad somberness that’s plain even under the violet hue and the scales. “I’m sorry, Angela. Petty of me to prove it this way, but sometimes I’m stubborn. Sometimes I’m a fool.”
Graham turns to leave, and I bound across the room so fast my towel almost falls to the ground, sagging way down in back and only holding on because I’m clutching it in the front. I snag Graham’s arm with my hand.
He turns. Looks down at me.
Fingers tighten and tug.Don’t leave.
“Angela?”
My hand journeys up, fingers splayed to catch the texture of his scales as they seem to glimmer, iridescent in some places, dark and hinting at lost light in others. They’re smooth and hard, like a snake’s skin, an armor made of tiny purple plates that range from almost black to lightest lavender.
“Gorgeous,” I whisper.
Graham’s large hand wraps around my wrist like he intends to push me away, stop me from touching him.
I shouldn’t touch him. Not my right. He’s someone I owe, not someone Iown.
“Dragon keeps the princess, not the other way around,” I whisper, fingers slowly curling into my palm. “I won’t touch you again. I’m sorry. I was rude. I just... you’re real. And so...”
“Fierce? Frightening?”
“Insanely beautiful.” I let my fingers out of their prison as he drops my wrist, one of his eyebrows arching. “You could be frightening, too, I know.”
“Wait until you see me in my true form. The full dragon,” his snarl is still there, but softer.
“O-okay. That’s okay with me. I’m not scared,” I whisper—although that’s not totally true. I’m scared that this is happening. Scared that I believe my eyes.
Scared that I’m not only okay with how he looks, but that I like it way too much.
***
IT DOESN’T HELP THATAngela’s only wearing a towel. It doesn’t help that every time her arms move, the towel shimmies a little lower, revealing more of the deep natural tan of her skin, deepening the line of her cleavage. Doesn’t help that in this form, my senses are heightened, and I can smell that windswept, about-to-rain smell that reminds me of soaring through low-hovering clouds—and the sensual smell of her arousal under it. Just the faintest hint, but it grows when my tail moves closer to her bare ankle, the tip flicking along the curve of her calf like the thing has a mind of its own. She gasps, pupils expanding and nostrils flaring in surprise for a split second before she bites down on her lower lip.
The noise she makes is almost inaudible, but I can hear it.
“I can hear every little noise you make like this. And this hide is like armor. These wings,” I flap them wide and she tries to withdraw from my grasp, startled, her towel barely clinging to her damp body now, “could carry you high, where enemies would never reach you. Dragons have been soldiers. Mercenaries. Protectors and ravagers.”
My nostrils quiver, and my tail coils around her leg like ivy on a castle wall.
“Did you ever kidnap a princess and keep her in a tower?” she whispers, her lips glossed by her tongue.
I hold onto her so tight because my senses are reeling. I’m dizzy with wanting her, and I don’t know if I should fight the urges or beg her to share them with me.
