Page 23 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince
I cannot even trust my fear.
Still, as my stomach growls again and my throat complains of thirst, I’m reminded that I’m alive, and the sensation runs down my spine, pulling forth a smile for my lips.
Part of this feels like freedom.
The sensation is laced with guilt—shouldn’t Iwantto return home? Isn’t that what home is? Scorpia was so convinced I should return home she poisoned the clan.
How fast everything changed… Is the clan safe? I think I was the only one swept away, taken by Drakon…
Where is he?
He’s left me alone in this cavern, and I don’t think it’s possible to descend without help.
Except my longing for him is larger than that. I need him to explain what happened because I can’t quite parse out the details. What could have happened before that was so terrible Scorpia would refuse my help, enforcing her objectives by poisoning the clan?
Overlooking the canyon, a glint of red draws my attention. While I’ve been waiting, Drakon has hidden in plain sight, still in shadow. I know it’s him because I’ll never forget his imposing dragon form.
His strong neck lashes out, snapping as he claims a waterfowl in his jaw. He shakes, breaking the bird’s spine, and it goes limp. He carries it loosely in his maw, rising to meet me.
I’m awed as he nears. The brilliant red of his scales is shocking against the darker red of his webbed wings and his golden lines. The sight of him no longer makes my heart race in fear—now it pounds in excitement.
He is majestic.
The dragon lands, dropping the waterfowl and shifting to fae form as his talons scratch the earth. I quiver at the sudden return of his manly body, my gaze drawn to his defined chest.
“You must be hungry,” he says, walking into the cavern, dragging the bird by its neck.
My throat is too dry, and I’m too awed to reply, watching as he focuses on the task at hand, first digging through the storage containers and then defeathering the bird.
I watch his hands—how his scales sparkle as he does this simple task. My mind wanders to our embrace, wondering where his hands might explore, wishing my lips had found his.
We’re together now. Isolated from the clan.
My knees wobble, and finally, I’m afraid of these heights—how far might I fall for him? I’m not prepared for the trenches of attraction.
As the years passed and my barrenness became increasingly apparent, my former husband’s touch became rough. But watching Drakon handle our dinner, I’m certain his caresses would be kind. He has sustenance, and I’m ravenous.
Food is a simple gesture that drives to my heart. My brother never fed me without complaining that I was an extra mouth,even when I prepared the meal myself. Drakon wears a soft smile as he provides for me.
“Can I help?” I ask. “I can manage a knife. Or maybe start a fire?”
“Rest,” he orders. “There will be no need for fire.”
I hesitate—I’ve grown tired of resting. The effects of the poison have ebbed.
Seeing this, he nods, indicating a heavy black pot. “Can you empty a waterskin into it? I’m preparing stew.”
The cave transforms into our kitchen. While he instructs, I obey, and we fall into a quiet rhythm. There are root vegetables and the potato-like tuber. I chop them up while he finishes preparing the bird.
I’m tempted to break our silence, to settle the storm of questions within me, but this mundane focus is calming, bracing me for the conversation that is to come.
I still don’t see a source of heat. “How are we planning to cook it without fire? We can’t… eat raw meat.” I gasp. “Or can we?”
“As dragons, we can digest raw food, but those bodies are far more ravenous.” He doesn’t quench my curiosity. “That pot is a fae good. It will heat the food.”
I examine the pot with new intrigue, finding it cold. “How do I turn it on?”
“I’ll show you,” Drakon replies.
