Ugh, she’s probably some butch commando type—Carmen on steroids, with an ugly face, a short buzz cut, wearing jack boots, and manly muscles bulging from her square frame.
“So... this Proving,” I say, curious now. “Do you thinkIcould do it?”
“No.” Dracoth’s answer is immediate, flat, stinging like a slap across the face.
“There’s no need to sugarcoat it,” I reply, my tone dripping with sarcasm. Still, his shitty opinion of me smarts like shampoo in the eye. “Why not? I mean, if she could do it, there must be a way, right?”
Dracoth falls silent, stomping through the lighter foliaged areas, avoiding the denser frozen shrubs and bushes, his gaze constantly surveying the surrounding area.
“To survive the wilds from Draxru village to Sunaisor challenges even the trained youth of my kind. And she achieved this while hunted by Magaxus Prospects.”
“No way!” I blurt out, grimacing. “With guys like you chasing her through this?” I gesture around his back to the glittering frost-covered trees, and the distant howling predators. “There’s no way—she must have cheated.”
“There is none like me,” Dracoth rumbles, the sound vibrating through me. “I am Arawnoth’s chosen, the greatest of my kind.” His head lifts with pride, his massive form warming with self-assurance.
Touchy!
Still, a ripple of admiration floods through me as I clutch him tighter. I do enjoy a man with ambition, and he’s right—we are special. Arawnoth blesses us. His mark pulses on my chest, fueling my heart with life.
“You are special, Dracoth.” I strain to whisper close to his long-pointed ear. “Together, we’ll rise to the top.” I smirk, joy blossoming within me.
Dracoth peers over his shoulder, a fierce gleam in his flashing crimson eyes. “Good, Princesa, you embrace your nature,” he says, with a super rare, almost imperceptible smile curling his lip.
“My name’s Lexie,” I remind him absently for the hundredth time, feeling the joy of our shared ambition swell inside me. Yeah, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde... well, without the whole tragedy part.
Then it hits me. “Iknow!” I exclaim, excitement bubbling over. “She must have used her bond power to beat the Proving! Like the ones we have?” I slap my hand against his armored back. “Yeah, it makes sense. How else could she have survived?”
Dracoth grunts. “Possible,” though he doesn’t sound entirely convinced.
Undeterred, I press on. “If I can learn to use my power, then I could do the Proving—or anything else.” Not to mention I wouldn’t be just a useless, albeit sexy, fashion accessory for him anymore.
Easier said than done, though.
When my powers worked, I almost froze to death, or the other time I was screaming obscenities at Dracoth.
Maybe…
“Ahem,” I clear my throat. “I hate you, Dracoth... you... bastard!” My voice echoes, but it sounds hollow, the mild winds carrying it away, scattering it among the glittering ice crystals falling from the towering trees.
“More human female madness?” Dracoth asks sternly, his claws cutting through thick, frozen brush barring our path.
“No,” I frown, choosing to ignore his rude prick-ness, feeling through our bond the fires somehow dimmed, lacking the raw intensity from the last time I managed to channel my powers.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I was trying to awaken our powers.”
Dracoth doesn’t answer immediately, his focus on the trail ahead. “Wait,” I ask, curiosity creeping in, “what were you doing the first time? Just before you found me?”
His gaze sweeps the skyline, no rush to answer, as if savoring the memory. “Sneachir—we battled deep beneath the permafrost,” he says, a hint of pride lacing his voice.
Sneachir? What the hell is that?
Knowing him, it’s probably Godzilla’s big brother. Although his answer makes sense, maybe confirming my suspicions.
“And when you fought this... Sneachir, did you almost die?” I ask, excitement bubbling up.
“No,” Dracoth grunts, the vibrations traveling through me. “None can match me,” he snarls, his voice full of unshakable certainty.
“Really?” I shoot back, unable to resist. “I remember you looking like a bruised red apple not too long ago.” He doesn’t respond, and a pang of disappointment flickers inside me. So much for my theory.
