My stomach flips as his entire frame stiffens, muscles rippling with fury. His fangs gleam in the dim light, bared in a snarl.
“Here,” he growls, sweeping his arm over the scorched battlefield. “Here he dared to shame me!” His roar echoes, shaking the ground beneath us. “Dared to name me a defeated warrior—as if he had earned the right!”
His entire body trembles, the strange red mist wafting from his eyes like smoke from an erupting volcano. My stomach twists with a flicker of fear at the sight of his unbridled rage, so close, so overwhelming. But then I remind myself: he’d never hurt me. We’re partners, destined to rise together.
“It was here he cut the hair from my head,” Dracoth growls, the words like molten iron. His hand brushes through his short crimson hair, his expression contorted with disgust. “ME!An undefeated warrior without equal, forced to wear this unearned shame for decades!”
His rage roars through our bond like a blazing inferno. The raw hatred etched into his sneering, trembling face pulls at something primal in me. Strangely, my own breaths quicken,fists clenching as his fury spreads into my chest. A piece of his wrath at this so-called High Chieftain Krogoth now lives inside me. Him and this woman, Rocks. Whoever she is, the bitch will pay. They’ll all pay for what they’ve done to my Dracoth, my red dragon.
Gently, I reach out and stroke his face, my fingers trailing over skin rough as rock. “We’ll make them pay... I promise.”
His blazing eyes snap to mine, and the rage there softens, just slightly. “We’ll make them all pay for hurting us,” I add, my voice trembling with raw emotion from years of neglect, betrayal, and abuse crashing over me.
“Yes,” he rumbles, his eyes blazing like twin fires. The intensity of his gaze, the feeling of our destinies entwined, sends my heart soaring like the dark purple clouds above us. I’ve never had anyone truly on my side before—not my negligent parents, not my backstabbing bitch friends. Only Dracoth. And I’ll never push him away again. He’s mine. Together, we’re unstoppable.
The ultimate power couple.
“Yes!” Dracoth snarls, his fury now laced with something brighter—triumphant joy. “With you at my side, I’ll crush Krogoth and anyone who dares to stand in our way!” He beats a fist against his broad chest, his gaze growing distant, as if seeing the future—our future. “They’ll burn in Arawnoth’s flames. All will know that I am the rightful War Chieftain—thatweare ordained by the Gods to rule.”
“Dracoth...” My voice is barely a whisper, my heart brimming with emotion. His words are a perfect echo of my own thoughts.
His lips crash against mine, hungrily devouring me like a beast, and I’m his super adorable prey. Dracoth’s heat pours into me, his mouth hot and demanding, his tongue claiming mine with the same unstoppable force that defines him.
A groan escapes me as I melt into his embrace, tingles rushing through my body, setting every nerve alight.
But the moment shatters with a sharp bark from above.
We break apart, panting, our heads snapping upward. High in the canopy, that strange bird-dog creature from earlier circles, its annoying yelps echoing through the trees. It’s like the universe’s most obnoxious chaperone.
“Ugh. What does it want this time?” I mutter, frowning as the strange bird-dog creature barks overhead.
Dracoth’s gaze remains fixated above. “Come. The Gods grow impatient.”
Not like I have a choice.
Dracoth strides forward, carrying me deeper into the dense forest. To my amazement, the massive flying creature stays ahead of us, swooping through the trees as if leading the way.
“That’s so random,” I mutter under my breath, unable to take my eyes off the fuzzy, feathered monster. Its movements are surprisingly graceful for something so bizarre and big.
I reach up to tussle Dracoth’s short crimson locks, giggling as the silky strands slip between my fingers.
“You know, Dracoth, I actually like your short hair,” I say. “It suits you. I just assumed it was your style. All these other guys look like retired Hell’s Angels or something.”
Dracoth trudges on, his massive claws slicing cleanly through the occasional thick patch of foliage. “Hell’s Angels?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.
I sigh with impatience. “There a...” I stop myself from sayingbiker gang. Chances are, the hole-in-the-ground clan doesn’t even know what abikeis. “A gang of tough guys.”
“Junkers,” Dracoth growls, spitting the word like black, unsweetened coffee, his claw sweeps becoming more aggressive.
“Yeah, something like that... I think,” I say hesitantly, wondering if he means those creepy, scavenger aliens that attacked our ship.
“One day, my hair will be as long as my father’s,” he says after a pause, his intense eyes meeting mine. “Hair my Mortakin-Kis can be proud of.” He nods, as if sealing a solemn vow.
Sweet words, but I don’t care about hair... well, except my own.
I suppress a giggle at the silliness of Klendathian customs. “That’s all very nice, Dracoth, with the hair and all. But what’ll really make me proud is when you get us to the top.” My voice sharpens, challenging him as I fix him with a stern look. “That’s what matters.”
As his wife, it’s up to me to keep him strong, remind him of his obligations. You know what they say: behind every great man, there’s a greater woman.
