3. Drago

With a deep steadying breath that's barely contained, I carry her down the hall, calming myself and my dragon.

I have her.

I have her to myself.

That's all that matters.

She's still in my grasp, but I'm all too aware she's on edge and filled with contempt.

It's a difficult task to open the door to my bedchamber with my little treasure in my arms. The moment I loosen my grip she struggles against me and kicks hard against my thigh. My hackles raise as I resist every urge inside me. Her kicks don't hurt me. There's no way she could ever harm me, but she does shove her weight against me enough to slip out of my grasp. Her small, frail body lands hard on the floor. A small whimper escapes her as her shoulder slams against the marble. Her face reflects the pain as she winces and sucks in air through her clenched teeth.

I despise that she's trying to get away from me, but even more that she's hurt herself in the process. Her palms press against the hard floor as she tries to rise. I quickly snatch her small waist and hold her to me as I unlock the door and throw it open. She barely fights against me as I close the door and lock it, a habit I've had since we were younger. She writhes against me, and as much as I hate it, the fact that she's mine, in my chambers, eases any doubt. I will have her. She will have me. It's only a matter of time.

In the silence, she fights, but it's useless. I don't have to tell her so; all I have to do is wait a moment. She appears defeated as she cries in my arms. My dragon hates her pain. He claws inside me with a need to comfort her. I do my best to soothe them both, holding her tightly to me so she cannot fight before quickly laying her down on my bed. She scrambles slightly, eyeing me and then stiffening in a defensive position. The bed groans in protest as I sit next to her, but she scurries to the other side as quickly as she can.

Adrenaline races through me, and again I have to contain myself.

The bedroom is dark with the blood-red, velvet curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows. The windows are large enough that my dragon could break free of this room if need be. With the curtains closed, it's too dark to make out much of the room. I rise from the bed and let a flame blow up my throat and out to light the embers on a shallow, stone shelf that travels along the length of the room. The flames grow in both directions as they slowly bathe the room in soft light. The flames are only a foot or so tall, but the intimidating effect is undeniable.

Given the gasp that comes from behind me, she's never seen anything like what I've just done. My lips pull in an asymmetric smile, but I resist sharing that with her.

I center and contain myself before turning to face her.

The antique carvings in the stone walls of my family's crest are the first detail to come forward. The shadows and flames give the symbol of my heritage the pride it deserves. It's been ages since I've lit the room, and the sight of the emblem makes me wish I hadn't grown complacent with the dark. My large bed is draped with fine, gray silk fabrics, offering a canopy of shelter. The sheets and blankets themselves are a mix of grays and blacks woven together by the best seamstresses with the softest of materials. Several large pillows sit tall at the back of the bed. Although I've never thought much of it before, it's a sight of masculinity and wealth and my only comfort apart from my brothers.

As the fire lights the antique furniture in the room, I focus on the small, brave woman at the head of my bed. Her lips are parted in awe as she watches the walls slowly light. Her cheeks are tear stained and her chest is flushed from her struggle. I take the moment to look at her shoulder. The wound isn't as deep as I thought. She will need to be bathed, but the cut should heal well with a little touch of heat. I won't need to call a healer. More concerning than the gash is the lack of fat on her body. The scant linen dress she wears is slashed from the whip, and her ribs and spine are easily made out. Anger threatens to consume me, and I resist once more, barely able to contain my dragon.

I will bathe her first and then she will eat. Everything else will be taken care of with time. Carefully and quickly, I round the bed and as I do, the fire cracks, stealing her attention and allowing me to get to her.

I wrap my hands around her waist, taking her attention from the fire and startling her.

"Let go of me!" She turns violently in my grasp and pushes away from me. Her efforts are futile. I ignore the agony her rejection causes. She knows not what she does. She knows nothing at all.

"Hush; there's no need to yell at me. I have no intention to harm you." With a trembling lip, she stops fighting and sticks her chin out. As if I cannot smell her fear. As if she could possibly control me. As if she has any authority whatsoever. She makes her demand. "Then let me go."

I have to repress my chuckle at her defiant command. I do not take orders from anyone. She won't be any exception.

"I'd rather not." A quick sob erupts from her lips and her fists clench in response. She turns her face away from me as I lift her and take her to the bath. "I'd just like to keep you company until you are well."

Even with the fear evident, she holds onto her anger, taking me by surprise.

"So I can be your whore." Her words are hard and drip with disgust. Her small body is shaking with fear even though her voice is strong.

My blood heats with a touch of fear. I want desperately to breed with her, but I have no desire to make her feel as though she's merely a toy to be used for my amusement. I hesitate, taking in this beautiful, defiant, yet beaten down woman, debating the best response. One that will let her know I'm attracted to her, that she would be my mate not a whore. But without her consent or desire to be with me, I struggle to find the correct words. I've never had a woman deny me, but this situation is a delicate matter.

"I do not want you to be a whore. Not for me or anyone else here." Doubt is etched into her beautiful eyes. But also, a hint of hope.

"You will come with me," I tell her firmly as I snatch her up again, holding her closely so she cannot fight. This time, she doesn't try to push me away.

I gently place her on the wooden bench and turn the tap to fill the bath. I kneel next to her, and I place my hand under the flowing hot water, reveling in the feel. I look at her pale, thin skin and wonder if the water would be too hot. I've never cared for another, let alone a human. I take her small hand in mine and grip it tightly as she tries to pull away. I give her a stern look, but her insolence is all I get in return.

"I'd like to know how the heat suits you."

She pulls her hand from mine and stares into my eyes, warring with me, daring me to fight her. I only have to wait. After a moment, she slowly turns to the running water and lets it flow down her fingers. Her eyes close and a small sigh of wanting leaves her lips. My dragon purrs in my chest, loving the bit of happiness we've given her. "Is it to your liking?"

My lowly spoken question shatters the image of her content. She rips her hand away while nodding. Silence fills the room as she stares at the bottom of the large, soak-in tub, watching it fill. I truly despise the fact that she isn't giving me the respect she should be. She's obviously unwell and has been through hell with Victor. Rage boils inside of me just thinking his name. I'll rip his throat out the next time I see him. If I hadn't been so consumed with her, I would have ended his life before Galen had a chance to tell him to leave.

I'll let her anger at me pass with a warning and keep my tone soft and gentle. My intent is to charm her, to lure her in, but I can't set a precedence of her treating me disrespectfully. As she refuses to even spare me a glance, with the water filling the basin and steaming, I'm ever conscious of her state of mind. It's a difficult line to toe. "I expect you to look at me when I ask you a question." I do my best to speak calmly and not allow my anger or disappointment to show through.

Her eyes fly to mine but her lips remain closed. I wait a moment for her to acknowledge my words, but she fails to do so. "Do you understand?" She nods slightly, maintaining eye contact, but she doesn't give a verbal response. I don't care for that either. A fire rumbles in my chest. "I'd like you to answer me as well." Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare. "You may call me Drago."

She focuses her attention back to the tub making my anger flare. I repress it once again. "What name do you go by?"

"Kara." She whispers her name and puts her small hand into the bath, getting to her knees so her fingertips can glide along the surface of the water. The sight of her bent over hardens my dick. I push down my groan. She swallows and looks back at me over her shoulder. Her anger seems to dissipate. Good. I can't take much more of her resentment.

Kara. What a fitting, beautiful name for her. I love it. I love the way it rolls off my tongue. The sweetness of its whisper, yet strong in its demand.

"I'd like you to tell me about yourself, Kara." Her eyes look longingly into the bath and then back at me, no doubt wondering if I'll be here as she washes herself. And I will be. She threatened to kill herself only moments ago. There's no way I'm leaving her alone. Not only that, the cut along her back needs to be washed properly. I stand, opening the cabinet for appropriate oils, waiting for her to speak. Violet will help the pain. I grab the oil for the bath and continue talking to her. To Kara. My blood heats and my dragon stirs. I must be ever so careful with her.

As I shut the cabinet, our gazes lock. There's a crack in the tension. Does she feel it too?

She murmurs, still on her knees beside the tub. "What do you want to know?"

"Take your dress off." Her body stiffens at my request. I narrow my eyes at her. "I need to take care of your wound."

She stares back with trepidation. "You don't. I can take care of myself."

"We have a little dilemma, Kara." Her heart pounds in her chest so loudly I can hear every beat even though she tries to appear calm and strong. "I've decided I'd like to keep you for a while." Her face hardens with anger. "I'd just like to get to know you and care for you while you recover from everything you've been through."

She smirks at me and tilts her head. "I highly doubt that." I can smell her fear, but she stares daggers at me with courage. I fucking love it. I love her courage. But I need her to give me this. I can't have her hating me when I've done nothing to her.

"You can doubt it all you like, but that's not the dilemma. My brothers will be curious and I'd rather they not be involved with our relationship." I reach down and snatch the bit of fabric that's frayed and rip it off her body. It tears far too easily, jostling her as she fights to hold onto it. She's unsuccessful, and she gasps and quickly tries to cover herself. That's fine, for now. I turn sideways as a compromise. "In the water, Kara."

"Fuck you!" she practically hisses.

"You don't have to fight me on everything." I keep my eyes on the wall even though I badly need to gaze upon her body. I need to know exactly what state she's in. She's malnourished, but I'm hopeful there is nothing I cannot tend to. A long moment of silence passes, and I can just barely make out her movements in my periphery. When I see her lift her leg to sink into the tub, a heavy breath I didn't even know I was holding leaves me. The sound of her sinking into the tub tempts me to turn, but I resist until she's settled. Thank fuck. I don't know what I would've done if she didn't drop her resistance. I hear her hiss as the water hits the wound. The sound of her pain makes my heart clench and I lean down and let a few drops of oil drip into the tub before turning off the water.

"This will help with the pain." I dip the sponge into the bath and gently wipe the grime off her stiff shoulders. Her arms are crossed over her knees that are pulled up to her chest. "Does this feel all right?" I'm only grateful her fight has waned.

It takes her far too long to answer, her breathing is labored, and a small fear takes over my body, stopping my movements. "It's not making the pain worse, is it?"

She shakes her head. "No."

"Does it feel any better?" With her eyes closed, she slowly nods her head and whispers, "Yes."

Turmoil consumes me as I continue washing her back. My heart breaks for her. My poor, little treasure.

She needs time to adjust. I don't have time though. If my brothers find her… A thought hits me that chills my bones. I'd kill them for her. If they tried to take her from me, I'd fight to the death for her. The absolution in my thought is sobering.

The possession I feel for her is crazed. This intense desire to protect her, to have her, to kill for her affections. With the heady realization, I place the sponge in her hand and look away. I cannot allow these thoughts to be so consuming. It's far too dangerous. My tone is colder, "Wash yourself. Your back is clean."

The calming sounds of water soothe the bothered bits of my mind. As I stare ahead at the wall, centering myself once again and ignoring the pacing of my dragon, I focus on logical thought.

"As I was saying," I start and she pauses her ministrations for only a moment and then I continue, "my brothers will be curious about our relationship."

"We don't have a relationship."

"Not yet we don't. But we may, if we find that we suit one another."

"Suit one another for what kind of relationship?" She speaks her truth in a deadened tone. "A prisoner and her warden? Or worse?" I don't care for her response. But I also don't miss how it's validated by the events leading up to this point.

"You are not well. You're thin and obviously mistreated." I'm a fucking liar for saying this, but it's partly true. "I only wish to heal you."

"I don't understand why you'd want to keep that from your brothers." Her wit was not expected.

"Not just my brothers…" I grasp at anything to offer her a reason. "I don't desire to appear weak."

"You think it's weak to help others?" With her staring at me, waiting for an answer, I turn to face her, eye to eye.

"I think it can be perceived as weak and often taken as a vulnerability. But no, it is not weak to help others." She seems to accept my response. Her features soften and I can practically see her walls crumble. Good. That will help soften the blow. "Instead, I'm going to tell them you're my pet."

"Fuck you." She spits the words at me and backs away from me, splashing water with the violent movement. She pulls her arms out of the water to shield herself. It's as if she expects me to be aggressive. I'm reminded how little she knows.

"It's not as bad as it seems;Galen used the term some time ago. That's the only reason I call it that."

"It means I'd be your whore! I'd rather you beat me."

"It doesn't mean that at all. It means that you will obey me in front of them and I will reward you. I'll give you anything and everything you could possibly want. All I need is for you to do as I say."

"All I want is my freedom."

"I"m not letting you go." The response leaves me with the possessiveness I cannot control or hide.

"Then I"ll simply starve myself." Her answer only angers me. Fuck her insolence. She will learn to obey me.

"You will not!If we are incompatible, then I will let you leave." I hate myself for giving her an out. And I'm not yet sure if I'll let her go when the time comes. But if she doesn't heat for me and she doesn't want me, then there's no reason to force her to stay here. With reluctance I add, "You have my word."

"You'll let me leave if I want to?"

"After you've regained your health, I will." I push down the fear of her leaving me. "If you don't want to stay, you're welcome to leave."

She seems to relax slightly as she registers my words. Enough at least to return to her bath.

I look away and grab a heated towel to wrap her in once she's finished. My heart is racing, and my dragon is pacing with the thought of her leaving. But I have time. I have plenty of time to let her adjust to the idea of being my mate. I'll make sure she's happy. I'll give her everything I have if she's able to give me dragonlings. I take in a deep breath and scent the air. Her heat is still prominent. She grabs the towel from my hand and the movement distracts me from my thoughts. She rises and covers herself, wrapping the towel and fastening it around her.

"Your brothers won't hurt me?" she questions.

"No. Never."

Thoughts riddle through her eyes. "Speak," I demand.

She crosses and uncrosses her arms. "What do you mean exactly by me being your pet?"

My dick hardens at the idea. It only occurred to me as a means to cover up the fact that she's a potential mate, but now I picture her, on her knees with those wide eyes on mine, wanting me to command her.

I'll be patient.

I'll earn her trust.

I'll earn her affection.

She will desire me. She will heat for me. She will be my mate.