Chapter 3

Nora screamed.

She hadn't meant to. She clapped her hands over her mouth, even as she pressed her back against the cave wall, as far away from that… that creature as she could manage.

It blinked back at her with wide, curious eyes. Eyes that were far too wide. It was unlike anything Nora had ever seen before. Unlike anything she'd read about.

Its body was like a cat, but malformed, with large ears that twitched as it examined her, and horns that curved backward. Its legs were muscled with patchy fur like a goat"s until its feet tapered off into chicken claws. Similarly, short, uneven chicken wings came from the side, the features an utter mess.

And it glowed. A pale burnt orange shone directly from its skin.

It was as tall as her chest when it sat on its haunches. The creature tilted its head in question, still blinking, as if to ask, Who are you?

Nora didn't move from her spot, still cursing herself for screaming.

Stupid Nora, now you've woken the beast. The dragon will decide to eat you if this creature doesn't kill you first, before you even had a chance to find one of its scales!

Because that, she'd deciphered, was what Mad Bess had meant. Not the bride part—that was nonsense, since she could hardly wed a dragon. In the trove, the dragon would shed its scales, and only those scales would be strong enough to pierce its armored chest.

Not that it mattered. The creature lifted from its haunches and stepped toward her, sniffing loudly.

She was frozen in her spot, unable to flee.

Closer it came, its eyes focused, like those of a predator. It looked the same way her old barn cat had when the lazy thing finally spotted a lame mouse.

She very nearly screamed again when a voice said, "So, you've met Morthil."

Nora spun, taking her gaze away from the creature to face the voice against her better instincts.

And then she shrieked again.

In front of her was a man.

A man… and that was all. He stood in all his glory, the lights on the wall of the cave illuminating every perfectly carved inch of him. And between his legs…

She knew the way animals mated. Logically, she knew if she went for a roll in the hay—or marital bed—it would bear some similarities.

But… that.

That would not fit.

Just the thought made her feel faint. And worse, she felt some stirring that was wholly inappropriate for a young maiden to feel after being sacrificed to a dragon.

Her gaze slammed upward.

He was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. His beauty was otherworldly. Dark locks fell to his shoulder, glistening like glass. His face was fitted in panes, a sharp jaw, deep cheeks, an angular neck.

But the eyes… the eyes were not human. They were gray, slit like a reptile.

Just as the dragon's had been.

Now, he cocked his head, pressing a palm to one ear. Even in this shape, his black claws remained, the nails the same color as they'd been on the dragon and shaped like talons. "Must you scream? I thought something might be wrong."

"You're… you're…"

"Alistair Obsidian-Claw," he replied with a dramatic bow, before lifting his head in a cheeky grin. His voice was smooth as unbroken water, rinsing over her like a calming balm.

"You're the dragon!"

"The dragon," he pondered. "Well, I am a dragon. The dragon that now owns you."

His lips tipped up in a way that sent shivers down Nora's spine, his words laced with a possessiveness that scared her. She tried to back farther away, but she only hit the hard stone of the cave.

With her attention fixed on the man—dragon—Alistair, she had lost sight of the godforsaken creature and jolted when it pressed against her.

But instead of opening its maw and eating her, the creature just stayed there, leaning into her.

"He's taken a liking to you," Alistair said, as if it was a good thing.

Nora lifted her hands, trying to keep far away from Morthil, who seemed determined to maintain contact with her. "What is he?"

"Morthil's rather lonely, especially as you refuse to pet him." The dejected tone was so overdone it barely covered Alistair's obvious amusement.

"Must you twist my words?" Nora snapped.

Then she shrank farther against the wall. What was she doing, speaking back to a dragon? Did she want to die?

No. She wanted to kill the beast and return to her town a hero, finally welcomed as a full member of society.

But she didn't want to do that with her tail between her legs.

Alistair laughed. The sound was almost rusty, like his jaw was unused to moving in such a way. "There is much I take pleasure in, female, that I do not have to do. I'm not one to deny myself."

Morthil made a sound at her feet, drawing her attention.

Finally, in desperation, she lowered a hand and pet the top of the swallump's head. It was not so different from the barn cat she'd grown up with. Aside from the fact it was ten times the size.

The creature made a sound that, if she was half-deaf, could have been construed as a purr.

"There. Fast friends, my pets are."

Her head swung once more to the dragon. He had come closer, on silent feet, and now stood a few feet away.

The good news was the organ between his legs was out of view.

The bad news was, there was no escaping those reptilian eyes. Nora suspected they must be magic, because once they captured her, she could not look away.

"I am not your pet."

"You are mine." There was an edge to the smooth words, a blade that dared her to argue. "Your own people gave you away. Be angry with them, not me."

She had been angry with them. But it was hard to be angry with the only family, the only community she had ever known. It was desperation that made them trade her off, she decided. She would win them back once the dragon was defeated, and they were safe.

But Alistair, who dared look at her like she belonged to him? Like he owned her, from her body to the very thoughts she wrapped around her soul?

Oh, him she could be angry with.

Him, she could hate.