Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Oh no.
He was even more magnificent than Korin.
And far more terrifying.
But it wasn't just his eyes or his size that Sol noticed. Between his hind legs exposed an enormous dragon love sword. Thick as a temple column and much longer than she was tall, it jutted from his body with obvious, angry arousal. The shaft was ridged with scales that shifted from black to silver, and the massive, mushroomed head glistened with silver drops of liquid that dripped to the ground in front of him.
Korin spotted his brother’s love sword too, and a loud laugh rumbled from him. "You may question whether she is a witch, brother, but your body clearly knows she is your mate."
Pyrran's growl shook the cavern walls. His silver eyes blazed with fury—at her, at himself, at the undeniable evidence of his own desire. But even as he snarled, more of that silver essence leaked from his love sword’s bulbous tip. "Silence."
"Your cock speaks louder than your doubt." Korin's voice carried that infuriating amusement. "Look at your cock dripping for her like a hatchling in his first rut. When was the last time you were this hard, brother? A century? Two?"
Pyrran roared.
Sol shivered.
Korin laughed even more.
"Come." Pyrran remained at the edge of the lake. "If you are truly what my brother claims. . .then you will meet me. You will let me see you. Smell you. Know you."
Sol couldn't move.
Her legs had turned to stone. Her heart hammered so violently she could taste copper on her tongue. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to run, to hide, to flee back through that doorway and never return.
But Korin's hand pressed gently against her back. "Go to him. He needs this. We both do."
"I can't—"
"You can. You are a dragon, little one. You are stronger than you know."
Sol took one step.
Then another.
The rock was warm beneath her bare feet. Gold coins crunched softly with each step. Steam curled around her ankles as she approached the water's edge, where Pyrran waited with those terrible silver eyes.
She stopped three feet away from him.
His head lowered, bringing his face close to hers. Close enough that she could see every scale. Every scar. Every ancient line carved into his obsidian hide.
He inhaled.
Sol trembled as his breath washed over her—cold somehow, despite the heat of this place. It pulled at her hair, her skin, her very soul. The force of it tugged at her nipples, hardening them to aching peaks. It slid between her thighs like ghostly fingers, and she felt herself clench around nothing, desperate, empty, and wanting.
She was dripping wet between her thighs.
She could feel it now—the slick heat gathering at her core, her body preparing itself for something her mind still rejected.
The evidence of her arousal would be obvious to him. Surely dragons could smell everything. He would smell how much she wanted him. How much she wanted both of them.
Why is this happening to me?
Pyrran's growl deepened to something almost pained. His massive love sword twitched. This time a stream of silver spilled from the tip to pool on the ground beneath him.
And beneath the terror, beneath the ice of his breath and the weight of his doubt, Sol felt his heated desire.
An erotic pull.
A tempting recognition.
Her body—still warm, still aching from whatever strange fire Korin had awakened—leaned toward Pyrran too even as her mind screamed to flee.
Another dark groan left the dragon. And then something flickered in those silver eyes.
Recognition.
Hunger.
Need.
"Brother," Pyrran breathed. "She. . .smells like a dragon."
"Yes, brother. I know."
"But how could her egg have survived?"
"Does it matter?" Korin remained further behind them as if trying to give his brother and Sol space to connect. "She is here. She is ours. After all these centuries of believing we were the last. . .we have found our mate."
Pyrran's massive form shuddered.
For one breathless moment, Sol thought he might transform—might shed his scales and become a man as Korin had done. She saw the hunger in his eyes, the desperate, starving need of a creature who had waited lifetimes for something he had believed impossible.
But then his expression shifted.
Hardened.
Turned cold.
"I do not want to put my hopes in this." Those words cracked through the cavern like a whip.
Korin’s voice lowered. "Brother—"
"I do not want to be fooled." Pyrran's voice had turned to ice. "I will not fall for another witch's trick. Korin, I will not lose you to their deceptions as we lost so many others."
"She is a dragon—"
"Then let her prove it!"
Before Sol could react, Pyrran moved.
Fast.
Blurring toward her.
His jaws opened wide—revealing fangs like ivory towers, a throat that glowed faintly with silver fire—and then he had her.
"Ahhh!!!" Sol screamed as Pyrran's mouth grabbed her and those sharp teeth closed around her body.
The pressure was immediate and overwhelming—not piercing, but caging. His fangs pressed against her ribs, her hips, the soft flesh of her thighs. Each tooth was longer than her forearm, smooth as polished bone, and warm from the heat of his mouth.