Her Dragon Captor (Her Dragon King Duet Book 1): 50 Loving States, North Dakota Pt. 1

by Theodora Taylor

  “What?” I’d asked, the smile falling off my face.

  “It’s just that I never saw you smile, much less laugh,” he’d answered, his tone full of awe. “Even music before the unfortunate entry of Mozart does not sound so beautiful.”

  I’d laugh more times than I would have expected since then.

  But it was a trick, I remind myself brutally. I’ve been tricking him, and he’s been tricking me.

  If we give in to this delusion, the only way our story ends is with everyone we love dead, I tell my wolf, as I reach out to take the sealed bag of popcorn from Damianos.

  “Okay, the secret to microwave popcorn is adding more butter and salt when it’s done.” I open the pack and hand it back to Damianos without the outer wrapper. “Here, put this in the oven for a minute and forty seconds and I’ll show you how I get it tasting just like the real thing after that.”

  The bag really only needs to go in for 90 seconds, but that’s just three presses of the microwave’s 30-second button. Not enough time for what I needed to pull off, while his back was turned.

  Just as I expected, the small electrical oven with all its options stymies him. After several seconds of searching, he says, “I cannot find any numbers to key in…”

  “The keypad’s inside the door. You have to open it to get to it.”

  I glance at the butcher block Damianos left on the counter 3 weeks ago …only to find the slot for the chef’s knife empty. Guess Kirk literally took that one with him to his grave, so the much thinner slicing knife will have to do. Quietly slipping it out, I flood our mate bond with good cheer and yummy popcorn anticipation, as I say, “Sorry, I should have told you that.”

  “There is no need to apologize, Reverence,” he answers, opening the door. “It is I who should apologize to you for never having properly learned these things so that I might revere you more readily.”

  God, I wish he hadn’t called me that…or apologized. It feels like a punch in a gut, one so painful, I can’t hold on to my fake cheer.

  His shoulders stiffen.

  “What is wrong…” he begins to ask, turning back around.

  But he never finishes that sentence because I plunge the knife straight into his neck.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I run. And run. And run some more.

  But it’s not far enough to get the last picture of Damianos out of my head. Collapsed on the floor and choking on the knife embedded in his neck.

  There had been blood. So much blood. And I could feel everything he felt over the mate bond: blinding pain, and even more rage.

  It was hard to discern whether I was sticking to the plan when I turned and ran out the kitchen door or if I was trying to get away from all that pain and rage.

  But I ran, and I didn’t stop running until I could no longer feel him.

  Did that mean he was dead?

  My wolf whimpers inconsolably inside of me at the thought. Even though she should understand what I did was necessary. No matter what he’d said about revering me forever, the fact remained that he had me collared and was keeping me prisoner.

  It was the only way, I tell my inconsolable wolf, the only way we could be free—wait a minute, where am I?

  I look around, totally confused. I’ve been running downhill for sure and I’m finally on flat land. But instead of a road, there’s…more woods.

  Trees as far as even my wolf eyes could see in the dark. And dammit…I can’t hear any traffic, even when I cup both ears. Which means I have no idea which way to walk to get out of here.

  I’m on the verge of falling to my knees and shaking my fist at the sky when the smell of roasting meat hits my nose. Some kind of big game mammal, even though hunters are only allowed to hunt birds in this part of North Dakota. Kyle worked for years with animal rights activists to get those laws passed.

  Who cares? Where there’s smoke, there’s someone who is not a sociopath dragon making that smoke. I run toward the smell and let out a huge sigh of relief when I find a group of hunters sitting around a fire.

  “The hell? Where’d you come from?” one of them demands, grabbing his rifle when I emerge from the dark.

  I sniff the air. They’re not YMWs, they’re humans. Humans stupid enough to hunt in a protected territory, if the carcass hanging upside down over their campfire is any indication. Normally, I’d be tearing them all a new one for daring to shoot anything on four legs around here. I cannot express enough how dangerous that is for the shifters who have to turn into wolves every full moon.

  But today, I feel nothing but relief at the sight of them. And I can’t even blame them for pointing their guns at me.

  I bet I look like I stepped straight out of a horror movie in my white nightgown covered in dragon blood.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you. Lower your guns,” I say, holding up both hands.

  Wolves have a lot of cool powers, but surviving gunshots isn’t one of them. And I’m deeply aware that I’m now surviving for two.

  “I was kidnapped,” I explain. “And I just now managed to get away. I need you to call someone to come get me and take me out of here.”

  “None of us have biochips. No way we’re letting those chinks hack our brains and shit.”

  Okay…and apparently they’re racist conspiracy theorists. Total side-eye emoji. But unfortunately, they’re my only hope right now.

  My dads can get anywhere they want in the woods. They’re always doing things like telling us to head east or west as opposed to left or right, or predicting the time of day by where the sun’s located in the sky. But I’m stupid dependent on my bioGPS, and I’m pretty sure I’ve overshot the old kingdom village I saw the other day. These racist bags of trash disguised as humans are better than the prospect of getting even more lost trying to find a road.

  “Can I borrow a phone then?” Then realizing I don’t know any phone numbers I could punch in from memory, I ask, “Or could one of you call 9-1-1?”

  There’s usually a wolf embedded in every police department. Surely one of them would be able to get me back in contact with the kingdom house.

  “No reception,” one of the guys answers, his gun still raised. “That’s why we like coming here to hunt. It’s a chance to get away from the city.”

  While violating at least six different conservation and territory laws. But I bite back on my frustration. “Okay then could one of you drive me to the closest police station? I just need to find someone to help me.”

  No one answers. No one lowers their guns.

  Then someone toward the back of the group asks, “What’s that around your neck?”

  I still, a bad feeling coming over me. A really, really bad feeling.

  “Looks like one of those biosystem-blocking collars,” another one observes.

  The guy who told me there was no reception out here finally lowers his gun. But he has a look on his face…one I’d describe as amusement if it didn’t hit me in the stomach like a gut punch.

  “That means she ain’t recording none of this,” he tells the others. “And there’s no way for her to call out.”

  That’s when I get it. That I’ve escaped one danger only to run right up to another. And ask it for help.

  The biochip age has led to a revolution of sorts. Crime has gone down to almost zero in most states. There’s less sexual harassment, fewer openly racist incidents, and almost zero kidnappings, because would-be-criminals never know who could be recording. These days, crime shows are either historical set pieces or tech mysteries involving cyber law violations I can barely understand.

  But before Fensa and I went off to our separate universities, my mother warned us that those were just statistics. “Data only tracks what data can see. Keep your biochip on. Don’t accept drinks from people you don’t know. Guard yourself even among the humans who don’t know you’re both in line to inherit kingdoms. It doesn’t matter that your she-wolves with biosystems, all the same rules for human women still apply.”


  I take a step back. Then another. Then I break out running back toward the mountain, doing my best not to trip over the long hem of my gown.

  The men quickly give pursuit on foot, like I’m a ten-point buck. I suppose I should be happy they didn’t shoot me like they would have a deer.

  But then my wolf reminds me, they’re not shooting because they’re planning to do something worst.

  I try to run faster. Normally my wolf speed would be enough to outdistance them. But the baby…it’s heavy in my stomach with no give whatsoever. It feels like I’m trying to run away with a bowling ball underneath my nightgown.

  Fear grips my heart. My wolf speed just isn’t enough to outrun their enthusiasm to hurt me. And even a bad-ass like me can’t fight off five humans with guns.

  Another statistic pops into my head now. There are almost zero kidnappings these days. But when there are, the bodies of the victims are pretty much never found.

  “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” I whisper to my unborn baby. Because I know these horrible humans won’t let us live after they’re done with me.

  No, they’ll kill me, then do whatever it takes to make sure I’m never found.

  KA-THUNK!

  Something lands in front of me, so hard, it makes the ground beneath my feet shake.

  Rearing back, I look up, way, way up to see a dragon. So huge and black, that save for its golden eyes, it’s hardly discernable from the night.

  One huge claw with razor-sharp talons comes shooting toward me. And the next thing I know I’m being crushed into a soft underbelly of scales. No, not crushed I realize after a few seconds of panic. Hugged.

  He’s hugging me to him. Protecting me.

  There comes an unearthly noise from above, like a roar and a shriek decided to get together for a death metal concert.

  Then the air all around me heats.

  And the next thing I hear is the sound of screaming.

  I turn my head, the only part of my body I can move underneath the dragon’s tight grip. And immediately wish I hadn’t looked.

  The men who were pursuing me are now running around in a panic. Not because they just saw something they thought was only a myth, but because they’re all on fire. Torches dancing to a soundtrack of bloodcurdling screams.

  The screaming doesn’t last long though.

  I watch their faces melt away like they’re in an Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark reboot. The screams stop when everything capable of emitting sound gets eaten up by the fire. And that fire burns and burns until they’re nothing but five piles of ashes with embers inside.

  Only then does the dragon let me go.

  He treads past me to put out those sizzling embers with a few clomps of its huge webbed foot. Now that I can see him up close under the moonlight, I realize he’s actually blue.

  I stare at the midnight blue dragon as it stomps out what’s left of the human hunters.

  Then I shiver when it turns back to look down at me, its golden eyes glowing bright with anger.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until it all expels from my body in one terrified gust. The dragon continues to stare down at me for several long moments. So obviously Damianos I don’t even need an introduction.

  Then he lowers his head, displacing so much air, the leaves on the surrounding tree rustle as he drops his chin to the ground with his neck extended.

  Okay, well, I don’t know anything about dragon body language, but I think he wants me to get on.

  I hesitate. Then hesitate some more. Then remember his dark promise the last time I tried to escape.

  Cease this immediately. Or I will have to punish you for your defiance on top of the punishment of this latest attempt at escape.

  More defiance will only get me into more trouble. And even if I dared to try to run again, I think Damianos has more than proven tonight that there’s no getting away when it comes to him.

  I climb on, then hold on tight as he launches us into the air.

  So the good news is your girl got to ride a dragon. And the flight was beautiful. You know, wind rushing through my cornrows, them 360-degree overhead Imax views—that’s what’s up!

  I would have clocked it as one of the best experiences of my life if I wasn’t returning to my prison.

  And punishment unknown.

  The bad news is that the ride ends all too soon with a coasting descent down to the gatehouse. He lowers his neck again. And I’m not sure if it’s intentional, but I have a perfect view of the mound of dirt where the former gatekeeper was buried as I climb off his back.

  I swallow hard. He almost killed my uncle the last time I tried to run.

  What would he do after I stabbed him and left him to die?

  That’s all I’m thinking about as I watch Damianos shift bit by bit. First the body trunk, then the face, then last, but not least, he retracts his huge blue-black wings.

  He’s completely naked in that Ken Doll way of his. And that mortal wound I thought I served his neck? Nowhere to be found.

  What the Fenrir Wolf? How bionic is this dude?

  He takes a step toward me.

  And I raise my chin defiantly, like, “Bring it on!”

  But if we’re spitting truth right now, that’s just Ola the Bad Bitch on automatic.

  “Never let a n-word see you sweat, baby girl.” That’s what great granddad used to tell me after Mom made him switch to a somewhat more sanitized version of his longtime personal motto.

  I’d been born to the first female alpha of a state pack. She’d had people gunning for her and her throne from the start. And the last thing Great Granddad had done before he joined that motorcycle gang in the sky was instill in me the value of a chin all the way up with a zero fucks look, even when I was scared as hell.

  I’d been pretending to be the toughest she-wolf in the land since I was a kid.

  But it’s harder than usual with this unearthly shifter staring down at me.

  He’s not even breathing hard. I guess giving me a dragon taxi ride home after firebombing a bunch of racist rapists wasn’t even much of a workout.

  But he looks mad. So mad. It’s hard to stand there with my chin up and not give in to the urge to run again or quiver and beg him not to murder anyone else over this.

  “Ola…” He steps to me, his voice a menacing presence inside my head, his eyes glowing so intense.

  I ball my fists because if he wants to break me, he is going to have to fight me—

  All those thoughts cut off when he suddenly leans down and enfolds me in his huge arms.

  “Ola,” he says again inside my head. “Please tell me they didn’t hurt you. If they hurt you, killing them with my fire wasn’t enough. I will find the parents who raised them and burn them alive too as punishment for what these men have done.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa slow down there, supervillain,” I say, my voice muffled in his chest because he’s got me wrapped up so tight in his arms. “They scared me, but I’m okay. No need to go hunting down anybody’s parents.”

  He grabs me by my shoulders and holds me away from him, his gaze scanning me like he’s running some kind of internal lie detector test behind that glowing gaze of his.

  I guess I passed because he just hugs me again after he’s done. “You frightened me, Reverence. It took nearly an hour for my shell to fix the wound after I pulled out the knife. And I was so afeared that I wouldn’t find you. If anything had happened to you. If those men had hurt you, or even touched you…”

  He lets out a great huff of air and it steams my back, hot and panicked.

  Now he’s breathing hard and holding me even tighter.

  I find myself in the weird position of raising my arms to awkwardly hug him back. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m fine. I promise you, I’m fine. Plus, I got to ride a dragon, so look at me now.”

  He pulls back again with a severe look. Then he lets out a long grumble.

  It takes me a few
confused seconds to ask, “Wait, are you laughing?”

  “Yes, Reverence. I undervalued and perhaps will never value enough how diverting you can be. You make me laugh.”

  “I make you laugh,” I repeat, feeling a little crazed.

  He abruptly stops laughing. “You have great confusion. Tell me why, Reverence.”

  I shake my head at him. “This wasn’t how I expected this conversation to go.”

  “What did you expect other than my utter relief?” he asks, sounding just as confused as I feel.

  “I don’t know. I figured maybe you’d yell at me for straight shanking you in the neck. Maybe break the other arm for trying to run away again. Kill a few relatives….”

  That’s another joke, but his face darkens. “I would never visit physical harm upon you. Nor would I kill any of your family members. I made you that promise the day I sent your uncle away.”

  “Yeah, I know what you said. And I’m a big believer in promises myself. I never break them. But I figured since it was you making the promise, it was just another trick. Like, you know, hypnotizing a famous basketball player and getting him to become my boyfriend, just so you could gain access to me. Plus, I stabbed you…”

  A strange guilt washes over me when I admit this out loud. And I bow my head, my eyes dropping and staying on the ground. Just like my infamously awkward mom.

  “Look at me, Reverence. Please, give me your eyes.”

  I never have problems looking people in the eye. I’m Ola fucking Greenwolf and I don’t play that shy she-wolf shit.

  But now it feels like I’m dragging my eyes through mud as I lift them to meet his.

  “I am not the drakkon I was before,” he tells me, his glowing gaze burning into mine. “I do not know how I can convince you of this. But the drakkon who manipulated you, who hurt you, who humiliated you because his ego could not accept such an unexpected fated mate—he is gone now. I have taken his place, and I will never hurt you again. You could stab me with a thousand different knives, and my only concern would be for your safety.”

  I let out another breath I didn’t realize I was holding, but this one is filled with relief. “Really?”