by Selena Scott
“Comply with us,” growled the other one in an accent she couldn’t quite place. He pulled something shiny out of his coat. A syringe. “Or we’ll be forced to subdue you.”
Fearing whatever drug was in that syringe more than the bodily harm they were sure to inflict on her, Lucy went still.
She was desperate to know where they were taking her, but she refused to ask. She took a deep breath and tried to observe every detail about both of the men that she could. She’d want to tell the police anything that could help them track down these assholes as soon as she got away. Because she was getting away. There was no way she was dying in an abandoned subway station.
She observed them from the corners of her eyes. Plain black clothing, matching buzz cuts. They both wore diamond studs in their ears. Weird.
She craned her neck to catch sight of their faces, but it was too dark in the abandoned subway tunnel. Suddenly, they stopped, in complete unison with one another. The tunnel was so dark that Lucy couldn’t see the end of her own nose. But in the darkness something glinted, like moonlight over a lake.
“On the count of three?” one asked and the other one shook his head, checking his phone.
“They’re ready immediately.”
“Wait, what? NO!” Lucy screamed as the two men lifted her clear off the ground and tossed her into thin air.
She was nowhere. She was nobody. There was only blackness, expansion, compression. She was growing and shrinking at the same time. Maybe this was death.
But then she had arms again, she felt them around her own ribcage. And she had legs, she could feel those too. She felt something strong and warm against her. Heard a heartbeat against her ear. Felt the solid step-step-step of someone who knew where they were going. Something smelled good. Like freshly dug earth and baking bread.
She opened her eyes and they ached all the way to the back of her head. She blinked the blur out of her eyes and realized she was cradled in someone’s arms. Someone’s gigantic arms. Like serious python arms. She tilted her head back and saw a black t shirt, the bottom of a sharp jaw, a buzzed head, and just a glimpse of a diamond earring…
Lucy lost her shit. With a war cry that would have made Xena proud, she scratched out at her kidnapper, catching him on the neck. Kicking her legs wildly, she beat her fists against him as hard as she could. After a few furious seconds she realized he hadn’t even broken stride. She felt like a toddler throwing a tantrum, dwarfed by his size and manner. She turned her face toward his chest. Well, let’s see if he could ignore this.
CHAPTER FOUR
Amos held Lucy a little further from his body as she kicked and punched and screamed. He couldn’t take her warm body writhing around against him. Her dress was even thinner than it had looked on the television screen and as she threw herself around, it was working its way up her thighs. He refused to look down.
The minute he locked her in her chambers, he was gonna have to take a private moment for himself.
She sagged for a second. He hoped she’d tired herself out. King Dalyer would not think this was cute.
Amos, on the other hand, definitely thought it was a little cute. Watching her try to get out of his hold was like watching a kitten try to fight a black bear. She was just so fragile and little. So delicate like a-
“Fuck! Did you just bite me?” Amos was caught completely by surprise and bobbled her, losing his grip.
Taking her opportunity, Lucy slid down his body, stomped his foot with her high heel, and took off running.
Amos pressed his hand to his chest, checking to see if she’d drawn blood. Damn. That had hurt! So why the fuck was he at half mast? Shaking his head at himself, he figured she had enough of a head start. She was about 200 feet away from him at this point. Coming up fast on the fortress doors.
He beat her there and lazily leaned his back on the gate. She pulled up short, realizing he had cut her off and looked around wildly for another exit.
“This is the only way out,” he said.
Her ice blue eyes snapped to his and he felt it like an electric shock straight to his groin.
“That’s what you’d say no matter if it were true or not,” she snapped.
He shrugged. Pretended that hearing the husk her voice had taken on from screaming didn’t affect him.
“Of course.”
“Soooo. In that case,” she said and turned to sprint in the other
direction.
She’d gotten approximately four steps before he was standing in her
path again. His feet planted and his arms crossed. She turned yet again but this time his arm darted out and gently looped her waist. She tried to scratch him again so he grabbed her by the wrists and whipped her arms up over her head. She tugged away from him and it drew her very full breasts up and almost out the top of her dress.
He dragged his eyes up to her parted lips. He licked his own, felt
himself pulling her a little closer. But when he looked up at her brilliant blue eyes, he saw fear in them. Mortal fear.
He sighed. “What if I promised I would never hurt you.”
She glared up at him, anger joining the fear in her eyes. “Stop lying
to me.”
“I’m not lying. I’m promising.”
She stopped tugging and looked up at him, thoroughly confused.
He thought of how important she was to the King. How much the royal line completely and utterly depended on her.
“What if I swore that I would never let harm come to you. That I’d die for you if it came to it.”
He felt the air change between them and knew that the rawest of the
fear was leaving her. It was replaced with racing thoughts, a desperation to understand what the hell was going on.
He continued on. “If you can accept that promise then I can start
explaining where you are why you’re here.”
“And you’ll let go of me?” she asked, her eyes big and gentle and, God, was she weepy? Shit. He really didn’t’t want to see her cry.
“I’ll let go of you,” he agreed.
“Ok. Then in that case, I believe you won’t hurt me. I accept your promise.”
He held on to her for another second. Just the briefest of moments. He didn’t want to let go of her. He wanted to touch her more. He wanted to see if the skin on her neck was as soft as the skin on her wrists. He wanted to lift her up again the way he’d carried her from the portal. With her pressed so firmly into him. Her beautiful face against his chest. He wanted to have a reason to keep on holding her. But he didn’t have a reason. She wasn’t his to touch or hold. She was the King Dalyer’s. From the moment the Oracle had tracked her down in the human realm, she had become King Dalyer’s most important possession.
Amos’s stomach curdled slightly at the thought. He settled for swiping his thumb across one of her wrists, just once. Committing the feeling to memory.
The second he loosened his grip she yanked herself away from him. Growling, he chased after her, tiring of the game.
“What the fuck, little hatchling.” He growled deep in his chest and snared her wrists again. “Quit doing that.”
She yanked at him. “Well, promising not to hurt me pretty much makes it a no brainer for me to keep trying to escape.” Her eyes sparked with an internal fire and he realized that she had never been close to crying before. She’d been playing him. And he’d let himself be played.
This was ridiculous. He was one of the fiercest warriors in the entire dragon realm. The freaking KING trusted him above all other people. And here he was unable to get this tiny little human from one room to the next. Fed up, he bent down and tossed her over his shoulder. He strode across the great hallway and toward the King’s chambers. Amos was careful to hold her in such a way that she couldn’t bite him again.
“Hey!” she screeched. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me!”
“Am I hurting you?”
Her staunch, irritated silence told him that he wasn�
�t.
“I didn’t promise not to restrain you. And actually I’m keeping my promise by not letting you escape from the fortress. It’s not safe out there for you, hatchling.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Fortress?” She immediately stiffened in his arms. Looking around at the windowless hallway, the dingy gray stone walls, the lanterns burning every few feet, her eyes grew wide. “What the hell is this place? Oh my God. This is one of those BDSM dungeons isn’t it.”
Apparently deciding that she was done fighting him, he flipped her off his shoulder so he could carry her in front of him again. He looked down at her as he walked.
“What’s BSDM?” he asked.
Lucy instantly felt her cheeks set on fire. She had never been in a weirder situation. “It’s like, um, you know. When people tie each other up and like, have pain sex?”
“Pain sex?” His brow furrowed.
She was suddenly very aware of her breasts that were sort of crushing into his chest. For some reason, she couldn’t seem to look him in the face. “You know, like the whole pleasure/pain thing.”
“Pleasure/pain,” he repeated, completely deadpan.
“Yeah, like, hurts so good? That kinda thing?”
“This is the kind of sex you have?” His voice had grown very deep. Lucy could feel it vibrate out from his chest and through her. She was suddenly very hot.
“No, no. I mean not really. Not formally. But, like, who hasn’t been spanked every now and then.”
He grunted a little and she darted her eyes up to his face. He stared down at her, his eyes dark and hooded. And really, really brown. Like crazy, amber-ish, gorgeous brown.
“Spanked,” he repeated.
Lucy scrubbed her hands through the air. “You know what, this is so
not the point. Would you just tell me where the hell I am?”
“We’re here now. So, I guess the King will tell you.”
“King?!” Lucy had heard enough. Twenty minutes ago she’d been on her way to an art show in Queens. And since then she’d been accosted on the street, dragged into a dirty, abandoned subway tunnel, tossed into some sort of black hole, manhandled, chased around, and manhandled some more.
“Sure, why not.” She threw her hands in the air. “Of course there’s a King.”
Muscle man set her down in front of two incredibly ornate stone doors. Giant creatures were carved in great, curling patterns. Gems sparkled in their eyes.
“You’ll be reverent with the King, hatchling.” he said to her, one hand still on her shoulder. “He won’t be happy otherwise.”
She looked up at him, a retort on her tongue, but it died when she saw his genuine expression. He was worried about her.
She shrugged. “Fine. As long as I get some answers.”
“You’ll get answers.” He went to push open the door but paused and turned back to her. “Just, maybe don’t mention pain sex to him.”
“Oh my God.” Lucy face palmed. “I am not usually out here just talking about BDSM. I’m flustered, ok!”
“Ok,” he said, his voice low and his eyes dark. In a move that completely surprised her, he reached out like he was gonna touch her face, but dropped his hand. “Just remember my promise to you.”
This whole situation was thoroughly fucked up and the first chance she got, Lucy knew she was getting the hell out of here. But for some reason, she believed him. She believed he was going to protect her. No matter what.
“Let's meet the King.”
This King Dalyer certainly had a very specific… style. Lucy thought as she looked around the huge chamber. Again, no windows, but plenty of gold filigree, embedded gems, and an absolutely ridiculous amount of velvet. Seriously, how many skeins of velvet had to die to outfit all the drapes in this joint.
The King sat straight in a comically large throne. It was ten times taller and wider than it had to be. The King sat in the middle of it, making him look like he’d been shrunk down. So weird. Actually, now that she thought about it, everything was gigantic. Even the lanterns on the wall were the size of refrigerators.
The King had yet to speak. So far he’d just stared at her with disturbingly dark eyes. Like a snake’s.
Lucy refused to fidget under his gaze, but it had been a fairly stressful evening and no one had offered to show her to the bathroom. Just as she was about to ask for one, the King spoke.
“You're healthy?” he asked.
Kind of flummoxed, Lucy turned to Muscle Man for clarification. He tossed his head toward the King like, answer.
She turned back. “Yeah. I am.”
She wondered if maybe she should have lied. Told him she had some sort of disgusting disease so that he'd let her go.
“But you have Ellington’s syndrome.”
Lucy gaped at him. How the hell did he know that? It wasn’t a deadly disease or anything, just a chromosomal disorder that changed the way she processed proteins. Most people went their whole lives without even knowing they had it. “You accessed my medical records?”
He didn't answer her question. Instead asked another one. “And your mother had asthma, yes? A very particular form?”
Lucy out and out refused to answer this question. She was not about to discuss her mother with this creepy ass man in a weirdly big chair. But Muscles nudged her. She needed to answer.
She nodded curtly.
A smile curled into King Dalyer’s face and Lucy fought not to shiver against it. It made him even creepier.
“Why, you're a miracle.” The King’s voice had a quiet, fascinated edge to it. “Almost as if you were designed just for me.”
Lucy’s blood froze. Tonight she'd been frustrated, angry, startled, nervous, confused, and very scared. But this was the first time she was truly frightened. She felt sick imagining what he meant by that. She shuffled her feet just slightly and immediately felt the warmth of Muscles beside her. Apparently her body had decided it was time to move a little closer to him.
“You see, my family has had a little problem over the last few generations.” The King still hadn’t moved an inch in the chair and his unnatural stillness disturbed her. “Most of our children die.”
At that, he lifted one hand and examined one of the many rings on his fingers. “Even those who make it to adulthood are… weaker than the ancestors. Soon we won't even be able to defend the throne. Especially from this pesky little rebel alliance that keeps rearing its head.”
“Defend the throne with just physical strength?” Lucy asked, unable to keep from cutting in. “Isn't that a little medieval? Couldn't you try, I don’t know, negotiations?”
The King stared at Lucy incredulously, letting out a low chuckle. Even Muscles gave a little chuff of surprise from next to her.
“Child, that is not our way. We are creatures of battle.”
Lucy shrugged, kind of odd phrasing, but whatever. “Alright. So what do I have to do with any of this?” She was one second away from stomping her foot.
“You,” the King said as he finally broke his stick-straight posture and leaned forward, studying her. “Are a delightful little cocktail of DNA. And any child of mine, borne by you, would be the most powerful being in the land.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped. What. The. Royal. Fuck.
CHAPTER SIX
Amos tried hard not to grimace at the look on Lucy’s face. She was looking at the King like he was an absolute psycho. King Dalyer was not going to put up with that for long until he took offense and punished her insolence.
Perhaps thinking that she didn't understand what he'd said, the King went on. “We will mate. You will bear me offspring that will be the heir to this throne.”
With that, Lucy’s mouth clapped shut. She brought one hand up and rubbed across her forehead, like she had a headache. Crossing her arms over her ample chest, she looked up at the King.
“Yeah. I’m gonna take a pass. Hard pass.”
“Excuse me, human?” The King’s eyes glittered like stones at the bottom of a
well. Amos knew what was coming, even if Lucy had no earthly clue. He took one step in front of her, not blocking her, just getting ready.
“What makes you think you have a choice in the matter?” The King’s voice dropped to a level so deep it bounced off the walls like bass. “It’s laughable to think you are even capable of refusing me. You're powerless here, human.”
Amos heard Lucy gasp behind him as the King tossed his head backwards and his long, suddenly reptilian tongue lashed out at the air. Bone spikes shot out of his spine and his skin took on a blood red hue as scales unshackled and clicked themselves into place. His tail curled around him and landed with a wet thump on the floor. He shot upwards and outwards, tripling in size in the blink of an eye. With a sharp sound, his claws clicked out and there he sat on the throne, full dragon.
Amos could hear Lucy’s panicked breath, but could also feel King Dalyer’s rage directed toward her. Something in him told him to shift to his dragon form as well. But never once had he shifted to face off with the King. It made him sick to think about it. But he had to de-escalate the situation. If the King hurt Lucy, it could forever doom the royal line.
“Your highness, she's not safe here right now.” He stepped fully in front of her. “I’m taking her away. We can finish this later.”
The King must have seen the logic in what Amos said because the blood red dragon leaned back in the throne. He raised a monstrous, clawed paw and dismissed them.
“Go,” Amos whispered to Lucy. She didn't need telling twice as she scrambled out of the throne room and into the cold stone hallway.
“Amos,” the King’s voice stopped him at the threshold. “Make sure she doesn’t attempt to escape tonight. She’ll injure herself if she does.”
Amos nodded. “I’ll assign Rodrigo to watch her.”
“No,” the King said. “Rodrigo will take me tonight. You will stay with her.”
It was not in Amos’s training to argue with King Dalyer. He gave a curt nod of assent. He shot a quick text to Rodrigo. He was professional and a fierce fighter. The King would be fine for the night. He turned and followed Lucy out of the hall, slamming the chamber doors closed behind them.