CHAPTER 9
THE PRINCESS
I awaken on a gasp.
My lungs expand, actually expand, for the first time in a century, and the sensation is so overwhelming I nearly choke on it. Air. Real air. Not the phantom breath of dreams, but oxygen flooding my system, making my head spin and my vision blur. It smells lovely. Like stone and flowers.
I open my eyes slowly.
The world is too bright. Too sharp. Too real. I blink rapidly, trying to focus, and my tongue darts out to wet my lips. There's something on them. Something sweet and sticky and metallic. Blood? I taste it again, and a strange pull thrums through my body. A need to taste more, to drink it down, to—
What the fuck?
My vision finally clears, and I see him.
A monster.
A large dragon-man monster with iridescent scales that shimmer beautifully in the bright light, a thick tail coiled on the stone floor, and black eyes. They're completely black, no whites at all, staring down at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
He almost looks human. Almost. But his nose is too wide, his nostrils flared like a beast's.
His build is more muscular than any human could ever achieve, all corded strength and raw power barely contained beneath scaled skin.
He's tall. So tall that the tip of my head might only barely reach his chest. And he has wings.
He has actual wings folded against his back, the membranes thin enough to see veins pulsing beneath.
He's beautiful.
He wears pants. Just pants, with a belt, as if that makes him civilized. As if that makes him anything other than what he is.
His feet are massive, tipped with black claws that scrape against the stone. His hands, clawed, deadly, rest at his sides as he stands beside my bed.
Is this the monster that's been holding me captive?
The question barely forms before I'm overcome with emotion so intense it steals my breath.
My heart pounds erratically. My chest tightens.
Because I know him. I know the feel of those claws on my skin.
I know the rumble of his voice in my ear.
I know the stretch of him inside me, the way he fills every empty space until there's nothing left but him.
This is my lover. My mate. The one fate herself chose for me while I was trapped. I thought maybe, maybe, I loved him. Actually loved him. The bond whispered it to me in the quiet moments, wrapped around my heart, and squeezed until I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.
But seeing him now, awake and aware and faced with the reality of what he is...
He's my captor.
The one who stole a century from me. The one who kept me locked away like a doll in a tower while the world moved on without me.
I will always hate him. I will never love him. Not for what he stole. Not for what he took.
Even as warmth blooms in my chest at the sight of him. Even as my body hums with recognition, a tingling sensation spreading from my core outward, making my fingers twitch and my toes curl.
No. No, I won't—
"It's time to choose, my love."
His voice. That deep, rumbling voice that's haunted and soothed me for a hundred years. The same voice that whispered filthy things in my ear while he fucked me senseless.
My mind can't even wrap around the concept of time. I'm 119 years old. How is that possible? How am I still here?
Now that I'm awake, I'm forced to decide. Will I stay with him? Leave? Kill him? Kill myself? The options swirl in my head, each one more impossible than the last.
I try to sit up, but the world tilts violently. My vision goes dark at the edges, and I fall back against the pillows with a gasp.
"Careful. You've been asleep a long time. I—"
His hands reach for me, and I shove them away. Weakly. Pathetically. But he allows it, pulling back immediately, his expression crumpling.
"Do... not... touch... me... monster..." My voice is scratchy, raw, like I've been screaming for days. Maybe I have been. Maybe that's what a century of silence sounds like when it finally breaks. My throat burns. There's a ringing in my ears that won't stop. "I need..."
I don't know what I need. Water? Air? An explanation for why my body feels like it's been hollowed out and filled with something else entirely?
"Here, my love."
He hands me a glass of water, and I snatch it from him, glaring as I drink. It's the best thing I've ever tasted. Cold and clean and real. Magic kept me alive this last century. I didn't need food or water or anything but the spell holding me in stasis.
But now? Now I'm ravenous.
I drain the glass and shove it back at him.
"Adelaide... I... I'm so sorry. I love you."
Tears stream down his face, shimmering as they trace the iridescent scales on his cheeks. I've never heard him sound so sad. So desperate. So utterly broken.
"Please... please choose—"
Blood.
Blood is spraying across my face suddenly, hot and wet and metallic. I blink, confused, my foggy mind struggling to process what I'm seeing.
One moment, my dragon is leaning toward me, professing his love. The next, he's clutching his throat as blood sprays from a wound I didn't see coming. An arrow. Lodged in his throat, the shaft still quivering.
His black eyes widen. He looks toward the door, and I follow his gaze.
In the archway stands a man in flashy armor, all polished silver and ridiculous plumes.
He looks puny compared to the dragon. Insignificant.
He pulls back his crossbow and shoots again.
This arrow lands in my dragon's upper bicep, and he roars.
A sound so full of pain and rage that it makes my bones vibrate.
"How..." My dragon's voice is garbled, choked with blood. He collapses to the floor, his wings crumpling beneath him, his tail thrashing weakly.
My foggy mind can't keep up. Can't process. Can't—
Suddenly, I'm lifted into the air and thrown over the shoulder of the knight who shot him. My dragon. My—
No. Not mine. He's not mine. He's my captor. My jailer.
So why does my chest ache as I'm carried away?
My vision cuts in and out as I'm moved through the castle. I catch glimpses of stone walls, tapestries, the courtyard bathed in morning light. Everything is too bright, too loud, too much.
And with every step the knight takes, the ache in my chest grows worse. Burns deeper.
It starts as a dull throb, a tightness that makes it hard to breathe. But the farther we get from the tower, the more it intensifies. A pull. A painful, insistent pull in my stomach, like something vital is being stretched too thin.
I gasp, clutching at the knight's armor.
"Stop," I rasp. "Stop, I—"
He doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow down.
The pain sharpens, twisting into something unbearable. It's not just my stomach now, it's everywhere. My chest, my limbs, my head. A horrible, gnawing ache that gets worse with every step, every second, every breath.
I've been referring to him as my dragon in my head.
The realization hits me like a slap. When did that happen? When did he stop being "the monster" and become "mine"?
I don't know. I don't know, and I don't have time to figure it out because the pain is getting worse and I can't think, can't breathe, can't—
"Where... where are we going?" I manage to choke out.
The knight doesn't answer. Just keeps walking down some stairs now, his grip on me bruising.
We reach the courtyard, and he throws me onto a horse. My stomach hits the saddle hard. My breath huffs out. I nearly fall off, my limbs too weak to hold me upright. He climbs up beside me, one arm heavy over my back to keep me in place.
The horse takes off at a gallop, and the pain explodes.
It's like my insides are being ripped out. Like something vital is being torn away, and if we go any farther, I'll die. I'll actually die.
I lean into the horse, retching, but nothing comes up. Just dry heaves that leave me gasping and shaking.
"Please," I whisper. "Please, stop. It hurts. It—"
"Quiet," the knight snaps. His voice is cold. Clipped. "You're safe now. That's all that matters."
Safe? Safe?
I want to laugh. I want to scream. Because I don't feel safe. I feel like I'm dying.
The bond. It's the bond. The mate bond that's been tying me to him for a century, growing stronger with every touch, every whisper, every moment we spent together.
And now it's tearing me apart.
The journey takes hours. Or maybe days. I can't tell. I keep blacking out. Time blurs together, punctuated only by the relentless pain in my stomach and the knight's occasional barked orders to his men. When did others join us?
He doesn't speak to me. Doesn't ask if I'm okay. Doesn't care that I'm barely conscious, slumped against him like a corpse.
By the time we reach the palace, my palace, the one I grew up in, I'm too weak to stand. The knight has to carry me inside, and I hate him for it. Hate the way his hands feel on my skin, too rough and too cold and all wrong.
The palace is different. Brighter. More opulent. There are new tapestries on the walls, new servants bustling about. No one looks familiar. I suppose everyone I knew is dead now. A century has passed, and everything has changed.
Except me.
I'm still the same girl who was cursed on her nineteenth birthday. Still the same girl who's been asleep for a hundred years.
The knight carries me into the throne room, and I see him. The king. My distant cousin, apparently. He's young, maybe thirty, with a sharp face and cold green eyes. He looks at me like I'm a prize he's won.
"Your Majesty," the knight says, bowing as much as he can while still holding me. "I present Princess Adelaide, rescued from the disgusting dragon's clutches."
The king rises from his throne, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well done, Prince Benedict. Very well done indeed."
Prince Benedict. So, the knight has a name. How wonderful.
"Set her down," the king orders.