Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
SERAFINA
I rubbed my face into the heat beneath my cheek. The right half of my body was delightfully warm. Odd. My room at Rottbarry Manor was usually drafty, a constant chill wafting between the cracks in the stone wall. I couldn’t recall ever being this comfortable upon waking.
I thrust my arms over my head and pointed my toes, unleashing a hearty yawn.
Aches and pains made themselves known, and I rubbed at the strange burning sensation in my stomach.
My monthly wasn’t due for a couple of weeks.
After I tended to Lady Penelope’s morning toilette, I’d make myself some tea to ease the ache.
I cracked my eyes open, frowning at the stony facade before me. Why was I against the wall? Despite the size of my tiny room, my cot sat in the center. Away from the chill coming from the stones. I set my palm against the blackish-green surface, finding it warm and—gulp—breathing.
Memory slammed into me in a rush. Monsters. The attack. Mortis. The lake. And then—
The dragon.
I was alive. How the hell was I alive?
My stomach dropped, and I twisted around.
Behind me sprawled a massive forearm, sinewy and muscular—larger than Penelope’s overstuffed settee.
To my right was a colossal expanse of black scales.
My gaze tracked upward along a powerful, serpentine neck.
The dragon’s head was twisted away, his face tucked under a folded wing.
My mind stuttered, refusing to comprehend. I’d slept curled up within a dragon’s arms. Like a rodent with a death wish cuddling with a cat.
How was I still breathing? Outside the beast’s belly instead of inside?
Did he decide to save me for a late-night snack?
The urge to run and scream while tearing at my hair rode me hard, and I forced down the terror swelling in my throat.
That path surely led to a swift end at the bottom of the beast’s belly.
Not daring to breathe, I gathered my bare legs beneath me, rising with agonizing slowness. Flark. Everywhere I looked, scales and talons surrounded me.
I needed out. Now!
Holding my breath, I gently rested my palm against the beast’s powerful forearm.
One painstaking movement at a time, I hiked my leg as though mounting a horse, slinging my body over the breadth of his arm.
Chilly air met my nether regions, and I stifled a shiver.
Where the heck were my clothes? And whose shirt was I wearing?
Questions for later—assuming I survived.
Cold stone kissed my toes, and I shifted my weight before swiveling the opposite leg over.
Pulse pounding so hard I feared the beast would hear, I lifted my palms free of his scales.
Once clear, I breathed a long, silent sigh.
The dragon’s massive flanks rose and fell with his steady breaths. Still asleep. Thank the fates.
Now, to find a way out of here.
The cavernous chamber extended before me, no doors or exits save for several darkened hallways that led to who knew where.
The domed ceiling was tangled with cobwebs.
Stone tiles spanned the floor, the dusty surface cool beneath my bare feet.
Along one side of the room was a massive fireplace, the flames little more than dull embers.
On the other was a long table with two benches and sturdy chairs at either end.
I had a vague memory of that table. Of resting upon it, weaker than a babe. My skin was icy as a corpse, while fire burned in my middle. Followed by heat, power, and connection. In that image, a pair of sky-blue eyes glared down at me.
“You’d better be worth it.”
The phantom words sent a shiver racing up my arms. My hand drifted to my stomach. Mortis had stabbed me—three times. I should be ashes in a funeral pyre.
I hiked up the bottom of my shirt, revealing the wound. Puckered, angry scars marred my flesh where they should have been raw and bleeding. Not even Yaga’s most potent brews could work such a miracle.
“How…” I whispered.
“You’re awake.”
I spun around, choking on a scream. The dragon’s green eyes—deep, sharp, and unsettling—bored into mine. The dragon lifted his massive head, neck uncoiling with predatory grace. His lips curved in a ghastly semblance of a smile. If you could call it that.
“Rest assured, I wasn’t the healer who tended you.” He rolled his front claws, letting each lethal talon tap the floor.
Run. Run. Run, my instincts shouted, while my feet remained rooted in place. Run where? One step and he’d snap me up in an instant.
Play nice with the dragon, Sera.
What was he saying? My pulse roared in my ears. “Right. That makes sense. Otherwise, I’d be torn to shreds. Ha. Ha.” My voice emerged higher than I intended, and I cleared my throat.
“Myrna, one of the trogg, cared for you.”
I was talking to a dragon. A real, in-the-flesh dragon. One that had almost eaten me. Twice.
What did a person do in this situation? Every instinct screamed at me to run, to shriek, to do something other than stand there like prey.
It was a solid plan. But another part of me—stubborn, foolish, endlessly curious—made me hesitate.
The same part that kept me awake in Yaga’s shop, grinding herbs into the night.
The part of me that was fascinated by anything outside of my mundane existence as a household slave.
That secret part that always whispered the world was filled with so much I’d yet to explore.
Stay calm, Sera. Stay calm. Deep breath.
“Myrna has quite the gift.” I managed a steady tone. Almost. “I was near death.” I’d never met a trogg in person. Apparently, they had skills far beyond my own. Possibly even magic-based.
The beast inclined his head in a way that was strangely subdued compared to our first meeting.
It suddenly dawned on me while I heard his words in my mind. His lips didn’t move.
If I had brain damage, it would explain a lot.
“How is it I can hear you?” I tapped my temple. “Here.”
His thick brow furrowed. “A fair question. One I would also like answered.”
Not a head injury then. Maybe this, too, was magical. Could it be connected to the strange things that had been happening to me since my birthday? Goddess save me if anyone from the village found out.
Except they were gone, lost in the attack, while I was here. Why was I here? Still alive. Speaking with a mystical creature that shouldn’t exist.
My frown mimicked the dragon’s. “You saved me.” Whereas the first time we crossed paths, he’d nearly made me his dinner while hunting the nerf. This encounter was far different than the last. The dragon far less…savage.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Are you not happy to be alive?”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean...” Careful, Sera. Don’t anger the dragon. Don’t goad that dark hunter into emerging again. I exhaled a slow breath. “It’s not my intention to sound ungrateful. Thank you for the timely rescue.” At least I hoped it was a rescue.
“You are welcome.” He dipped his blocky head in a regal manner. “My name is Alaric, by the way.”
Oh, right. Introductions. How civilized.
“And I’m Ser… I mean. Lady Serafina.” At the lake, I’d worn a tiara and ball gown—both of which were missing. It was possible he didn’t gobble me up because he thought I was royalty. Best to keep up the ruse.
“Liar,” barked another voice from across the room.
With a startled yelp, I spun to face this new threat. The newcomer strolled toward me with a lazy confidence that sent my pulse skittering.
By the fates, the man was beautiful. Too beautiful. My breath caught in my throat, and I might have choked on my own tongue just a little.
What sorcery was this?
No mortal male had the right to look that good. Suspicion prickled my senses, and I narrowed my eyes, studying his smooth, predatory grace. Maybe he was some wicked creature bent on seduction. A poisonous flower crafted to lure in its prey.
An incubus, then.
Now I’d met a dragon, a sex demon wasn’t that far-fetched.
It would certainly explain the traitorous way my body reacted to him—the tight ache in my nipples, the swell of my breasts, and the rush of molten heat pooling low in my belly.
Even the center of my chest warmed, a soft glow spreading outward.
I’d never had such a strong reaction to meeting someone for the first time.
Almost as though we shared some connection.
Piercing blue eyes peered back at me, framed by thick, sooty lashes.
His firm lips were twisted into an arrogant smirk, set in a chiseled jaw.
Athletically built and bare-chested, he wore his pants low on his hips, revealing a tempting glimpse of a sculpted V-line.
Across his broad shoulders shimmered flecks of midnight pigment, faint but unmistakable—like dragon scales ground down to dust and scattered over his skin.
Could it be the two were related in some way?
He studied me a beat too long, and when he finally spoke, his words cut.
“If you’re royalty,” he sneered, “then I’m the newly crowned Queen of Carcerem.”
The rejection registered slowly. Once it did, an odd sense of hurt dulled the warmth in my center. “Excuse me?”
“No.” He sauntered to the table and selected an apple from a bowl of fruit, examining it with a casual twist of his wrist. “I don’t think I will. Shame on you for treating those who saved you with deceit.”
Anger flared, hot and sharp, straightening my spine. “And who are you to place judgment on me?”
And what a strange world I’d woken up in. Dragons, trogg, and now this devilish incubus. Maybe I hadn’t survived the attack at all. Maybe I was trapped in some twisted purgatory.
With a mocking gleam in his blue eyes, he swept out his half-eaten apple and executed a courtly bow. “Thorne Blackwing, at your service, your fake ladyship.”