To Enchant a Dragon by Amanda Milo Page 0,6

open with your talons… yes! Like that.”

I flame-broil (or nostril-steam) my oysters; she eats hers raw. She also prefers to eat her fish raw, and with two mermen still twitching in my belly, I can’t stand in judgement against anyone who chooses not to thoroughly heat the life out of their meal before partaking in it.

Although the oyster meal has an enjoyable taste, it’s not long into the digestion process that I realize something is wrong. I don’t let it show, or at least I try not to show it, but I’m suddenly not feeling well. Certainly not feeling like myself.

When my belly scales start to heat though, I comprehend that it isn’t the mermen or the oysters at all.

I must be growing ill due to impending mate fever.

And this is bad. Because although a pair of Crested Merlin dragons will delight in a mate fever’s grip for an entire moon...

My mate is not a dragon. There will be no slaking of desire with her.

In fact, I’ll be burning in my fever all alone.

Rather than looking forward to a wild time of affection and an abundance of lovemaking with my female, I’m facing a hungering sickness that’s about to grow entirely worse.

CHAPTER 5

ADELLA

A cracking rumble registers so low in my eardrums that I’m certain I’m hearing the earth split open—but after it stops, I look around, gasping… and only see my dragon.

He’s perched high on a rock overlooking the reef barrier that forms the lagoon he’s placed me in, and his great horned head is cranked to the sky. As I watch, his jaws part, and another awful, terrifying, earth-shaking roar bursts from his throat.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” I shout up at him, my hands clamped over my ears.

His head snaps down, his eyes pinned right on me. His claws flex, causing little bits of rock to crumble off his ledge and tumble down into the water. His gaze is clear and direct. “I’m warning away other dragons. I’m telling them I have a mate now, and to steer clear of me. Of us,” he amends, his chest puffing ever so slightly.

I bite my lip, lowering my hands. “How old are you?” I call.

His shoulders drop and his neck twists—although it’s so long, his head barely moves from its position. He gazes at me as if he’s measuring the reason behind my inquiry before he answers. “Fifty-two avalanches of the Ember Pass.”

I… don’t know for sure what age that is. But let’s say there is only one avalanche per season, in dragon years, this male is… young. Technically old enough to have hatched his own clutch of eggs and even tail-thwapped them out of the nest so he and his mate could replace them with a dozen more, but still, he seems sort of… young.

“I’m not a fledgling,” he says stiffly, leading me to believe that he might be sensitive about his few years, and thus lack of seasons and, therefore, world experience.

“I can see that,” I grant. “And spare a female her pride and let’s simply say I’m not a smolt anymore.” I’m a hundred and five king tides.

“Smolt,” he murmurs, a little bit of smoke puffing up from between his scaly lips as he repeats the unfamiliar word. “A baby mermaid?”

I smile. “Pretty much.”

The end of his tail bounces into a curl and rolls free, then repeats the movement, like he’s pleased and relaxed. Then I’d swear his mouth parts pull up in a smile, tossing a happy-dragon look at me before he throws his head back and lets out another awful, ground-shaking bellow.

“Would you STOP?” I holler.

His horns tilt sharply; he’s twisted his neck and his head waggles rapidly back and forth, like his dragon’s ears are ringing. “Stop what?” he asks, sounding strained—as if I’m the one being vexing.

“The roaring!”

His snout drops straight down, leaving his horns straight up and his eyes staring level at me. “I have to keep you safe.”

“No one could have missed your first roar. No dragon would dare take that kind of noise on. They certainly haven’t missed the rest of your bellowing—I’m willing to bet my life on it.”

His neck frill tightens against his throat. “If you’re wrong, you are betting your life on it.”

I stare up at him, widening my eyes. “Let’s take the chance.” Before you kill me with a heart attack, I don’t add.

The dragon’s nostril shields suck back with his inhale and whip forward when he snorts his exhale. He turns his nose up a little