Tropical Dragons Series Box Set - Naomi Lucas Page 0,55
doesn’t it attack?
The dragon’s jaw snaps closed, and my gaze shifts to his bright, glowing eyes. The saliva in my mouth dries up. Small blue pupils stare daggers back at me, surrounded by brilliant blue light.
The dragon exhales another breathy gust. Its heat washes over me, and for a moment, the rain is gone from my flesh; my eyes dry up—I blink—it’s gone, and I’m drenched again.
“Go on with it!” I yell. “Kill me already!” I take a step forward.
Thunder slices the air, lightning flashes across my periphery, and somewhere far off, I hear the cracking and destruction of trees.
Yet the dragon just stares at me.
But then a thought pops into my head.
I don’t have to die.
I’ll live if I can touch it.
The rain beats down hard between us as I assess the space between us, as I wonder if I’m fast enough.
My toes curl. Suddenly, everything in me wants to touch this amazing creature, enough that it nearly hurts. My hands are twitching again.
Does he feel this too?
“Dragon,” I whisper, having no idea if he’ll hear me or even understand me. There’s so much I want to say, so much running through my mind, more sensations crashing through me than I can understand. All that comes out is, “I need you.”
Not, “Please don’t hurt me.” Not, “Make it quick.”
Not, “I don’t want to die.”
I need you.
I take another step forward.
A noise emanates from the dragon’s throat, and it’s nothing like I’ve ever heard. Ancient and thick, and it falls over me like the heat of his breaths. A whipping sound hits my ears, and his giant silver-blue wings span out to cover the sky above my head.
My lips part as I begin to raise my hand into the air between us.
And right before I close the distance, nearly touching the sapphire scales of its sharp jaw, a familiar shriek assaults me, and rage darkens my dragon’s bright eyes. Falling back with a scream, he rises, lightening his backdrop, as he swivels his head to the left.
The ground shakes, and I twist onto my hands and knees and crawl away. Another, much smaller, dragon lands; it’s black and wet and glistening. It sees me and yowls, clawing its way straight for me before its front legs even touch the ground.
Chaos erupts as I scramble to my feet, preparing to run, but the large dragon jumps onto the smaller one, pinning it down before its jowls touch my flesh. Wings, tails, claws, and limbs slash the sand near me.
I dodge and fall, zig-zagging between, trying to get away. Every time I’m about to be crushed or hit though, I’m not, and begin to realize the larger dragon is shielding me.
My feet sink into the sand and waves crawl over my flesh, as I aim for the ocean, hoping to swim away. Then—hearing it more than seeing—one of the dragons slams into the cliffside of my home.
A tail stops me and I pivot to the side, forced to back up onto the rocks, using my spear as leverage to keep me upright.
Twisting further, I thrust my spear toward the fight, toward the water dragon’s wings and its back, its tail lashing the air above my head. The smaller dragon flaps higher into the air, claws elongated and stretched, and latches onto my dragon, curling its long tail around the bigger dragon’s body. The black dragon’s eyes catch mine—there is only hate there—and its jaw opens, thrusting its head over the larger one’s shoulder and biting down on its wing.
Red blood sprays everywhere.
A cacophony of sounds joins the constant thunder and my blue dragon rears up and drops down on the smaller one. The black one tries to climb out but is stopped, grabbed by something I can’t see, and pushed to the sand. It doesn’t try to escape.
I don’t see the smaller dragon at all.
This is your chance! I glance to either side of me but only see the storm’s waves to my left and falling rocks to my right. With no other exit, I give into the chaos, the inevitability, and stumble forward, raising my free hand to place it on the large dragon’s back.
An electric shock rips through me, pushing my eyes to the back into my head. Dropping my spear, I place my other hand on the dragon, suddenly needing more contact, finding a ridge on his wing to clutch. Without deciding what I should do, I press my whole body against him, shaking with bliss.