To Wake a Dragon - Naomi Lucas Page 0,12

some of the herb onto my tongue. I squinch, swallowing it.

It leaves a bad taste behind, but that’s the least of my concerns.

By the time I put the herb away and strap my bag tight to my shoulder, my head and bruised body have already numbed out.

Now, it’s time to move.

I slowly pull myself to my feet, keeping my arms forward to search the area directly around me. Dust and dirt fall off my skin.

I fell by the ledge. If I can find it again, maybe I’ll discover my way out.

A groan reaches my ears, and I stiffen.

It’s so quiet, had I actually heard something? I wait and am about to move forward when I hear it again. It’s low and short and makes my chest constrict. My skin rises, and I take a step in the sound’s direction before I realize what I’m doing.

It’s him. Instinctively, I know it’s him.

My dragon.

I picture his giant body, purple and black with scales like jewels, and my heart races. Beautiful, enchanting, and deadly.

He wasn’t dead though.

A touch couldn’t bring something back to life. As a huntress who has taken much life and seen my fair share of death, I know this.

But I did touch him and know what that means. Anxiety and excitement fill me. I touched him. Even if it had been by accident. Haime touched him too.

Though I know I’m the one who’s bonded.

He’s mine. He’s alive, and he’s mine. All that I’ve heard from Aida and Issa about their dragon bonds comes crashing back to me. That the dragon no longer exists, but a male does in its place. If I die, he dies, and if he dies, I die. That there is no way to sever the bond, and we’re now mated for life, whether we want to be or not.

I could have a family. My body shakes. I could have the adoring gaze of a child looking up at me. Me. Because I would be its mother. I could be wanted, truly wanted, and not just another female of the tribe, a woman to be overlooked because she’s only as good as what she can provide for others.

I’m almost stupefied into excitement, hope—and a fair amount of renewed worry—when another one of my dragon man’s pained groans reaches my ears. My hand clutches my chest where the heat within builds.

I—I can’t leave him behind.

I physically can’t. The thought disturbs me. All I want to do is journey deeper into this dark, dangerous hole and find him, even if I die in the process. I take a step forward, now that I’m paying attention, I know exactly what direction he’s in. It must be the bond.

Zaeyr and Aida are never more than thirty feet away from each other, and only when one of them is chasing after their children. They told me once that it’s unnatural to be any farther apart, like a deep, uncomfortable coldness takes hold inside. And that pain has only worsened over the years.

Spanning my arms out, I partially crouch and make my way deeper, listening intently for more groans.

I come across rocks and boulders and stub my foot numerous times with pieces that have fallen. The ground is no longer level. I slide my feet forward carefully so as not to accidentally trip into a gap.

Another groan reaches my ears. My heart quickens, and I struggle to keep my safe, slow pace. An aroma fills my nostrils, heady and wild. Like what a midnight storm might smell like, if it had a smell. I breathe it in and nearly moan from delight.

His scent is intoxicating.

The warmth in my chest descends to my sex. I clench. It does so with every inhale. My mind muddles. I shouldn’t want to mate right now… but I desperately do. I press my hands to my pelvis, eager to reach under my skirt and seek relief—but I stop myself.

What’s wrong with me? I breathe in the male’s midnight storm again, unable to do otherwise. I grow wet, and my arousal slickens my thighs. In moments, I’m dripping and ready.

He could be grotesque—a monster—and I’d still want to mate him, just from the way he smells. As if his male spice was created for me and me alone.

And as if he knows what’s happening to me, he groans again, and this time it’s long and winded. His breaths have quickened like my heart. I listen to him as I drop to my knees and crawl forward.

My hands find him,