To Wake a Dragon - Naomi Lucas Page 0,23

worth the nightmares?

I hand him one of my rations. “I don’t want you to starve,” I whisper, changing the subject.

He looks at my offering.

“Wait!”

I set the meat aside and wrap my arms around him. He stiffens in my embrace.

He growls. “Let me do this. I will sit up on my own.”

“You can sit up all you want later.” I’m used to dealing with kids. “For now, I will help you while you heal.”

Positioning myself behind him, I haul him into a sitting position, but when I start to let go, he drops. Indignant growls and curses fill my ears but I ignore them. Looking around I find a boulder a few feet behind him. Getting a better grip, I brace and drag him to the rock.

A few minutes—and lots of grunting—later, he’s propped up against it.

Catching my breath and ignoring the renewed pressure in my head, I drop beside him and wipe the sweat off my brow. I’m strong, but he’s still large for a human and much bigger than I am. And he’s got those tails, and those horns, I moan. Horns I want to explore thoroughly.

Maybe even lick.

When I catch his eye, he’s angry.

“I will not get any stronger if I am not given the opportunity to challenge myself,” he snaps.

“You will not get better at all if you starve to death.” I grab the rations. “Dragons may not have to eat for long periods, but humans must eat every day. You’re human now. Mostly.” I put the dried meat in his hand. His fingers wrap around it.

“Thanks to you,” he grumbles.

There’s a surge of guilt. “I—”

“I am moving again, thanks to you. I have not yet decided if that is a good thing. Though I never thought I would be bonded, lose my immortality, or my power, now I am able to perish with a voice again.”

I can’t tell if he’s mad at me or not. “I am sorry, regardless.”

“You know of the dragon’s curse,” he states it more than asks.

“Yes.”

“Then why did you not claim me when you first came upon me?”

“First came—” my eyes flick to the jewel on his brow, and I watch the puffs of dark smoke coming from it “—upon you?”

“I heard you, felt the warmth of your fire stick. You were by my hindleg, then you were before me. Why did you not claim me?”

“It didn’t feel right.”

“Any human would bind a dragon if given half the chance. The bond does more than mate us for life, it also strips away our threat.”

“I thought you were dead,” I murmur.

His brows arch. “And you did not want to make sure?”

I shake my head, then wince. I rub the sore, swollen flesh at the back of my head. Drazak’s eyes narrow, and I see through the corner of my vision his hands shake and clench.

“You were beautiful,” I tell him, ignoring his reaction. “I’ve… searched for you for so long that I’d given up. I no longer had hope that I’d see a dragon one day, let alone bond with one… You were beautiful, and I—I didn’t want to change that. I couldn’t, not like that. Not so my hopes could come true. It felt wrong. It felt selfish.”

“A mistake, human.”

“Mistake?”

“For not taking the opportunity when it presented itself.”

“And you would have? If the roles were reversed?”

He glances at the meat in his hand. “Do you want to be bound to me?”

Taken aback, I stare at him. It’s a question I don’t know how to answer. Yes, I want to scream, but then the part of me that approaches with caution—with every possible outcome already played out in her head—hesitates. “I’d given up,” I repeat, as if that’s an answer.

His jaw ticks. “Why?”

“Because only the lucky among my tribe are given the honor to mate.”

“And you did not have that honor?”

His questions make me uncomfortable. No one else ever cared enough to ask these questions, and I don’t know what to do about it. As a protector of Sand’s Hunters, all my tribe cares about is that I perform my duties and that I remain healthy enough to continue doing so.

Perhaps that’s why I love our children so much. I gaze down at my hands, feeling my chest squeeze. The tribe’s children are so sweet and innocent and loving. You never had to wonder if you were loved by them. You knew it the moment they wrapped their little arms around you with laughter.

“No. I did not have that honor,” I say.

Drazak lifts