Free Dragons Don't Love by D'Elen McClain Page B

my
lips for the first time. His taste intoxicated me and my head went
dizzy. The minute his mouth pressed against mine, I knew. I knew I
would beg. On claiming day when I tried to kill him, I had no
intention of begging for my life. Begging for his body is somehow
worse and goes against everything I stand for. Even so, I will give
in.
    Each night after the door
to my room is barred seems endless with so many thoughts keeping me
from sleep. I think about the years ahead of me. I will never see
my parents again and the sadness is a dull ache. As the claimed bride, at
least I know they will be cared for. But I will grow old and the
dragon will stay as he is now. This thought terrifies
me.
    My parents love one another. My mother
could have left my father and found another man to support us when
he was injured. She refused. I remember how beautiful she was back
then. A hard life of doing my father’s work as well as her own
makes her appear older than she is. Then she smiles at my father
and the years fall away.
    I want that kind of love. I can’t fool
myself, though. Two haggard humans a few years apart in age are one
thing—fifty years between a human and a dragon completely different
once I’m wrinkled and gray. How did his previous brides stand it? I
wonder if they became a burden to him.
    Then there’s the fact that he won’t
use my name. For this reason, I refuse to use his. I sometimes use
the term ‘sir’ when we train. My go-to is simply ‘dragon’. I can’t
help a small sigh escaping as I think of our daily training
sessions. He never wears a shirt. His chest and arms are
magnificent as he wields a sword. It’s quite hard to concentrate
while his muscles flex and ripple with each movement. I’ve had
several near-fatal accidents when my daydreams take me away from
the sword play. He gets so angry even though it’s entirely his
fault.
    Mostly, I’m sick of the constant inner
turmoil that eats me alive. I know I will give in and lose his
game. It’s just a matter of time.
    A knock at the door startles me. The
man I’ve been mooning over enters. He carries a dinner tray and I’m
disappointed that I will not be visiting his rooms. His outer rooms
are covered in the most glorious works of art, sparkling jewels,
and pieces of gold finery. The mass number of items intrigues me
greatly. But this isn’t the reason I long to enjoy our meal there.
It’s in those rooms that he touches me and my loneliness recedes.
Only once has he touched me here in my rooms and that was the first
day. Why is he doing this to me today of all days?
    He doesn’t speak as he rests the tray
on the table and returns to the door. He lifts something from
outside and I gasp when I see it. My very own halberd. My heart
races and I practically jump from foot to foot at the sight. I must
fight not to run over and grab it.
    He watches me with knowing eyes and a
slight grin on his lips. “It will fit your hand perfectly and we
will begin training with it tomorrow.” He rests it on the table by
the tray without taking his gaze from mine. “Come here, bride.” I
don’t hesitate. I walk the few steps separating us. “Turn around,”
he says in a low voice that sends chills through me.
    I’m now wearing the first training
outfit he gave me. He’s dressed in the pants he calls jeans. No
shirt and his hair is hanging free. I turn and his hands go
immediately to my hips. My breath hitches as he leans in and
breathes along the skin from my shoulder to my neck. Without
touching anything but my hips, his lips, a hair’s breadth from my
skin, move up to my ear and his whisper makes me feel faint, “I
want you to beg.”
    He releases me and leaves the room.
For the first time, he doesn’t bar the door or even close it. I
take several deep breaths and finally look beneath the napkin that
covers the food tray. It’s dinner for one.
    We are both so stubborn. Eating is one
of his rules, so I eat. I’m not hungry and only manage half the
food