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She saw the hate in his eyes and the disgust-filled crinkle in his snout. Amalia started trembling with fright at the look he gave her – like at any moment he might snuff her out with one of his large paws tipped with razor-sharp claws.

“I know you saw it. That the very essence of my being is magic, every bone, every drop of blood, every scale.” He lowered his head and showed her his rows of fangs. “Do you want to pull me apart now that you understand? Pull me apart like I am sure you know other Witches do to pixies, fairies, humans, animals, and anything living they can get their hands on?”

“Are you going to kill me?” Her voice was shaky, wanting to know if he healed her just so he could torture her himself.

He stepped closer while stretching his short neck across the pile of riches between them. “Answer the question, female.”

She curled away from him to hide. “N-no. I would never harm another.”

She felt his warm breath slide over her entire body like a curling gentle wave. Deep as they fluttered over her, they lifted her hair slightly and bellowed her dress around her.

“I know,” he finally said, and her eyes opened as some of the tension in her body lessened.

She quickly turned her head to him at his words to find two large silver eyes directly in front of her, just past her knees. His puffy snout was so close to her that if she moved at all, she’d touch it.

He pulled his head back to tower over her, but it wasn’t menacing. Instead, he appeared to be looking down at her with assessing eyes.

“I can tell you do not want to harm others for power.”

“Then why did you-?”

“Why did I ask? Simple. I wanted to know if the words you said to me on the steps of your cottage had changed. I can see that they have not.”

“How do you know I am not lying?” The dangerous words fell from her mouth, but she was so curious she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question.

“There is no cunning or scheming note to your eyes, no determination. All I see is confusion and fear.”

Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, and she turned away from his gaze to look at the room again. “If you hate Witches, then why am I here? All I remember is the stake.”

“Because you saved my life.” Her eyes fell back on him. “I had a blood debt to you, which is now paid in me saving your life and giving you the use of your legs back.”

Amalia held her feet to wiggle her toes against her palms.

“You took away my burns. How?”

“Old magic. Dragons are fire breathers, and we often hurt our own kind. We also war with each other for territory. Although our scales are impervious to fire, we needed the ability to heal ourselves of burns when in our human bodies. I used that same magic on you because your wounds were of fire.”

“Thank you,” she said while squeezing her feet. “If your blood debt is paid, does that mean you want me to leave your home?”

“No. You will never be allowed to leave my lair, unless it is by death.”

Her jaw dropped, and her hands stilled at his words.

“So, I am a prisoner? Why?”

His jowls lifted into a snarl.

“Because you just had to open your blasted eyes!” She squealed at his shout and then covered her head when he roared. He even stamped his large paw! “I have to keep a blasted Witch in my lair because you could not just stay unconscious for a few more minutes!”

He was so furious he roared to the ceiling this time.

While he was distracted, she darted for the exit with terror that he would turn on her. His tail slammed down in front of her before she could reach it. She turned to him wide-eyed when he growled in warning at her.

“You can try and run from my lair, but you will be unable to leave. There are wards in place to keep Witches out, and therefore, you in.”

“I do not want to be trapped in this cave with you!”

She jumped over his tail and darted down the tunnel, thankful more fire torches lined the walls.