Page 50
Story: The WitchSlayer
She is rather good at convincing me to get her way.
“Fine, you may go through them. Though, if I discover you are hiding items from me, I will be angered.”
She rolled her eyes. “And just where would I hide them?”
She had a fair point.
His eyes fell onto the locked chests in this room.I will have to remove those before she figures out how to get inside them.
“Have you read all of these?” She picked up a random book and flicked through it, bending it so that the pages would quickly brush against her thumb.
“Most, yes. Although I much prefer to leave the more... feminine books for females to read.”
“Do you often have females in your home then?”
He hadn't expected that question.
“Well, no. I do not have many visitors. Although Dragonesses have come to spend time with me and have sought me out.” He looked down the main tunnel of his home towards the entrance before bringing his focus back to her. “They do leave rather quickly when they realise I am ill-tempered.”
“They seek you out?” She tilted her head, her eyes trailing over his scaled face and chest. “Does that mean you are a handsome Dragon then?”
Rurik blinked, a frown forming across his features. “I believe I am quite magnificent. I thought that was obvious.”
He hadn’t expected her to laugh.
“You are very arrogant, are you not? You have many scars.”
He touched his face and let one of his claws slip against the large and deep scar across it. Then he gave a short and sharp growl, his lips curling back at her to reveal his fangs with lethal anger.
“We Dragons are not like you. Scarring shows that we have faced hardship and have prevailed. They do not make me ugly.”
How dare she be so impudent!
Instead of being upset that she’d deeply offended him, she gave a small smile.
“That is not what I said. I was only stating that you have them.” That was true, she never said his scars made him hideous. “I did not notice them when you were small, so I was curious about them. Will you tell me about some of them?”
She is curious about me?
He stared down at this odd woman who was allowing books to blanket her while they spoke.
“They are mostly tales of me killing your kind. I do not think these are things that you wish to hear of.”
“Once again, you are treating me as though I am some weak-hearted damsel.”
“You did cry.”
“Because I was upset!” She tossed one of the thick bound books at him. “I was terrified and hurting, you stupid bastard!”
He snapped his jagged teeth in her direction.
“I do not understand why you are angry.” She threw another book. “Do not throw things at me!”
“I am embarrassed, you silly idiot!” That’s when he noticed her cheeks were redder.
He didn’t care if she was embarrassed of the truth. With a huff, he turned from her. He didn’t like this conversation.
Stomping his heavy feet up the tunnel, he muttered to himself.She disrespects me in my own home.He wasn’t usually a tolerant being, and he’d needed to leave before he’d gotten any angrier.
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