Page 3 of Claimed by the Savage Dragons

‘There isn’t time.’

Blondie rolls her eyes and beckons me. I look at the guard, but he’s showing no signs that anything’s going to be happening imminently, so I sigh and plonk myself down in front of her.

She whistles low when the brush gets stuck. ‘Never seen hair thick as yours,’ she mutters.

‘Yeah,’ I mutter. ‘Good luck making it look better than this.’

She snorts. ‘I told you I have skill.’

She begins to brush it, one frizzy, gnarled section at a time, twirling each piece around her fingers, separating them and forming them into their own sleek curls.

I glance back at her, more than a little shocked.

‘Skill is an understatement,’ I tell her. ‘I didn’t know this could be done with it.’

She gives a small smile and keeps it up until my mane of hair is laying down in almost sleek curls. When she’s finished, she gives a sigh. ‘Best I can do without any oil.’

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘But why?’

I look around at the other five. ‘Why did you make everyone look as pretty as you could? What if they don’t choose you because of it?’

Blondie glances at the guard and leans closer to me. ‘I have a man who owns a homestead in the west. He got a message to me before I was taken from home, and he told me he’d find me at the crossroad with the black sign. I let him know that I’d find a way to meet him there no matter what. Well, we passed that crossroad about an hour before we made camp here. I won’t be here to get picked. As soon as those dragons show, I’m running.’

‘What if they catch you?’

‘They won’t. But maybe you could help me like I’ve helped you.’

I nod. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

She nods and gives me a wink. ‘Thanks, Red.’

‘They’re here!’

My heart leaps into my chest and I clutch Blondie’s hand. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Harriet. You?’

‘Mari.’

‘Well, good luck, Mari.’

‘You too, Harriet.’

The human stench makes me want to burn them all.

‘They’d smell better cooked,’ Orin, my student, mutters and I snort.

‘I agree.’

But orders are orders, and the Commander gave me the task of finding the Tribute. A political move, knowing him. It’s been a few years, but we don’thaveto take a new one. We already have local humans in the mountain with us. As far as I’m concerned, even one of them is too many. More trouble than they’re worth. They scuttle around and cower before us. They cry and beg and wail and make silly little squeaks like mice or rats. Some of my brethren fuck them, but I’ve never seen the appeal myself. Well, not in a very long time anyway. I stay away from them as much as I can. If Dreythos hadn’t ordered this of me, I wouldn’t be anywhere near these vermin.

Thankfully, over the past few hundred years or so they’ve practically wiped themselves out. And, out of theirmutually assureddestruction, my kind have flourished in ways we hadn’t since the advent of our oldest tales.

We land close to the camp, mostly because I enjoy seeing the humans run around and quail like ants in a disturbed nest.

I hear more than one human female scream and I roll my eyes as I stomp into their circle. I half notice one of the herd break away and lunge into the forest. A couple of the males go after her, but I pay them no mind.

‘The leader?’