Page 44 of Courting the Dragon Prince

Why was Luther so temperamental? Why couldn’t he just listen and behave himself for one fucking second without storming, or flying, off?

Onyx shook his head.

The villagers headed back inside, talking excitedly. After several moments, Onyx followed. He needed to rent a room from Mistress Fisher.

ChapterTwenty

Luther snapped his wings.

Fuck Onyx Obsidian! Fuck him and his fucking arrogant bullshit face.

Luther flew onwards, getting further and further away from the village and the giant arsehole he was going to marry.

What had Luther been thinking, offering himself to Onyx like that?

Luther should have known better. The man was a giant prick. Onyx had made it clear that he regretted touching Luther earlier in the day. He’d called it a mistake. He’d tried to take it back.

And yet Luther had thrown himself at the earth elemental like a fool!

No doubt the man had prepared himself for bedding Luther on their wedding night. After all, it was his duty. And all Onyx cared about was his bloody duty.

But beyond that, he didn’t want to degrade himself and touch Luther.

“I really need a wash.”

Onyx’s words slapped Luther in the face.

Luther flapped his wings faster, eager to return to the monastery.

It shouldn’t have hurt. He shouldn’t feel rejected.

But they’d been getting along so well. Onyx had even complimented him. Several times. He had commended Luther after their victory over the giant snails. He’d seemed impressed with Luther’s abilities and quick thinking.

Then, in the inn, he’d smiled at Luther and treated him like an equal. He’d treated Luther like something other than some shit he’d trodden in that he desperately wanted to scrape off the bottom of his boot.

And for some reason, thinking he had earned the respect of a competent warrior like Onyx had meant something to Luther. It had made Luther feel like he wasn’t such a complete fuck-up. Like he wasn’t such a mess. Like he wasn’t a failure.

Warmed by the ale in his belly, the atmosphere of the cosy inn, and Onyx’s smile, Luther had thought how nice it would be to go upstairs and repeat their earlier activities.

He’d gotten lost in the fantasy of drawing more sounds of pleasure from Onyx, of taking his time to explore that muscular body, and then afterwards not having Onyx immediately regret it. Regret him.

But no. Onyx might have warmed to him somewhat. But he still thought himself too good for Luther.

Onyx wanted to keep his distance from Luther, who was so beneath him. He’d do his duty.Always his fucking duty!But that was it. He didn’t want Luther.

Luther huffed. Because that wasn’t true. Onyx did want him. Luther knew it. He could see the desire simmering in Onyx’s eyes in the lingering glances he cast Luther’s way.

Onyx wanted Luther. He just didn’t want to want him. He was disgusted with himself for desiring someone like Luther.

Well, fuck that rock-eating dickhead! Fuck him for thinking himself so much better than Luther. Fuck him for feeling like touching Luther would be demeaning himself.

It rankled. It made Luther’s blood boil and steam in his veins.

But that was fine with Luther. He didn’t need Onyx.

And honestly, Luther would just return to hating Onyx. He’d go back to the insults and barbs and constant resentment. Luther was much more familiar with hating Onyx than getting along with him, anyway.

The White Monastery appeared in the distance. Determined not to give another fuck about Onyx, he flew over the city and towards the upper monastery. He circled, flew low, and prepared to land.