Page 5 of Davoren (Dragon Master Daddies #1)

N o.

I couldn’t be his. Couldn’t escape from prison only to become someone else’s property.

I wrenched my hand back, stumbling away until volcanic stone bit into my spine, and immediately regretted it. The mark on my shoulder screamed its protest—a living thing denied its mate, its match, its mirror-soul made flesh.

"No." The word came out raw, torn from a throat already hoarse from screaming.

I pressed harder against the cave wall, feeling shards of obsidian catch and tear what remained of my silk dress.

The chains around my wrists—the ones he hadn't melted yet—rattled against the stone like accusatory whispers. "I am no one's property."

Davoren remained where he stood, hand still extended, watching me with those impossible ember eyes. Patient. Ancient. Amused, even, which only stoked my fury higher.

"Not my father's to sell." Each word cost me.

The mark pulsed with every syllable, sending waves of heat cascading through my body that made my knees threaten to buckle.

I locked them, refusing to show weakness.

"Not Solmar's to buy." Another pulse, stronger this time.

My vision swam at the edges. "And not yours to claim. "

The last word barely made it past my lips before the mark's protest against my rebellion sent me sliding down the wall. Only stubborn pride kept me from crying out. My shoulder felt like someone had pressed a brand to it—not the sharp, clean pain of burning flesh, but something deeper.

Soul-fire.

Essence-ache.

Davoren's expression shifted then, amusement bleeding away to reveal something older, darker, carved from millennia of existence. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of mountains forming, of civilizations rising and falling while he remained unchanged.

"You misunderstand the nature of bonds, little one."

Little one. As if I were a child throwing a tantrum rather than a woman fighting for her freedom. My hands clenched, the broken chains jangling.

"This is not ownership." He took a step closer, and my traitorous body swayed toward him despite every mental command to stay still. The mark sang at his proximity, a siren song of belonging that made me want to scratch it out of my skin. "It is far more absolute than that."

"How comforting," I managed through gritted teeth. "So I'm not property, just . . . what? Cosmically shackled? Divinely imprisoned?"

Another step. The air between us shimmered with heat that had nothing to do with the Fire Wastes and everything to do with the thing burning in my shoulder.

"The bond does not recognize the human concepts of freedom and captivity." His words rumbled through the cave, through stone, through bone. "It simply is. You can no more deny it than you can command your heart to stop beating."

"Watch me." But even as defiance shaped my lips, my body betrayed me. The need to touch him, to close the distance between us, pulled at me like invisible chains far stronger than the decorative ones I wore.

"Defy me if you wish. If you can." Now he stood close enough that I could see the patterns in his copper-dark skin shift and swirl like cooling lava.

Close enough to smell smoke and spice and something wild that my hindbrain recognized as dragon.

"Test the boundaries. Push against the limits.

" His hand hovered near my shoulder, not quite touching.

"But know that each act of rebellion carries consequences. "

"Threats?" I forced a laugh that sounded more like breaking glass. "How traditional. How disappointingly human of you."

"Not threats. Simply truth." His fingers moved to hover over the mark, still not touching, and even that almost-contact sent lightning skittering across every nerve.

"The mark allows me to bend your will if needed.

To ensure your safety when you would choose harm.

To override your desires when they conflict with your wellbeing. "

The words hit like cold water—no, like molten metal poured down my throat. My fury, which had been banking like coals, roared back to full flame.

"Then you're no better than—"

"But, little one, I am also bound."

The interruption came sharp, final, with a tone that suggested this truth cost him something to admit.

Before I could process it, he turned toward the cave entrance and gestured with one hand.

His arrival had obliterated the channel I’d squeezed through.

In its place, a gaping entrance that let the sun and heat in.

"Watch."

The sound came first—leather and scale and wind.

Then shadows blotted out the afternoon sun as three adult drakes landed at the cave mouth with impacts that shook dust from the ceiling.

Not the babies I'd hidden with. These were fully grown, each the size of a horse, with teeth designed for rending and claws meant for killing.

Their golden eyes fixed on me with predatory intensity. The blood scent. My blood, painting the cave floor, soaking into my torn dress, calling to them like a dinner bell.

Davoren's entire body went rigid. The mark on his shoulder—our mark—flared so bright it illuminated the cave better than any torch. The light revealed every detail of the drakes' scarred hides, their flared nostrils, the intelligence in their eyes that was cunning but not wisdom.

"I cannot let them harm you." The words seemed dragged from him, each one a confession.

"Cannot step aside. Cannot choose my own freedom over your life.

" He stood between me and death made flesh, and I could see the tension in every line of his body.

Not the readiness of a warrior preparing for battle, but the resignation of someone bound by chains they never chose.

"Even if you commanded me to let them pass, I would be compelled to refuse.

The mark would override my will, just as it can override yours. "

His admission carried a weight that made my rebellion falter. We were both prisoners, then. Both caught in magic older than memory, deeper than choice.

One of the drakes snapped at the air, jaws clacking shut with the sound of a bear trap closing. The message was clear: the intruder who had invaded their nursery would not leave this cave alive.

Not unless she accepted the protection of something far more dangerous than any drake.

The monsters moved like death given form, all sinuous grace and barely leashed violence.

The largest one's jaw unhinged with a wet pop that made my stomach lurch, revealing row upon row of teeth designed by nature's cruelest architect.

Not just for killing—for shredding, tearing, ensuring their prey suffered before the end.

Behind it, the other two flanked wide, a hunting formation older than human civilization.

Davoren stepped fully between us, his back to me now, shoulders set in a line that spoke of absolute determination.

When he spoke, the melodic draconic language poured from his throat like smoke and honey, all rises and falls that made my bones vibrate with impossible harmonics.

The drakes responded immediately, not with submission but with increased aggression.

Hisses and clicks, wing displays that made them seem twice their already impressive size.

"What are they saying?" My voice came out steadier than I felt, which wasn't saying much.

"They demand justice." He didn't turn, keeping his attention fixed on the lead drake as it prowled closer. "You entered sacred nesting grounds. I destroyed their roost. The penalty has been the same for a thousand years."

"Let me guess. Death?"

"Death." A pause as the second drake snapped at the air, testing. "Or . . ."

The word hung between us like a blade balanced on its point. I pressed harder against the cave wall, feeling my own blood sticky between my shoulders and stone. "Or what?"

"Or witnessing my true form and accepting the bond's protection.

" Tension ran through every word, like he was confessing to some unforgivable sin.

"Once you see what I truly am, the mark completes its first binding.

You become . . . recognized. Protected by ancient law as one who belongs to dragonkind. "

"That doesn't sound so terrible—"

"No human has seen a Dragon Master's transformation and lived to speak of it.

" His shoulders drew tighter, if that were possible.

"We are not like them." He indicated the drakes with a gesture that somehow conveyed both kinship and vast separation.

"Not mindless beasts of instinct, driven by hunger and territory.

We are older, deeper, more terrible than your kind can comprehend. "

One of the flanking drakes tested his defenses, darting forward with jaws spread wide.

Davoren moved faster than my eyes could properly track, catching it by the throat just behind the jaw hinge.

The drake thrashed, hundred-pound body whipping like an angry snake, but his grip held firm.

Not crushing—just controlling. When he spoke to it, his voice dropped into registers that made my chest cavity feel hollow.

The drake went limp. Not dead, but submissive in a way that suggested absolute recognition of superiority. He released it, and it scrambled back to its position, golden eyes now wary where they'd been hungry.

"They're not backing down," I observed, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

"No. The eldest has lost two clutches to human raiders in the past season.

She will not bend on this. Ancient law is ancient law.

" Blood welled where the drake's claws had scored his forearm, three parallel lines that would scar if he were human.

But even as I watched, the wounds began to close. "You must choose quickly."

The eldest drake—the female—lowered her head. Not in submission but in preparation to charge. Muscles bunched beneath scarred hide. A predator preparing for the killing strike.