Page 31 of Ensnared

“You did that.” He’s frowning, but I notice that he didn’t even flinch.

“Don’t tell me that didn’t hurt you. I know it did.”

“You humans can’t mask your pain at all. You show every single thing you feel.”

I straighten. “I’m tough, actually.”

“Tough for a human is like scary for a fluff dog.”

“Fluff dog,” I say. “I like it. I think we’ll name her that.”

“You can’t keep that thing.” He stands up. “I forbid it.”

I stand up, too. “Well, I counter forbid it.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Then you’ll have to make me give her up.” What am I saying? We can’t give up Fluff Dog. Not now that she has a name.

He glares, and then I feel it. He’s focusing on me and he’s pushing his will at me.

I bat it away.

He grunts—he felt that one.

I can’t help my smug grin. Earth dragon or not, I feel like this guy isn’t humbled nearly often enough. Maybe because he’s the prince earth dragon or whatever. “I’m keeping Fluff Dog.”

He points at the wall. “Turn around.”

“Excuse me?” I shake my head. “I refuse.”

“You keep refusing everything,” he says. “The more you do that, the more you incentivize me to train enough to learn how to control you by force.”

“I think something about training me scares you, so I don’t think it works as a threat. Sorry.”

So fast that I can barely register his movements, he spins me around and tears the back of my shirt, exposing the back of my left shoulder. “Hey!” I shout. “What are you doing?”

Are shoulders, like, erotic to dragons? Ew.

I turn to look over my bare shoulder, but he’s not doing anything gross. He’s just staring at my shoulder with what looks an awful lot like relief. “What?”

“It’s my mark.” He sighs. “It’s just my mark.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you’re ensnared, the magic of the dragon who bonds you sears a mark into the back of your shoulder, like so.” He points.

I remember the burning feeling. It disappeared so quickly, and I haven’t had a proper bath, so I never noticed. Not that I would have examined the back of my shoulder in any case. I grab the top of my shoulder with my right hand and pull hard, craning my neck at the same time.

It’s there—something golden. It’s like a circle with some kind of flower inside of it. “What is it?”

“It’s a lotus blossom,” he says. “It symbolizes the cycle of life and death that the earth blessed facilitate.”

“Your buddies were pretty intent on the death part,” I say.

“Well, you managed to beat them.”

I feel a little bad about that, but not guilty. I won’t feel guilty when I watched that silver psychopath fry family after family for no reason at all. “I am sorry I killed them.”