Page 20 of Ensnared (The Dragon Captured #1)

“I thought the strike blessed handled most of the defense,” I say.

He shrugs. “There are a few hundred of them. There are thousands of us, and they consider us expendable.”

“But why do you need humans at all?”

His smile is predatory. “We’ve found that the humans outside our perimeter hesitate to fire on other humans.”

Great. I’m training shields for his dragons—human meat shields. This gets better and better.

“Why do you do it?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Your own people don’t value you, so why do you keep working so hard for them?” If I could flip thousands of earth dragons to our side. . .

He meets my eyes. “It’s fine. Don’t feel sorry for us. It’s the way the world works.”

“We can change the world when it’s wrong,” I say. “In fact, it’s our duty to change it.”

His eyes dance. “Your naiveté is showing.”

“Maybe it is,” I say. “Or maybe I’m right, and you’re too afraid to admit it.”

“Your job is to prepare these humans to defend against an attack on the ground.”

“You want me to teach them to fight against other humans who might come and try to free them?”

Axel nods. “Exactly.”

“Is this a test?”

“You’re a fighter, Elizabeth. You’re being asked to prepare them to fight. Is that really so hard?”

I shrug. “It’s what I do,” I say. “I fight things, like stupid orders and stupid dragons.”

He rolls his eyes, but he looks tired. Actually, now that I’ve noticed it, he looks really tired, and when I search out the thread in my head, it feels. . .thin. Like it’s strained.

“Hey, are you okay?”

His brows draw together. “What do you mean?”

“I know you said dragons don’t sleep.”

“The blessed don’t sleep, that’s correct.”

“But you must need something, because it looks like you’re not getting it.”

He frowns. “You should be prepping your new soldiers.”

My fifty shiny, new humans are standing stock still in front of my house in lines of ten, staring at their feet, because that’s the order I gave them. But this feels like a conversation we should have. I can’t just have them stand around while I talk to Axel for an hour.

Since I’m supposed to make them into fighters.

. .I glance at them, and they all look reasonably fit.

I push a command to make them all do fifty pushups, fifty sit-ups, and fifty squats.

Three times. Talk about a great workout regimen.

They all have to do exactly as I push—their bodies won’t let them opt out.

I’m the best personal trainer ever created.

Unless, like, their hearts give out. I slide in a little caveat that if they feel ill, they can take a break.

But then , my attention goes back to my mud dragon prince.

“Alright, they’re all hard at work. Now tell me what’s wrong with you.

You can’t defend my family if you’re on the verge of a breakdown. ”

“I’m fine.” I mean, technically that’s true, but the signs of strain are also clear. I can’t really identify any of them specifically. He looks the same, but also, he doesn’t quite.

“You look tired,” I say. “If you were human, I’d say you need a nap.”

He tilts his head. “Are you worried about me?”

“As if,” I say. “I hope you’re tired. I hope you’re drained, and that all of you are really fraying here on earth.”

His half-smile’s back. “You do.”

“For sure,” I say. “But also, you don’t really look like you’re ready to protect anyone. I just want to make sure you’re fighting fit.”

“You going to make me do pushups and sit-ups?”

Unbidden, my mind cuts to an image of Axel without his shirt on—which I’ve never seen—doing sit-ups on the ground. His chest and arms are gleaming with sweat. His abs are contracting and his breathing’s heavy.

That sets my stupid heart racing. Ugh.

“You do want me to do sit-ups?” Axel’s lips twist.

Oh, no. Could he see that?

“It’s much easier when we’re close like this.” He smiles. “You still don’t get it. Any clear thought you have, if I’m focusing on it, I can see.”

I want to die. No, I want to die and be buried and never face him again.

“Do you find my human form attractive, Liz?” He steps closer, his eyes studying my face.

I swallow. “I just said you look tired, and then I was imagining you doing sit-ups, because that’s what I do when I need to prepare for something.”

“Maybe you should be doing them too,” he says. “You have things to prepare for as well.”

I drop immediately—anything for a distraction—and start doing sit-ups. He’s probably right, though. I’ve been slacking off, and that won’t do, not when I’m living among the enemy.

Only, instead of walking away like he usually does, Axel drops down next to me. “Like this?” The insane dragon starts doing sit-ups. “Oh, right.” He whips his shirt over his head and tosses it next to me.

“Where do your clothes go when you shift?” I’m still doing sit-ups, but barely. I’m too distracted to do them very fast.

He shrugs. “Clothes are almost insubstantial. I can make any that I want. Where do they go?” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”

Do they even exist? I stare at his shirt for a moment, glad to look at something other than the half-naked Adonis next to me. His body looks even better than it did in my mind’s eye, which is so unfair. It’s not like he’s worked to earn that body in any way.

I suppress a groan.

“Are they tiring for you?”

When I look back in his direction, Axel’s staring right at me. It’s clear that his mind is full of curiosity, not lust, and that’s pretty embarrassing. “Not at all.” I huff. “I’m fine.”

He keeps doing sit-ups, but he’s still staring at me, like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite work out. “We don’t sleep.”

“Yes,” I choke out. No matter how much I lie, it’s obvious that doing all these sit-ups is a little bit tiring. Meanwhile, Axel appears to be totally fine. “You said.”

“But every week or so, we do need to decompress.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your human bodies intake oxygen.” He’s still doing sit-ups, perfect ones, like he’s a robot and his body’s just performing its stated task. “Then they expel the unwanted carbon compound afterward.”

“Okay.” I am not going to quit doing sit-ups before he does, but I swear, my abs are burning. He has to quit soon, right?

“We need nitrogen and argon, both of which exist in your atmosphere, but unlike your breathing, which I only mimic in this form, we need a few moments of down time to process and properly synthesize what we intake. Our bodies are much more efficient and economical than yours, but we do have to essentially shut down for a short time.”

He needs a time out. “Then you should do that.”

“It’s been busy lately,” he says.

“Right, but I have to make time to breathe or I’ll die.” I’m really puffing right now. Maybe he’ll think I’m making my point.

Meanwhile, he’s not winded at all. He’s still doing sit-ups, perfectly, his beautifully sculpted abs contracting and releasing like poetry in motion. My fingers itch to reach out and touch them.

Which is idiotic. What’s wrong with me?

Other than the fact that my abs are about to set fire and burn down the entire block.

“It’s not like breathing,” he says. “I already said?—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He stops doing sit-ups then and leans toward me, grabbing my arms. “You need to stop. Your body’s overheated and your heart’s beating too fast.”

Thanks a lot for pointing that out, jerk. “I was making a point.” Yes, Liz. Spin this so you don’t look idiotic. “You’re being like me right now.” I wheeze. “You need to take a break.”

He looks down at his bare chest and abdomen, and I can’t help following his gaze. Gah, he’s beautiful. This is not helping my heartbeat drop back to a normal range. Even without sweating properly, he looks good. “Unlike you, I’m perfectly fine.”

“You know what I mean.”

He sighs. “I do, yes.”

“But?” I ask. “What’s stopping you?”

He blinks. “You really don’t know?”

I shake my head.

“You,” he says.