Page 95

He gently swats my arms away. “The temple lies not far,” he rumbles, pointing toward the towering trees behind him as though I possess the superhuman ability to see through solid forest.

“‘ Not far ’ for you, but it could be a fortnight for me,” I grumble, glancing toward the dense foliage with a pang of dread... not to mention missing his lovely heat.

“Besides, I can’t walk!” I blurt, gasping dramatically and clutching at my thighs.

“This is your fault, you know,” I add, wincing for effect.

Though truthfully, the lovely ache from last night’s.

.. activities still lingers pleasantly. “I am from a ‘ lesser species ,’ after all,” I purr, my tone dropping into a sultry lilt.

Dracoth’s piercing gaze locks onto mine, his expression unreadable as he seems to weigh every ounce of my being—and probably every hair follicle too.

I hold my ground, staring back with unwavering determination, until—bam!—his massive hand clamps around my hips. In one smooth motion, he lifts me as though I’m weightless, pressing me firmly against his broad, furnace-like chest.

“Yay!” I squeal, throwing my arms around his neck in triumph.

His heat is intoxicating, wrapping around me like the world’s coziest blanket.

“Hmm, my red dragon,” I murmur, nestling deeper into the crook of his arm.

I shift and squirm until I’m perfectly comfortable, like I belong here—because I do.

Dracoth marches through the dense, reddish woods like a giant murder man on a mission. Hardly surprising, really. I mean, he’s going to marry me. If anything, he should be going faster.

His head sweeps every direction, following every eerie bark or wild call echoing from the shadowed bushes and skyscraper-sized trees.

The scary noises don’t bother me though.

I have Dracoth, my unstoppable guardian.

My heart flutters as I squeeze tighter into his embrace; even his stomping bobo-the-clown feet and his wind tunnel breathing soothe me.

Suddenly, he stops—abruptly, like a car slamming the brakes. I jolt upright, rudely torn from the edge of a cozy nap.

“Hey!” I protest, rubbing at my bleary eyes.

Maybe he should come with a seatbelt?

Dracoth kneels, his massive hand brushing the blackened char of burned grass. A heavy wave of emotion slams into me through our bond—anger, shame, regret—a potent cocktail simmering like the heat he constantly radiates.

My breath hitches. “What’s wrong?” I ask, scanning the area.

Scorched earth stretches before us, wide patches of red grass burned away to reveal singed soil. High in the trees, jagged grooves claw into one side, while others look melted, their edges burned and eerily trimmed with smooth blue. My stomach tightens at the sight.

“What the hell happened here?”

“My shame,” Dracoth mutters, his voice a low rumble. His head lifts, taking in the wreckage like he’s seeing spooky ghosts.

I wait for him to say more, but silence settles between us like a heavy fog.

“That’s it? Just ‘ shame’ ?” I let out a sigh, fingers stroking the rubbery body of the too-cute Todd for comfort. “We really need to work on your expression, Dracoth.”

“It is nothing,” he insists, standing abruptly. Rubbing blackened ash, which crumbles between his clawed fingers, carried away on the light breeze whispering through the forest.

“Oh, come on,” I press, sensing the deep churn of unresolved angst in our bond. “There’s a whole lot of Mr. Frowny Face energy for something that’s ‘ nothing .’”

His brows furrow, deep shadows darkening his expression. The tension in his body coils tight, and then his voice rumbles like gravel: “ Krogoth .”

My stomach flips as his entire frame stiffens, muscles rippling with fury. His fangs gleam in the dim light, bared in a snarl.

“Here,” he growls, sweeping his arm over the scorched battlefield. “Here he dared to shame me!” His roar echoes, shaking the ground beneath us. “Dared to name me a defeated warrior—as if he had earned the right!”

His entire body trembles, the strange red mist wafting from his eyes like smoke from an erupting volcano. My stomach twists with a flicker of fear at the sight of his unbridled rage, so close, so overwhelming. But then I remind myself: he’d never hurt me. We’re partners, destined to rise together.

“It was here he cut the hair from my head,” Dracoth growls, the words like molten iron. His hand brushes through his short crimson hair, his expression contorted with disgust. “ ME! An undefeated warrior without equal, forced to wear this unearned shame for decades!”

His rage roars through our bond like a blazing inferno.

The raw hatred etched into his sneering, trembling face pulls at something primal in me.

Strangely, my own breaths quicken, fists clenching as his fury spreads into my chest. A piece of his wrath at this so-called High Chieftain Krogoth now lives inside me.

Him and this woman, Rocks. Whoever she is, the bitch will pay.

They’ll all pay for what they’ve done to my Dracoth, my red dragon.

Gently, I reach out and stroke his face, my fingers trailing over skin rough as rock. “We’ll make them pay... I promise.”

His blazing eyes snap to mine, and the rage there softens, just slightly. “We’ll make them all pay for hurting us,” I add, my voice trembling with raw emotion from years of neglect, betrayal, and abuse crashing over me.

“Yes,” he rumbles, his eyes blazing like twin fires.

The intensity of his gaze, the feeling of our destinies entwined, sends my heart soaring like the dark purple clouds above us.

I’ve never had anyone truly on my side before—not my negligent parents, not my backstabbing bitch friends.

Only Dracoth. And I’ll never push him away again. He’s mine. Together, we’re unstoppable.

The ultimate power couple.

“Yes!” Dracoth snarls, his fury now laced with something brighter—triumphant joy.

“With you at my side, I’ll crush Krogoth and anyone who dares to stand in our way!

” He beats a fist against his broad chest, his gaze growing distant, as if seeing the future—our future.

“They’ll burn in Arawnoth’s flames. All will know that I am the rightful War Chieftain—that we are ordained by the Gods to rule. ”

“Dracoth...” My voice is barely a whisper, my heart brimming with emotion. His words are a perfect echo of my own thoughts.

His lips crash against mine, hungrily devouring me like a beast, and I’m his super adorable prey. Dracoth’s heat pours into me, his mouth hot and demanding, his tongue claiming mine with the same unstoppable force that defines him.

A groan escapes me as I melt into his embrace, tingles rushing through my body, setting every nerve alight.

But the moment shatters with a sharp bark from above.

We break apart, panting, our heads snapping upward. High in the canopy, that strange bird-dog creature from earlier circles, its annoying yelps echoing through the trees. It’s like the universe’s most obnoxious chaperone.

“Ugh. What does it want this time?” I mutter, frowning as the strange bird-dog creature barks overhead.

Dracoth’s gaze remains fixated above. “Come. The Gods grow impatient.”

Not like I have a choice.

Dracoth strides forward, carrying me deeper into the dense forest. To my amazement, the massive flying creature stays ahead of us, swooping through the trees as if leading the way.

“That’s so random,” I mutter under my breath, unable to take my eyes off the fuzzy, feathered monster. Its movements are surprisingly graceful for something so bizarre and big.

I reach up to tussle Dracoth’s short crimson locks, giggling as the silky strands slip between my fingers.

“You know, Dracoth, I actually like your short hair,” I say. “It suits you. I just assumed it was your style. All these other guys look like retired Hell’s Angels or something.”

Dracoth trudges on, his massive claws slicing cleanly through the occasional thick patch of foliage. “Hell’s Angels?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

I sigh with impatience. “There a...” I stop myself from saying biker gang . Chances are, the hole-in-the-ground clan doesn’t even know what a bike is. “A gang of tough guys.”

“Junkers,” Dracoth growls, spitting the word like black, unsweetened coffee, his claw sweeps becoming more aggressive.

“Yeah, something like that... I think,” I say hesitantly, wondering if he means those creepy, scavenger aliens that attacked our ship.

“One day, my hair will be as long as my father’s,” he says after a pause, his intense eyes meeting mine. “Hair my Mortakin-Kis can be proud of.” He nods, as if sealing a solemn vow.

Sweet words, but I don’t care about hair... well, except my own.

I suppress a giggle at the silliness of Klendathian customs. “That’s all very nice, Dracoth, with the hair and all. But what’ll really make me proud is when you get us to the top.” My voice sharpens, challenging him as I fix him with a stern look. “That’s what matters.”

As his wife, it’s up to me to keep him strong, remind him of his obligations. You know what they say: behind every great man, there’s a greater woman.

Dracoth’s gaze lingers on me, his expression unreadable. Normally, his silence would irritate me, but through our bond, his sense of resolve stokes higher—my words taking root, his determination burning brighter.

I squeeze myself closer against his chest, loving that he listens to me, that he’s strong enough to face his burdens instead of running from them. Not like those loser ex-boyfriends I wasted my time on.

He doesn’t respond, his focus returning to the path ahead, his claws slicing through the underbrush with ease. Above us, the bird-dog circles back, letting out another high-pitched bark as if chiding us for being too slow.

“Alright, alright, we’re coming!” I call after it, rolling my eyes.

The forest grows quieter as we follow. The dense foliage thins with every step, the vibrant red leaves giving way to patches of bare earth. A strange stillness settles over the air.

“Dracoth, do you feel that?” I whisper, the hairs on my arms standing on end. There’s a weight here, pressing down on us, like the world itself is holding its breath.

He grunts in agreement, his strides slowing. “The Gods are near.”

The trees finally part, revealing a wide, unnaturally clear ring of land. My jaw drops as I take in the sight before us.

The Temple of Lanaisor rises like a monolith from the barren ground.

My eyes trace the spiraling central tower at the building’s heart, so immensely tall it reaches such heights that it vanishes into the clouds above.

Its moss-covered statues smile serenely, as if welcoming us into their ancient embrace.

The intricate stone patterns of its windows catch the faint light filtering through the purple clouds above, casting eerie yet beautiful shadows across the clearing.

“Whoa,” I breathe, the sheer presence of the place stealing the words from my mouth. It’s not just enormous—it’s alive, pulsing with an energy that’s both primal and ancient.

Dracoth stops, jostling me, his massive frame stiff as his eyes roam the temple. “Time to embrace our destiny,” he rumbles, his voice low and reverent.

High above, the bird-dog lets out one final bark, circling the soaring tower before perching on one of the mossy statues, its head tilted as if expecting us to follow.

“Well,” I say, taking a deep breath to steady myself. My heart pounds with excitement. “What are we waiting for?”