Page 6 of The Dragon King's Pregnant Mate

"—third group this week," one grumbles. "Running from the winter, they say. More likely running from the law."

"Long as they pay, who cares?" The second voice is deeper, with an accent I don't recognize. "Gold spends the same, deserter or criminal."

They pass out of earshot, but their words send a chill through me that has nothing to do with the cold. This is no simple village—it's a waypoint for those fleeing south, probably run by draconic mercenaries who prey on desperate travelers.

There are likely bounty-hunters here. Vicious and cruel, and they would doanythingfor the price on my head.

I need to get out of here.

I should run. Should turn back into the forest and try my luck elsewhere. But my legs tremble with exhaustion, and my vision swims whenever I move too quickly. I need real food, real rest, or neither of us will survive much longer.

I think of my child. It’s the only thing stronger than the fear.

Keeping to the shadows, I work my way around the edge of the village. Most of the buildings are dark, but one structure stands apart from the rest—larger, with warm light spilling from its windows and the sound of voices drifting from within. An inn, or something like it. If I'm careful, maybe I can—

A hand clamps over my mouth from behind.

I try to scream, to call my magic, but exhaustion has left me slow. Strong arms drag me backward, lifting me off my feet. I kick and thrash, but my captor is immensely strong.

"Well, well," a voice purrs in my ear, hot breath reeking of smoke and meat. "What do we have here?"

He spins me around, and I find myself staring into eyes that glow like banked coals. A shifter. His human form is massive, all muscle and scars, but I can see the dragon beneath his skin—scales rippling just beneath the surface, smoke curling from his nostrils with each breath.

More figures emerge from the shadows, surrounding us. All shifters, I realize with growing horror. Their eyes gleam with predatory interest as they circle closer.

"Caught this one sneaking around the perimeter," my captor announces, giving me a shake that makes my teeth rattle. "Another runaway from Fort Caddell, by the looks of her. Adeserter.They’ll pay well for her."

"Please," I gasp, trying to sound appropriately terrified. It's not difficult. "I'm just looking for shelter. I have coin—"

"Oh, we'll take your coin," one of the others laughs. He's smaller than the first, but his smile is cruel. "Among other things."

The others join in his laughter. I count six of them total, all bearing the telltale signs of their draconic nature—glowing eyes, too-sharp teeth, incredible height and bulk, smoke rising from their skin despite the cold.

My captor drags me toward a gap between buildings, away from any prying eyes. Fighting hard, I kick up gusts of snow. Dark laughter echoes around me. I struggle harder, panic rising as I realize what they intend. The child's magic pulses inside me, responding to my fear, but I dare not release it. If they discover who I really am…

"Feisty little thing," one comments as I manage to land a kick to his chest. "I like that. More fun when they fight."

"Been a while since we had any entertainment up here," another adds. "These winters get so boring."

Bile rises in my throat. My fear is so intense my head spins with it.

They force me back, back, until my shoulders hit rough stone. We've reached the edge of the village, where a rocky outcrop rises from the snow like a broken bone. The shifters spread out in a semicircle, cutting off any escape.

"Now then," my original captor says, reaching for my cloak. "Let's see what else you're hiding under there, little mouse."

I could kill them. Could let my power loose, freeze them where they stand. But using that much magic in my weakened state might harm the child, or I might pass out and freeze in the snow. Besides, the moment I reveal myself as more than human, word will spread. Arvoren will know exactly where to find me.

But as rough hands stretch out toward me, I realize I might not have a choice.

The first shifter's scales ripple fully to the surface, his face elongating slightly as he lets his dragon nature show. Heat radiates from him as he leans closer, smoke curling from between sharp teeth.

"Don't worry," he growls, the words distorted by his partial transformation. "We'll make it quick. Probably."

Something inside me snaps. Damn my worries and fears. The gods only know I have nothing left to be afraid of.

I am Calliope Windward, last of my bloodline, Queen of Kaldoria for better or for worse. I have faced worse than these creatures. Have survived worse.

Willsurvive worse.