Page 6 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

Sometimes, in the dorms, I’d touch myself under the blankets to fantasies of lavender eyes, rather than green, breaking every taboo.

As I’d circle my clit, faster and faster, I’d imagine that pale but powerful wrists were pinning my own down, while silky, silver curls brushed against my cheek and raven black wings rubbed between my thighs.

Panting, I’d run a finger up and down my folds, imagining that my finger was one of those wings, soft but firm. Then I’d slowly press a second finger into my pussy.

Already touch starved, I’d be wet with slick and lost to the sensation.

When finally I’d imagine Daire’s plush lips lowering to kiss mine…finally, my first kiss…almost touching…loving me…ecstasy would crash down on me.

Yet before I was kissed, every time, I’d drag my thin pillow over my face to muffle my cry as I came.

One morning, after I’d had an intense scene during the night, while I was getting dressed, I noticed that an older, surly maid was glaring at me.

I frowned. “What?”

“Fae lover,” she hissed. “Disgusting filth to dream about soft, feathered wings. I should tell the King.”

I froze .

I didn’t even know that I’d said that out loud.

“Go ahead.” I raised my chin. “And I’ll tell him about the way you eavesdrop and then spread rumors, including the one about the size of his knot. How do you think he’ll react?”

She paled. “Bitch.”

She meant fae lover as an insult. Except, to me, it’s not. I wish that I truly could be one. Shadow Fae are fascinating.

They are impossibly beautiful, magical, and cunning. Everything I admire.

Yet I have only seen Daire from a distance, powerful and deadly, as he instructed and led his army.

Will Daire think that I’m a wolf shifter spy? A plant by the dragons? Kill me on sight?

Or will he accept me as a refugee, escaping the cruel rituals of a dictatorship?

Either way, Fang Kingdom is no longer home for me, if it ever was.

I’ve been attacked, and I’ve defended myself. But an Omega who has killed an Alpha is against nature .

I would be hung.

I can’t stay here.

I turn determinedly toward the path again, crawling and dragging my damaged ankle behind me.

I haul the spear along with me. My muscles scream in protest.

On the alert, I listen out for the sound of Hilda’s pack behind me, feeling their phantom breath on my neck.

Please let her have been hunting alone .

Had she been seeking me out or Bard?

I raise my head with difficulty, catching a glimpse of the caves, which glitter with rubies pressed around the arched entrance.

“Thank the moon.” I push myself to my knees with a grunt.

Then I crawl to the entrance, wincing as pain shoots through my ankle.

The Winter Caves stand grandly at the top of the cliff. Moonlight streams across the glittering onyx and rubies, which mark the entrance.

Panting, I push myself to my feet, resting as much of my weight as possible on my right foot. Blood is now sodden in my left boot, dripping from my mangled ankle.

I’m lightheaded, swaying.

I limp into the cave in relief, gripping onto the wall to steady myself. I trace over the sharp gemstones that stick out of the walls like old friends. They lead the way through the labyrinth and are a reassuringly familiar sensation.

It’s silent in the caves.

I bite the inside of my cheek, one of my favorite tricks to ignore pain, as I try to walk too fast, excited to finally reach the boundary of Fang Kingdom.

Moonlight slithers through holes and cracks in the caves, which are like a giant honeycomb.

More sure of myself in my sanctuary now, I smile as I follow the path that I know better than any Shadow Wolf does.

Almost there .

I limp into the largest chamber, before the caves open onto the ledge, which overlooks the Unseelie Kingdom in the frozen north. Several archways lead out of it. I shiver, as cold air blows through them.

Ancient cave paintings are daubed on the walls. I stroke my fingers across them.

In the painting, the giant Golden Dragon from legend, the last and only emperor to have conquered every kingdom in the Shadow Realms, Emperor Hadrian, breathes fire.

With vast wings, Hadrian is both bestial and beautiful.

Fae, wolves, and vampires are all shown prostrating themselves, kneeling, fleeing, or being burned alive.

I’ve spent hours staring at this painting.

Who was it created by?

The fae? The wolves?

Is it triumphal, painted in victory by our ancestors? Simply a retelling of a legend? Or is it the recording of actual history?

A warning?

I steady the spear in my hand, lit by the starlight, which shafts through an opening in the roof.

I stare at the arched exit that leads to the ledge.

This is it.

One more step, and I’ll be leaving the kingdom of my birth for the first time and forever.

I take that step.

Only to stiffen in shock at the deep growl from the archway.

My guts churn with dread, as shadows flow like tar around the cave walls, before a large scarlet Shadow Wolf stalks into the cave, blocking the exit.

The wolf is like woven shadow and blood. His entire focus is on me.

I’m unable to look away. His pheromones are dangerously dominant. I’m drawn to him, as if pulled by a thread.

The Alpha’s woodsy pine and fir scent floods the cave.

“Bard,” I whisper.

I shake my head to clear it, stumbling away until my back hits the wall.

I’m intoxicated by Bard’s scent. Alone with him in the dark, it seems stronger than it ever has.

My Omega is clawing at me inside, begging for me to bare my neck in submission.

I raise my arms, as Bard stalks slowly toward me, never looking away. I don’t know if I’m warding him off or opening my arms in welcome.

My eyes are glassy. My mind is hazy.

If I die on Bard’s fangs tonight, then at least he’ll always remember me. It’ll be more than Hilda will get.

For a servant Omega, it should be an honor.

Then why are my eyes burning with tears?

I hoped…fuck it, I dreamed…that if anyone from the court would protect me during the Mate Hunt, then it would have been Bard.

The legend of the Golden Dragon is just a story, however, and there are no white knights.

Why would Bard be any different? Why am I special ?

I open my mouth to say something, but find that my throat is too dry to get out more than, “Alpha…”

As if I have any right to claim him as mine.

I would have killed any other wolf who attacked me tonight but I can’t kill a royal. It’s treason. Plus, maybe Bard doesn’t feel anything for me, but I’ve yearned after him for years.

He feels like he’s my Alpha, and that makes him my weakness.

I want to survive. On the other hand, how can I face my ancestors in the moon if I steal the life of a shifter like Bard to hold onto my own life?

Defeated, my fingers become lax around the spear. It clatters to the ruby encrusted floor. The wolf’s ears pin back at the sound.

I glance frantically around the cave. My breathing speeds up.

I make a desperate dash, despite my mangled ankle, attempting to break free and make it to another archway on the far side, but Bard instantly leaps.

I scream, as he lands on my back, driving me down to the ground. I bang my head on the floor, and for a long moment can do nothing but lay still, frozen in dazed shock.

Blood trickles down my temples, blinding me.

Bard is pinning me down with his weight, bruising me. His claws tear through my cloak. He raises his head and howls.

When his hot breath ghosts over the back of my neck, my eyes widen in terror. Then his fangs graze my skin .

Fuck.

This is it.

I’m not ready.

Please…

I don’t pray to the Shadow Gods. They can’t save me.

I ball my hands into fists, preparing to scream.

I’ve often wondered what it felt like to our enemies to be chased, hunted, and have their throats torn out.

I don’t recommend it.

Except, when Bard’s teeth slice through my neck, it’s not a killing bite. He’s tearing through into my scent gland to make a bond bite.

I scream but with pleasure and not pain.

The sound is enough to shock both of us, but it’s too late.

I can feel the bond settling into my soul, winding between Bard and me.

I can sense his emotions and soul: A crippling sense of duty and tortured secrets that are destroying him, hidden underneath the quiet scholar who playacts the warrior.

Instantly, the wolf throws himself off me to the side, transforming back into a man.

Bard is naked like everyone who actively takes part in the Mate Hunt.

It’s hard to remember that this is meant to be the best night of most people’s lives, when they find their forever pack.

Bard’s pale, muscled body crouches in a shaft of moonlight like he’s readying himself to fight.

The red tattoo of a wolf on his shoulder, which marks him out as an Alpha, stands out brightly.

His thick brunet hair tumbles to his broad shoulders.

His large, forest green eyes are wild with confusion and panic.

He rubs over his mouth and jaw in frantic motions.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer.

Dazed and in shock, I pull myself up to my knees, holding my hand over my bond bite, which is already starting to magically heal over.

Bard appears as shocked as I am. “I didn’t mean to.”

“What? Hurt me?”

“I was meant to kill you. My wolf decided to mate you.” Bard drops his hand to the side, then notices with a hiss of disgust the ruby crescent moon soul bond mark, which has now risen up.

“Oh.” I huddle a little further back from him, trying to hide my hurt but knowing that with wolf shifter bonds it’s impossible to.

By the way that Bard is grimacing, it’s obvious that my distress is an inconvenience to him.

I raise my own wrist, touching the matching crescent moon.

Bard snarls, rubbing at his mark like he can erase it. “This was a mistake.”

My expression hardens, even as I ache inside at the rejection like he’s stabbed me. “I wasn’t the one with my teeth in someone’s neck.”

He arches his brow. “I’m still your prince, you know.”