Page 11

ALICE

W aking up with Fenrother wrapped around me in his dragon form, but also being wrapped around him in turn , was unnerving, and I’m still processing the whole thing.

Fenrother took up the whole bed, and seeing his massive, dinosaur-like head up close and personal was not a fun way to wake.

I risked extracting myself from his coils, although he showed no sign of consciousness, and sat in the window instead, watching as light filtered into the courtyard.

Again, I thought I saw movement in the shadows, but given this place is magic, given the whole of the Yeavering is magic, I guess I should expect it.

The Fenrother who woke up was, initially, the Wyrm I was expecting, but then he goes and gives me this dress.

It’s like something out of a costume drama, and it’s not like he’s providing any underwear or replacement for my bra, but it’s better than the alternative he was offering last night…

nothing.

As for his cryptic announcement that he believed what I came for has been done , I’m not going to even attempt to unpack it.

If he’s giving me any grudging level of trust, while I’m not going to do the same, I’m not going to question it.

Not until I work out how the hell I can manage this situation which ranges from bad to worse to bad again like a dose of whiplash.

Fenrother gazes at me, and I know he’s not intending moving an inch until I put the dress on, so I stand, and having made my way through a number of fluffy sewn in petticoats, I shove my head through into the bodice and writhe my way into the garment.

It’s tight on my upper half, shoving my boobs front and centre.

It feels as if it’s bespoke, and I shove away the question which fills my mind of why this Wyrm would have clothing made for me in his wardrobe.

A wardrobe, I recall, I found locked when I checked.

I will not look a gift…

Wyrm in the mouth. I’m dressed, albeit ridiculously, and that is a win.

I turn to face Fenrother, who has been watching my struggle with the dress with an extreme interest. He spots my elevated bosoms, and his eyes spin with their holographic inners, glittering in the morning light.

He reaches out a hand to touch my chest. In a flash, I slap it away, and he grunts in surprise.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to touch without asking?”

Fenrother growls, looking at his hand where I touched him.

“Like who?”

“Anyone! Your mother for instance?” It appears that clothed is bold .

Fenrother lifts his head.

“Did you see anyone else in this castle?” he snarls.

I have to admit, I did not.

“No mother, no father, no one,” Fenrother says, his voice low and dangerous.

“Only me.”

Without a further word, he leaves the bedroom with a swish of tail and wings.

He leaves the door open.

I am no longer locked up like the proverbial damsel.

I’m free to roam. But I hesitate, turning his words over in my mind.

No mother, no father, no one.

Is he an orphan like me, only without the interfering aunt?

Did he grow up in this empty castle alone?

I sit back in the window seat.

Could any of this explain how utterly strange Fenrother is?

I mean, he is basically a mythical creature who can change his form at will, so I have to expect and accept there are some differences.

But nothing does well raised alone, even magical Wyrms.

If nothing else, at least I was sent away to school.

At least I had peers around me who taught me right from wrong.

“I brought you food.”

Fenrother leans in the doorway, a pewter platter in his hand.

He looks confused at his actions, first looking at the food, then at me, then poking at it with a claw.

I leave my position and walk over to him, finding my legs tangling in the big dress and having to wrestle it into submission.

By the time I reach him, something akin to amusement briefly lights his face.

“You might want to wear garments, but I don’t think they want to wear you,” he says, shoving the platter at me.

“Thank you.” I look at what he’s brought.

There’s a whole chicken on it (again), but also some apple slices, a chunk of orange cheese, and a piece of roughly cut bread.

“I’m sorry I struck you earlier,” I say, looking up at him through my eyelashes.

“I’m sorry about your parents.”

Surprise runs over Fenrother’s face, one which is rather handsome now I’ve got used to the scales and the horns.

He has chiseled, fine cheekbones along with a solid, square jaw and full lips.

His beaded hair is straggly but shiny, and he has, like so many Yeavering creatures, the pointed ears of the Faerie.

I find myself wanting to touch them.

But then I need to heed my own warnings about being asked first.

“Your actions are understandable. Even if the Yeavering stone gave you to me, I should consider your needs first,” he replies.

“I should…ask you what you want.”

This seems like a strange concept for him and one which has appeared all too suddenly.

From the Fenrother giving orders to the Wyrm handing me food and asking me what I want…

could he have another agenda?

The whole idea of being his mate is still hanging over me, even if he didn’t try anything last night.

Even though he promised there would be nothing unless I wanted it (although keeping his wandering hands to himself is something he needed reminding about).

I can’t imagine Fenrother going on a charm offensive.

He’s probably the least charming male I’ve ever met.

He releases the platter into my grip, which I nearly drop because it’s so heavy, and he turns to leave.

“Have you eaten yet?” I ask.

Fenrother looks over his shoulder, one wing drooping.

“There’s too much here for me to eat on my own, if you want to share,” I say.

I have nowhere else to go.

I have a Yeavering monster who has decided I belong to him, that I’m his mate.

I am stuck here, but it doesn’t mean I have to be alone.

And the more I know about Fenrother, the more I have a chance of finding a way out of my predicament.

That is being the wife to a Wyrm.

I carry the platter over to the window seat and put it down.

Fenrother hesitates.

I guess the lack of real trust goes both ways.

He’s viewed me as a threat since he met me, as I have him.

That isn’t going away with a bit of breakfast.

Finally, he walks over to where I’m sitting and settles opposite me within the thick walls.

Picking up the chicken in one huge hand, he bites down with fangs straight out of a nightmare.