Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Hell yeah I'm refusing a dragon. He's airplane sized. There is absolutely no way anything along those lines would work. I don't care how much Rachel loves her dragon, I know she didn't sleep with him while he was, well, a dragon.
So when he tries to rub his nose on me in that way that makes me laugh because I'm incredibly ticklish, I push him aside again. "We need to talk, Mhal. Can you please talk to me?" I stare up at him, waiting. I don't know if his dragon mouth forms words or if he needs to turn human. No one's explained anything to me.
The dragon simply curls that massive hand—claw, paw, whatever—around me once more and hauls me against him. I drum my fingers on his scales, frustrated. I'm trapped in his clutches. My arms are free, but even if I were able to wriggle out of his grip, it's clear he's not letting me go anywhere. He intends to just…I don't know, hold me?
But for how long?
I stare up at his enormous face, frustrated. At the chipped tooth missing the end, and the scar on his snout. He glares down at me—if dragons can glare—and his eyes whirl those ominous dark shades.
In the dreams, he talked to me. In the dreams, we communicated. In reality, I feel as if he's barely hanging on. Like the wrong word will suddenly cause him to snap and he'll go on a killing rampage.
I blink up at him. That's it. If the waking Mhal won't talk to me, I need to get him to go to sleep. In our dreams, we can meet one another. "I don't suppose you feel like napping?" I whisper up to him. "Eyes kinda heavy? Feeling drowsy?"
The dragon just stares down at me, eyes dark.
"I'm guessing that's a 'no.'" I swallow hard and wonder if I can relax enough to go to sleep. I'm not scared of Mhal, oddly enough. I was at first, but now that it's clear all he wants to do is hug me to his chest, I know he's not going to harm me. If he wanted to, he could have a dozen times already. Instead, I'm worried that he'll lose his mind (what little he has) and go on a rampage in the city. I've seen too many dragon attacks in the past to not be leery of a wide-awake dragon with flames ready to come out of his nose. If I say the wrong thing or look at him in a way that pisses him off, is he going to lose his mind and just destroy half the city?
Will Azar take him over again? If so, what happens then?
I feel like if I don't somehow convince Mhal to play nice, I'm not going to live very long. I think about the ringing slap that Azar gave Manda. He didn't think twice about decking her. I think about Hailey's dead body. No one cared that she died.
I am absolutely expendable to these people, and I've never been more aware of it. That's the most terrifying thing of all. I let the program and the regular meals lull me into a false sense of security. To them, I'm a tool. And what happens with tools that no longer work?
You discard them.
So I need to figure out what I'm supposed to do with Mhal and make it happen. Azar wants me to sleep with him and magically get pregnant. I'm thinking that's a stretch, but I need to at least be able to talk to Mhal, and right now, we're going in circles.
So, sleep it is.
I hum a lullaby, hoping it'll make him relax. I don't have a great voice, but lullabies aren't about great voices anyhow. They're about soothing sounds to help you drift off to sleep.
The moment I start to hum, the dragon lowers his head, pulling me out from his chest so he can peer at me. "That's right, big guy," I hum-sing to the tune of “Rockabye Baby.” "Time for us to go night night."
You are a stubborn female.
I open my eyes, that thought ringing through my head. I'm back in my bed in the barracks, and for a moment I'm confused. How did I get back here?
A claw-tipped hand caresses my hair, but when I look around, I can't see. Shadows cover the man at my side.
Aaaah. This is a dream.
"Mhal? Is that you?" I try to sit up, but my head is heavy in the dream and the hand caressing my hair is so very nice.
Mhal? Who is Mhal?
Okay, now I'm confused again. "You told me your name is Mhal."
Did I? He sounds disgruntled. It is a short, brutal name with no power to it. I do not think it is mine.
"Then what's your name?"
He scoffs for a moment, and then he's silent.