One pint sized human female who’s had too much to drink, not enough sleep, and absolutely no patience meets one stubborn dragon shifter with an attitude.
Bastian claims Acasia, his unwilling bride, after she spends the night carousing with friends. She’s not happy, he’s pissed off, and with a curse from a goddess thrown in, you’ll see Bastian breathe fire.
Add secrets, treasure, and unimaginable heartbreak for an emotionally humorous read and discover why Dragons Don’t Cry.
Click. Click…
“Oh hell no.” I somehow managed to launch myself at the offending nail. It was bigger than the upper portion of my body but I landed on it with one goal… make that infernal noise stop.
His leg shifted beneath me but the claw I held didn’t move. A talon from his opposite appendage pushed, rolling me sideways but I held tight. He lowered his head and one red eye gazed directly into mine.
“Stupid human female named Acasia. Beg for your life.” The gruff voice sounded loudly in my head.
My stomach rolled again but I managed to speak, “Why should I beg when I can no longer take the smell. Dying would be a blessing.” A low groan left my throat.
“Humph.” The sound thundered through the room.
A dragon humphed me, the ass.
“What about the smell do you find displeasing?” he demanded, his voice rupturing every brain cell I possessed.
Was he serious? I couldn’t release his claw because he might continue the racket that drove me crazy but more than anything, I wanted to plug my nose. I looked away from his gaze, twisting so I could see what caused the repulsive odor. I also didn’t release his claw because for some strange reason, touching him calmed me.
What I saw turned my stomach upside down again and I swallowed back the bile in my throat. Partially devoured carcasses littered the floor—a leg here, thigh there—all in various stages of decay. Oh my gods, I was losing it again. I tried pushing away but didn’t make it. More chunky vomit spewed from my stomach landing on his talon and foot, or arm, whatever the hell it was.
When the heaving stopped, I finally answered, “Death, I smell death.”
“Humph. You smell of vomit and fermented drink. I don’t believe you are one to speak.”
“Gods do it, just do it you hulking jerk.”
“Do what, human female named Acasia?”
“Kill me, please,” it came out on a shriek.
“You humans are strange.” This time, his other talon shoved me farther away, abruptly moving me from his barf covered claw.
A deer hoof attached to a partial leg rested two inches in front of my face. I managed to scramble to my feet. I saw the dragon lift his middle claw.
Oh no he wouldn’t. “If you do that, I’ll puke on your other foot.”
“You have one last chance to beg for your life.” His jaws didn’t move but his grumbling voice threaded through my mind. Now, it was deep and husky like him calling my name when I waited with my claiming sisters.
Where my bravado came from, I don’t know. “I will not beg. Eat me.”
He reared up on his hind legs, his wings spreading out. I didn’t move, waiting for death—embracing it. The air moved when his wings flapped. For two seconds he hovered and then he rose until he rested on a ledge hundreds of feet above me.
He peered over his shoulder, “I will eat you tomorrow.” With a last look at where I stood, he went over the side, out of view.
D’Elen McClain is the bestselling author of the Fang Chronicles where werewolves and vampires battle for supremacy. She loves paranormal romance, her two dogs, and one husband of over thirty years. Throw in some coffee and chocolate along with her laptop and it’s the perfect time to write. You can also enjoy her spicier romances under the pen name Holly S. Roberts.
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