Dragons And Their Little Mate

Lady Meryl Hanover was standing at the entrance of the dining room, waiting for the guards to open the doors. The recently polished, mahogany doors smelled rich and daunting. Her breath was lodged in her throat. No sooner had the doors opened and she stepped through the doorway that her instinct screamed at her to retreat.  No, it wasn’t because the room was filled with guests. Neither did the grand decorations of the room daunt her. The maroon velvet fabric did give the banquet hall a gothic charm, the rows of chandeliers hung overhead, carrying thousands of candles. At the center of the long table was a ridiculous spread of food and silverware. The light filtering from the stained glass windows gave the room an eerie feeling. In the center was a long table with a ridiculous spread of food and silverware.  The rich aroma of food wafted to her, fill

Brishor swung out of bed. He took a look at Chezzal, his General, tucked him beneath the fur and walked naked to the wash basin that was located near the window. Sleep was nowhere. Over the last few days, he was haunted by the dreams of Loreans being mercilessly pulled inside the forest that surrounded Pembrook and being killed, their bodies sucked dry of blood, and thrown to the wild animals. In the heavy darkness of his General’s room, he couldn’t shed the images of those mutilated bodies. He opened the window and the morning light that crested the tops of the firs, spilled inside. He grabbed the pitcher and washed his face in the basin. The ice-cold water felt good against his heated skin. Brishor tilted the pitcher and splashed more water on his eyes. The remnant of the nightmares disappeared with the coldness.“What are you thinking

It took them a long time to reach Windley Castle. It was already evening but the rains were just as heavy. Meryl got out of the carriage with Tim’s help. As soon as she was down, he bowed his head and said, “M’lady, I need to rush to my wife. If there is nothing else to do, may I go?” Drenched to the skin, Meryl nodded. She wanted to get inside the castle and go to her room where she would summon her maid in waiting, Patsy. The shawl around her was so wet that she slung it over her hand and then walked it the main hall and found herself staring right into the dark eyes of her stepmother. An unpleasant shock cruised through her body as Judith’s gaze met hers directly. Her stepmother’s gaze was filled with cold hatred, one that had become very common whenever they were face to face. Meryl found herself shivering, which had nothing to do with how cold she was feeling.

Something tickled her nose, something with bristles and a terrible smell. Meryl swatted at it, but it didn’t go away. She opened her eyes, but why was every part of her body aching so badly. Flash of memories rushed across her mind. The last she remembered was drinking that potion in the carriage, which Valerie gave her for fever. She had blacked out after that and now she found herself in darkness with something crawling on her face. She got up and her head hit a wooden board. “Ouch!” she pressed her hand to her head. Her hands fell back on… hay? Where the hell was she? Was she dreaming? And why was her skin so itchy? Meryl blinked her eyes once and twice, but the darkness didn’t go. She touched around to understand the place she was in and all she could make out was that she was lying on hay. She scooted to her side to avoid the wooden plank over her head and got out to sit. The damp smell of the room h

Brishor gripped Chezzal’s thigh beneath the table as his eyes became wide. The girl in front of them was… beautiful, no, ethereal. His throat bobbed when he heard the thundering beats of her heart. His chest was gripped in a vise-like feel, as he sensed her fear. He rapidly tried to decipher what she was afraid of, but then his gaze dropped to the slit on the side of her lips. Her scent—of flowers, of jacaranda wrapped in lemon and fire, hit him with full force.  —Mine—  He could feel the bond, the chain, the link that tethered him to her. Before he could do anything, Chezzal rose to his feet. He stared at her as the girl held a large folder in her hands, looking fearfully at the man and then at Duke Alburn. She seemed to tremble, her skin was flushed and her face pale. Her deep auburn hair was tied in a loose braid and some strands came out. Those