Dragons' Captive: Her Royal Dragon Pack by Alex Lidell

Author:Alex Lidell [Lidell, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

KIT

I wake with slippery arousal drenching my inner thighs and my channel clenching around empty dreams. I’d dreamt of flying. Of glorious fires and powerful waves.

Tavias. The memory of last night’s conversation with him is still sending my insides into a spin. The phantom feel of his hands pressed over my punished backside as he gives no quarter… Surely, any normal being would feel anger. Or fear. Or anything except a strange unbidden arousal that simultaneously makes me both want to get him alone again and to keep my distance. Is it magic that makes my body play tricks? I haven’t heard his voice in my head since those first days, but maybe he did something else last night.

It is all too strange. Too impossible.

I’d just sat up to rub my face and stare at Tavias’s empty bed—he had ordered another bed brought in and had settled me in his own suite—when the doors to the room fly open. A portly woman with three man-servants in tow bustles inside.

“You, set the stool just there,” she directs the men. “Yes, the mirror goes in front. Use your brains, man. Why would you think to put it in the washroom? You let my fabrics touch the floor and it will be your hide.”

“Yes, Seamstress Simonne,” the tall bald one says.

“Sorry, Seamstress Simonne,” another one echoes, the pattern of orders and apologies continuing for some time.

When several rolls of fabric settle on the very bed I am still laying in, I start worrying whether the dragons’ glamor might have accidentally concealed me along with their scales. Is that possible? I have no idea how magic works.

“Well,” Simonne suddenly appears over me, her fists on her portly hips as she stares at me over her spectacles. “Are you going to lay about much longer? We haven’t got all year, girl.”

Alright, so I am not invisible. But that is all I am certain of so far this morning.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you needed the room,” I say, swinging out of bed. I figure it is better to be in my small clothes in front of the scurrying servants than gather any more of Seamstress Simonne’s wrath. “I’ll be out of your way.”

“The room? Out of my way? Do you think I brought a stool and mirror to redo the curtains?” She clouts a young man who is about to set her sewing basket atop a wash bowl and mutters something about heads and hat racks. “Well?” She glowers at me again.

“I generally follow directions better when I’m, err, told what they are,” I say meekly. “What exactly can I help you with, Seamstress?”

She pulls off her glasses, her brows climbing up her face. “You help me? I’m here to help you. I was told you needed dresses. And judging by the state of what I see, I couldn’t agree more. Have you ever been fitted?”

Heat touches my face as I rub the inside of my wrist, before showing her the brand. “I’m sorry. I think you were probably sent to help someone else.

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