The Cursed King by Abigail Owen

Author:Abigail Owen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: hot and steamy; dark; dragon shifters
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2022-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Gods, how could I be so stupid?

He’d been able to wrestle the shift back from his dragon, taking control, and the thing had been good with Angelika. Gentle for what he was. And the fact that she’d lit on fire, and he believed—gods, he’d believed with everything in his soul that it was because of him. All those reasons made him think he could do this.

Could make her his. Claim her. Mate her.

Airk could still smell Angelika all over him as he forced his dragon to fly away from her. Unfortunately, so could the beast half of him, and it was sending him over the edge. Frantic to get back to her.

Inside his own mind, his own body, the two parts of his soul battled each other. The violent clash raging internally meant he was jerking around in the sky as control over their flight juddered back and forth between human and dragon.

But at the end of claiming her, the animal part of him had wanted to be the one to fill their mate with fire, to turn her. He’d started to shift while Airk’s cock had been buried, hilt deep, inside Angelika. The damn monster could have rent her in half if he’d succeeded before Airk had been able to tear them away.

He’d tried to run, but the shift had come on too fast.

You could have killed her! he shouted at his creature half as he mentally and physically dragged them farther and farther away from where he’d left Angelika.

But the dragon was too far gone to listen, roaring and thrashing and fighting to get back and finish what they started. What he’d promised them both.

If that split in his gut hadn’t opened up with all the other things, it very well might now. Or that’s how it felt—as though he was being torn and slashed open from the insides.

Airk did the only thing he could. He tried to force the shift midair. Back to human.

Nothing happened.

Which left him with one option. The thing he hated most about what Pytheios had forced him to become. A mental exercise Nathair had taught him to do as a boy. Pytheios’s witch had spelled the dungeons to turn off any visitor’s powers, but his dragon wasn’t a power. He was the dragon, and the dragon was him. So Nathair had taught him how the magic of his creature came from his mind.

As fast as he could, Airk mentally bricked a wall in his mind. He reinforced it with dragonsteel. Blocking his dragon off, like he’d been forced to do in that fucking cell for centuries, he held him there and again willed himself to change. The shimmering lines before his eyes told him when he got it.

Then he was falling.

Behind those bricked-in, shored-up, steel-enforced mental walls, his dragon roared with the thunder of a wild creature, hatred for everything Airk was spewing from inside him. But Airk didn’t let up.

At the last second, mountainside rushing up at him, his dragon made

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