Chapter 104 This Is Why We Don't Touch Dragons
Bella
By the time we finally land, my legs feel like they’ve forgotten what gravity is supposed to do. Flying is… incredible, don’t get me wrong. The wind, the speed, the way the world drops away until everything looks smaller and quieter and far less capable of ruining your day. But after half a day clutched to a dragon’s back, muscles braced, senses overloaded, and adrenaline running just a little too high for too long, my body is ready to be horizontal and preferably fed and worshipped just a little. Damien’s dragon spirals down smoothly, wings angling with practised ease before his talons hit the ground in a controlled, powerful landing that still sends a shiver through me. The earth feels solid beneath us again, blessedly unmoving. His presence curls around my mind warmly as he lowers his head.
Not far now, Snowflake, he murmurs, satisfaction threaded through every word. The Sanctum lies ahead. We should eat. Rest. Plan how we approach it correctly.
That sounds suspiciously like dragon for: please stop clinging to me like a very tired burr.
I laugh under my breath and slide down carefully, boots hitting dirt as my legs wobble in protest. I catch myself on his foreleg, patting warm scales affectionately before already reaching for the bag one of the other dragons carried down moments later, which has Damien’s clothes, bundled neatly inside. Red dismounts just as easily, dropping from Drake’s back with the kind of grace that makes it look effortless, offering him a single nod of thanks before immediately moving off to scout the surrounding area like she’s been doing this her entire life and not riding a dragon for the first time a few hours ago. Drake's dragon watches her go with something dangerously close to awe in his eyes, before shifting back into human form behind us.
Ashlyn comes to stand beside me, stretching dramatically, hands on her lower back. “Okay,” she announces. “I would like to formally apologise to my legs.”
I snort. “Same.”
Neither of us looks back at the dragons. Not because we’re shy, but mostly because we’re polite, so we both turn our backs and make a point of discussing absolutely nothing of importance while the men shift and dress behind us.
“Do you think this counts as cardio?” Ashlyn asks seriously.
“I think it counts as emotional damage,” I reply.
She hums thoughtfully.
A familiar presence settles behind me, warm hands sliding around my waist as Damien presses a kiss to my temple, his mouth lingering just long enough to make my shoulders relax.
“We have a problem,” he murmurs.
That immediately snaps me back to full awareness.
I turn slightly, brows knitting. “What kind of problem?”
His gaze flicks past me, subtle but pointed, and that’s when I notice one dragon hasn’t shifted back. The others are human now — soldiers adjusting straps, pulling on boots, checking gear — but Paul’s dragon remains exactly where he landed, massive body coiled comfortably in the clearing, tail flicking lazily as though he has nowhere else to be and no intention of changing that.
“Oh,” I say slowly. “That seems… new.”
Damien exhales, “Come with me.”
He grabs my hand and leads me a short distance away, making sure Ashlyn gets distracted by poking at the gear pile and Red climbs halfway up a ridge to check sightlines.
“That dragon,” Damien says quietly, “is Paul.”
I blink. “Yes, I know that is Paul?”
“Paul's dragon does not want to give back control.”
My stomach drops. “Oh.”
Damien rubs a hand over the back of his neck, something I’ve learned means this is going to be uncomfortable. “He imprinted.”
My brain takes a second to catch up.
“…On Ashlyn.”
He nods once. “On Ashlyn.”
I stare at the dragon, then back at Damien. “But she just— she patted him. She talked to him. She—”
“You remember when we first met,” Damien interrupts gently, “and I told you it was very dangerous to pet a dragon?”
I wince. “You said something like I’d either get eaten, burnt, or—”
“Imprinted on,” he finishes.
A horrible, dawning realisation hits.
“…Oh shit.”
“Yes.”
I drag a hand down my face. “That explains why he shoved his nose up you know where... I don’t want to relive that.”
Damien’s mouth twitches despite himself.
“A dragon will not carry someone they do not claim,” he continues quietly. “Paul’s dragon chose. Paul did not get a say in the matter.”
My eyes flick back to Ashlyn just as she approaches Paul’s dragon, hands on her hips.
“What are you doing?” she demands of him. “Why are you still like this?”
The dragon lowers his head slightly, watching her with glowing, unblinking focus.
“Okay, that’s unsettling,” I mutter.
Paul’s dragon does not respond. He does not move. He certainly does not shift.
Damien sighs. “He’s refusing to give Paul control back.”
I look at him sharply. “Why?”
“Instincts,” he says. “He won't until Ashlyn accepts him. Until his dragon is certain his human won't fuck things up for him.”
I follow his gaze to where Drake — now human and fully dressed — walks close beside Red, their shoulders nearly brushing, something already quietly established between them. It suddenly clicks in a way I do not like.
“Well, shit,” I whisper. "Your gardeners aren't going to like this revelation."
Ashlyn reaches out again, poking Paul’s dragon’s snout. “You can stop being dramatic now.”
The dragon rumbles, low and pleased.
She freezes. “Did… did you just purr at me?”
Damien closes his eyes briefly.
“She has no idea,” I say faintly.
“None.”
I watch as Ashlyn steps back, confused, glancing between the dragon and us like she’s missing part of a joke everyone else is in on.
“So,” I say carefully, “what happens now?”
Damien meets my eyes. “Now,” he says, “we explain to Ashlyn that a dragon has decided she is his mate.”
I let out a slow breath.
“…This trip keeps getting better.”
Damien squeezes my hand, sympathy and resignation wrapped together.
“And that,” he adds dryly, “is why we didn’t fly in the first place.”