Chapter 39 Terms and Conditions
Okay, so being kidnapped and kept sort of against my will isn’t looking too bad. There are literally thousands of books. Thousands. And super cute and cosy seating and lighting. I'm sure this place probably even has a butler who would make me a fancy drink in a pretty mug with little marshmallows. I've read that those are amazing and totally what you want when you're trying to be all relaxed and stuff. Any book lover will tell you that to have an unlimited supply of stories to read—well, you could kidnap just about any of us so easily this way. I don’t know why he didn’t just start with that. It honestly would have made it a hell of a lot more enticing than the “you’re mine” speech he put on. Speaking of the dragon king…I’ve never held a bigger audience than just Gilfred while I read, and usually he falls asleep or disappears. So, it’s only a tad unsettling that he’s been staring at me for the last hour or so.
I sigh and put down the book I’ve been escaping in and look at him. I chose this particular book because it had a large picture of a dragon on the cover, and if I’m going to be living with one, I would like to know a little more. But there’s just so much information, and my word count when reading is only so quick. So, I decide, I’ll go straight to the source.
“So,” I say, shutting the book and leaning forward on my elbows. “What’s the deal with you people?”
Damien looks up from his spot across the room, halfway through pretending to read some documents he’s clearly not reading. “You people?”
“Dragons,” I clarify. “The scaly, fire-breathing, territorial ones. You, specifically. I feel like if I’m living under your roof, there should be, you know, a pamphlet or something.”
He blinks, slow and regal. “A pamphlet.”
“Yes.” I gesture around the room. “Something informative. Maybe with diagrams. Warnings. The do’s and don’ts of not getting eaten.”
That earns me a small huff, the ghost of a smile breaking through his usual seriousness. “You wouldn’t be eaten.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring. Because last time I was told something like that, I ended up half-drowned in the sea.”
His eyes glint faintly. “And yet, here you are.”
I narrow mine. “Touché, dragon king.”
He exhales, amused despite himself, and closes the folder in front of him. “What exactly do you want to know?”
“Well,” I start, “for one, this whole imprinting thing. Is that a common dragon hobby, or am I just the lucky chosen one?”
That catches him off guard. He sits back in his chair, thinking for a moment before saying, “Like I said before, it’s not… common. It’s instinctive. Dragons don’t choose to imprint. It’s a binding between souls that happens on instinct.”
“Sounds romantic,” I say dryly.
“It’s not,” he replies, and something about his tone makes me look up. “It’s ancient. It’s not meant to be a love story. It’s survival. It ties our lives together, keeps us sane.”
My stomach twists slightly. “How sane are we talking?”
He nods once and clears his throat. “A dragon who imprints and loses the one he’s bound to doesn’t survive the madness that follows. He will eventually take over the body and become more dragon than human. Right now, it's as if I am in control; the dragon only has partial control unless we have strong emotions or I give him control. To lose the one you are bond to...it would tear us apart and he would take over completely.”
“Wow,” I murmur. “That’s… heavy. So you’re telling me I’m basically a walking emotional support human.”
His lips twitch. “If that helps you understand it.”
“Okay, well, when you put it like that, it sounds like I should be getting paid.”
The slightest sound escapes him—half a laugh, half disbelief—and I swear the air in the room feels warmer for it.
I tilt my head. “So… was there a memo? Like a warning that said ‘Hey, maybe don’t imprint on the girl you nearly abducted?’”
He smirks, looking down briefly. “It wasn’t planned.” He reminds me again, but I just needed that confirmation to be sure.
“I’d hope not. That would be some next-level villain origin story.”
His gaze meets mine again, his eyes narrow slightly but not unkindly. “It happened because you weren’t afraid.”
That throws me. “That’s the reason?”
“It’s rare,” he says quietly. “People look at me and see a monster. They look at what I am and run. But you didn’t. You saw the beast completely and you...petted him.”
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the weight of it. “Maybe I just didn’t know better yet.”
He leans forward slightly, voice softer now. “Or maybe you saw something worth not running from.”
That steals whatever witty comeback I had lined up. I clear my throat and grab the nearest distraction—the book. “So, the pamphlet. Maybe add that under ‘things not to say to women you’ve kidnapped.’”
He chuckles again, low and quiet, and it doesn’t sound like a sound that belongs to a king. It sounds like a man learning how to be one.
I smile despite myself, flipping through pages I’m not reading. “So, what else do I need to know about this whole dragon-human coexistence thing? Are there rules? Regulations? Fire codes?”
“There’s one rule,” he says. “Don’t touch the scales without permission.”
I grin. “Good to know. Though... I already broke that rule.”
He tilts his head. “And you wonder why we chose you.”
“Oh, I don’t wonder,” I say. “I take it as a compliment to my achievements.” I make an invisible tick in the air. "Petted a dragon and didn't die."
He just watches me for a while after that, eyes half-lit with amusement, half with something I don't have a name for. Then, quietly, he says, “You make this place feel different.”
The words hang there, raw and straightforward. I look down at the open book again, trying to act like they don’t mean something.
“Yeah, well,” I murmur, “someone has to shake up your fairytale.”
He keeps looking at me like that...like I'm something special, and I’m starting to think the real danger isn’t the dragon—it’s the man trying to learn how to be human.