Chapter 1
Gwen
The black dragon in the confinement room was going into heat again, his roar echoing through the palace, chased by whispers and quick feet, desperate for a place to hide.
Gwen passed two maids in the corridor outside the kitchens, their voices low but not low enough.
“Every month,” the red-haired one whispered, “the head maid sends a girl in.” Her lips trembled. “None of them come out right.”
The other girl’s eyes widened, glistening with unshed tears. “N-not right?”
Red nodded, her own lashes damp. “Last month’s girl nearly died. I don’t want to be next.” Tremors shook her body.
“W-who i-is it t-tonight?”
Gwen paused, lingering a moment longer to catch the name, another tally to add to the list of the black dragon’s casualties.
“Ruby.”
Her spine stiffened. She knew Ruby. She’d passed Gwen an extra loaf of bread just that morning, a half smile curling her lips. Gwen didn’t think she’d ever seen the young girl frown. Happiness practically radiated through her pores.
And they wanted to sacrifice her? To that beast?
Gwen moved without picking a destination, her shoulders back and spine straight. No one stopped her as she passed lit torches that bathed her brown skin in golden light, or when she rounded a corner and pushed into the maid’s dormitory. Most of them were anywhere but inside the castle, wishing to be as far as possible away from the dragon.
Ruby sat on the floor, back pressed into a wall and her face buried in her knees. Her shoulders moved up and down as sobs racked her body. She still wore her apron.
Gwen crouched in front of her, one hand outstretched. “Ruby.”
She jerked away from the contact, tears streaking her face. “Sir Glennis. You shouldn’t be here. T-t-the d-dragon—”
“I know,” she said, speaking calmly. “You were picked.”
“He’s going to kill me—rip me apart like all the others.”
Her face hardened. “No, he won’t. You were picked, but that does not mean you have to go.”
“But if I don’t—”
“I’ll go in your place,” she said, unaware when she’d decided that. Maybe it was the moment she’d heard the girl’s name and knew she couldn’t stand idly by and watch her light get snuffed out.
Gwen was no one. Disposable.
Pendragon’s Reach received new recruits for the Knight’s Order every year. What was one lost runt like her?
She never should’ve come here to play at being a knight, but as an unmarried woman with only a farmer for a father, who wanted to sell her to the highest bidder, she had little choice.
Her options were limited, and it’d seemed like a good plan at the time.
One year.
She’d join the Order, fulfill her one year contract, then leave—start over somewhere fresh and new.
Like Silvermere. Or Aurelith.
She’d never been outside of Urelladorn, least of all Pendragon’s Reach. But she’d convinced herself she could do it.
Now, it seemed like a fool’s plan in the face of Ruby’s plight. Maybe the girl could work her way out of here instead. Maybe she had better chances than Gwen of succeeding.
“No! Glennis, you can’t. You’re a man! If they see you, they’ll—”
She placed her hand on Ruby’s shoulder and squeezed. “Relax. Breathe. And trust me? I can look that part. They won’t suspect a thing. I can do this.”
“But why?” Her red-rimmed eyes searched Gwen’s. “You don’t have to do this.
“But I can and I have higher chances of surviving than you. I’m a knight, remember? I can take care of myself. Now,” Gwen stood, scanning the room, “what were you going to wear?”
Gwen smoothed the thin white silk, one shouldered shift down her hips, then placed the small circlet atop her short-cropped hair, the ends tickling her neck. She stepped from behind the changing curtain and did a twirl for Ruby, who gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth.
“Oh, my. How do you look more like a woman than I do?”
Gwen resisted the urge to preen. She hadn’t felt pretty in a while, despite the other knight’s jabs about her “pretty face.”
She was a man. Men weren’t supposed to be pretty. But she almost smiled under Ruby’s praise.
“I told you I’ve got this. Now, is there anything else?”
Ruby’s eyes flooded with tears again, but she shook her head, sniffling.
“Then I’ll see you in the morning. Be safe.”
She squeezed the other girl’s arm as she brushed past her.
“Are you sure?” Ruby was quick, grabbing at her wrist.
“I’m sure. Go on. Bunker down for the night. I’ll be fine.”
She hoped.
She patted Ruby’s hand, then carefully removed it. “Quit worrying. You’re going to make me feel less like a man than this dress does.”
That earned her a choked laugh. Ruby nodded and wiped at her face, making herself presentable for whoever she passed in the corridors.
Together, they slipped from the dormitory, heading in opposite directions.
No one stopped the death march to the confinement room. Why would they? Anyone passing this way knew what waited in the east tower behind the two doors carved with dragons.
Gwen pushed them open, pausing in the doorway.
A white canopy bed waited against the far wall, and something black lay behind its gossamer curtains. A long, serpentine head lifted, chilling the blood in Gwen’s veins. She fisted her hands and dared to step deeper into the room.
That was when it moved—wings flaring out, a glow emanating from its throat.
It was going to kill her.
Gwen squinched her eyes closed, waiting for the wave of heat to rush at her and sear the flesh from her bones like the stories of legend. No one she knew had ever encountered a dragon. Except for the one haunting these halls, they were believed to be dead or dying.
And she was going to join their ranks.
Except the blast never came. Something stirred in the room, luring her into opening her eyes, and she gasped, peering into a slitted, molten gold gaze.
Prince Xavier’s scaled chest heaved, but no recognition flashed across his handsome, tawny face. Something like amber lightning pulsed beneath his skin. Dark scales drank in the candlelight, covering one arm and running across his shoulder. Black hair fell into his eyes, hanging in unruly tangles that tempted her fingers. She wanted to brush them from his forehead.
She flexed her hand, sucking in a deep breath as reality sank into her bones.
Prince Xavier…was the black dragon?
How was this possible?
Gwen took a cautious step forward, and light spread from where her barefoot touched. She stared at the floor, at the nearly invisible runes glowing beneath the stone.
Confinement.
That meant more than chains, though the prince wasn’t wearing any—just a pair of dark trousers, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest. He didn’t wait for her to take the remaining steps. He crossed to her in three strides and yanked her into him.
“Your Highness—”
His lips—incredibly soft and molding to hers—silenced her. He was hot, his skin nearly scalding, hands roaming over her shift. He walked them backward before shoving her onto the bed.
“I think we should—”
His body and mouth came crashing down on hers, and he swallowed her shocked gasp. His weight nestled easily between her inadvertently spread thighs, pressing the thick length of him against her center.
“Xavier,” she whimpered, tangling her hand in his hair. He was not a bad kisser—anything but.
He rocked his hips, grinding them into her. Against her better judgment, her legs wound around his waist.
He reared back, pupils little black slivers in a sea of gold. Claws tore through his fingers, and he ripped through her shift in one swipe, exposing everything below her belly button.
“Mine,” he growled, pressing her thigh into the bed.
“Xavier,” she whined. They barely knew each other! But whatever madness or fever gripped him eroded all reason. He was a man desperate for relief, sweating from the need of it.
Tentatively, she reached out a hand, and his fingers wrapped around it, bringing it to his chest.
“Touch me,” he demanded, dragging her palm down his chiseled abdominals. Heat bloomed beneath her skin. He truly was…a work of art.
He drove her hand into his trousers, hot flesh thrusting into her grip. She squeezed lightly. A hiss whistled between his teeth. The tendons in his neck stood out as he rolled his hips again. “Inside. Need inside.”
Together, they yanked his trousers down far enough to free him. She tried not to gape. His cock shimmered with obsidian scales, ridges running along the underside and stopping just below the flared head, leaking pre-cum.
“Oh,” she breathed. He tipped her chin up.
“Eyes on me.”
She tried controlling her breathing as he lined them up. He dragged the head through her folds to collect the gathering arousal there before pushing in slow, one inch at a time. Not once did he glance away from her, and she forced herself to hold his gaze until he was fully seated.
“Your Highness,” crawled past her lips in a high-pitched whine. She was so full.
“You can take it,” he said with a self-confidence she envied. He withdrew, watching her face for signs of discomfort, and she was in awe that he could exert any self control considering the state he was in a moment ago.
“All. Mine,” he breathed against her lips, setting a bruising pace.
Gwen held on, sinking her nails into his back and bucking her hips to meet each thrust. His breath fanned her skin, and sweat dripped onto her forehead, but she didn’t care, lost to the sensation of being filled over and over again. Her walls clenched each time he retreated, only to spasm when he bottomed out again.
“Xavier!”
Her toes curled, and her head thrashed against the pillow. Her core tightened.
“I’m going to…oh!”
Bliss, absolute bliss, flooded her veins. Her entire body seized, tightening around him, and he grunted without slowing. Something like a keening noise crawled up her throat. She squeezed her legs around his waist, holding him close, and he pinned her arms above her head. His eyes brightened.
“Xavier, what are you—”
He leaned up and sank his teeth into the skin just below her wrist, and she knew it would scar from the pain shooting through her, warring with the pleasure. Tears swam in her eyes. She sniffled, half wishing he’d stop, but she didn’t dare open her mouth.
She turned her face away, and he slowed. Fresh pain took up residence where the bite was.
Xavier removed his teeth, took one look at her face and froze, cock half in and half out of her. Firm fingers gripped her chin, turning her to face him.
“Are you done?” Her bottom lip wobbled.
“No,” he murmured.
She blinked back tears and opened her mouth, not expecting him to kiss her or to taste the faint trace of her blood on his tongue.
I can’t believe he bit me.
“Stay with me tonight. I won’t bite again.” Dark brows stitched together. Golden eyes searched hers. “I will make it good for you again, pretty mate.”
Pretty mate? What did that mean?
“Prince Xavier…”
His hold on her wrists loosened enough for her to slip an arm free and touch his face. Words to refuse him wouldn’t come.
“Just until morning.” She thumbed his full bottom lip. “And no more biting.”
He nodded like an obedient pet.
A small smile teased her lips as he claimed her mouth again.
