Chosen By The Dragon Kings novel Chapter 3

Victor, the store owner, looks up. A smile plays on his lips when he sees me. He always liked my grandmother. They used to be friends before everything went to shit.

“Elora dear, how is your grandmother?” he asks. Victor appeared concerned at seeing me this late in the day, he knew I had to try and be home before dark. That’s when the night creatures like the vamps would come out to hunt down their victims. It was never safe to be on the street after dark, easy picking for the more malevolent creatures.

“Not good, Victor. The cough hasn’t gone away. She is getting worse,” I tell him, retrieving my grandmother’s wedding band from my pocket.

I drop it on the counter, shooting him a knowing look. He snatches it, placing it in his pocket, and nods his head before ducking out the back and bringing back a bottle of liquid. Victor knows what my grandmother is, yet he never mentions it, knowing it is a death sentence if anyone heard him speak of the Fae.

“Give her this three times a day; I haven’t got anything stronger. Herbs are becoming harder to find, especially in the winter.” I nod before grabbing the bottle and placing my hood back over my head.

“Elora stay safe out there,” he warns, following behind me, getting ready to barricade himself in before those that go bump in the night come out to play.

I stepped into the freezing air. My toes had gone numb already from the mud and snow sinking into my shoes. Bowing my head against prying eyes, I take off for home, running. When I reach the corner, I run into someone.

I mutter “Sorry” at them before I go to take off, only for them to grab my arm, ripping me in front of them. I can see the man’s black boots as my eyes remain fixed to the ground. His grip on my arm is tight but also warm as I feel his heat seep into my skin through the jacket.

“Take the hood off,” a man’s deep voice commands. I try to free myself of his grip, yet he is stronger, his fingers bruising, his grip never wavering. He yanks my hood off, revealing my black hair. I continue averting my eyes. Anyone could tell I wore contact lenses if they looked closely. My heart skips a beat when I hear his voice again.

“Look at me, girl,” the voice grumbles.

I shake my head, trying yet again to wriggle out of his grip. He grabs my face, forcing my eyes to look into his. I can see people watching the scene play out, fear clear on their faces. I soon figure out why when my eyes dart to his gold reptilian eyes, bearing into mine. This man is Dragon, I hear him growl lowly; it rumbles through his chest, his eyes flicker dangerously, eyes that weren’t human, his tan skin is warm even through my parka. I barely reached the middle of his chest. His hair was dark, almost black in color but longer on top, he looked like he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, stubble lining his face, his features were sharp, high cheekbones and nice full lips, he looked like a woman’s wet dream. Yet his aura was intimidating, his grip on me unrelenting.