Chapter Two
When Gerran arrived at his home about an hour later, Esmer couldn't help but notice that he didn't live in an isolated cave in the middle of nowhere. The dragon had landed in what looked like a huge rocky compound, with stone buildings all along the mountain edges, and artfully carved walkways. She saw a mix of dragons sunbathing, and humans walking around, conversing with one another. She also spotted something that resembled a rather glamorous castle, carved right into the mountain face itself, looming out over the other weathered buildings.
“This is your home?” Esmer rubbed her cold hands, the statue wedged between her legs.
“Yes,” Gerran replied. “This is High Roost. It's one of the biggest dragon clans in the Wilderness, if not the biggest.” As he finished speaking, the humans waved at Gerran.
“Hey! Prince Gerran! You're back! And you have a princess! Wow! Well done!” Suddenly, a crowd seemed to converge around Gerran, admiring his new catch, pointing at Esmer as if she was the greatest thing ever.
Prince Gerran?
Her stomach dropped a little at the revelation. Dear Gods. I'm riding a dragon prince? Dragons have princes?
Gerran began ambling through the crowd, even as a dragon screeched from the rock he lay upon, “How did you catch this one? Did you burn down the tower she was in? Did you disguise yourself and find a way to escape with her?”
“Actually,” Gerran replied, “She grabbed my attention and asked to be taken. I probably wouldn't have come back with a princess, otherwise.”
At this statement, confused murmurs spread amongst the humans and dragons. Esmer noted the humans wearing warm clothing, adapted better for a life in the Wilderness. Except, now that she examined them closer, their eyes appeared off. Something about their features spoke of a feral nature, different from the humans of the kingdoms. She found herself wondering if they were actually humans at all.
“Are you sure?” One of the humans said. “Perhaps you misheard her?”
“Oh, no,” Gerran said, his voice sounding as if it was smiling. “I even settled down for her and she climbed onto my back without protest. She definitely wanted to be taken.”
“But that's insane,” someone else said. “Princesses don't want to be taken.”
“This one does,” Esmer said then, projecting her voice across the crowd. “And I'm glad to be here!”
Some of the humans actually shied away from her, as if she was diseased. “She's mad!” One muttered.
Gerran merely chuckled and plodded along, walking Esmer towards the castle.
Esmer found the reactions around her amusing. She might have expected such reactions in the humans of Naterus. Not so from the dragons of High Roost, who appeared almost offended at how un-princess-like she was.
She snorted, before Gerran halted at a small stone door to the right wing of the castle. “You should slide off now, princess. I'll need to change.”
Change?
Puzzled, Esmer did as bid, and gaped in sheer astonishment when she saw Gerran morph from his blue dragon form, to a human with sapphire eyes. Speechless, she watched as Gerran opened the stone door with a key from his pocket.
The people who she thought were humans – were actually dragons. Not humans. Her eyes trailed over Gerran's dark, curly hair, his heavy, hooded eyelids that gave him a half-asleep expression, and the noble curve of his cheeks and chin. Those liquid blue eyes seemed to pierce into her soul, and she shivered in pleasant, surprised delight.
His human form was utterly gorgeous. Esmer struggled to take it all in, even as Gerran indicated for her to go inside. She did as bid, and he closed the door behind.
“Normally, princess, I'd take you to one of the tower rooms in this castle and lock you up there. But I suspect that would be a poor reward for someone who wanted to be taken.” He moved sinuously through the room, in complete control of his body, and she watched him, mesmerized from the motion. Dear Gods, this shifter was hot. Already, her cheeks started to flame. She smelled power from him, and her body already started reacting to his presence.
Probably because I wasn't expecting this. She took a deep breath, gathering what remained of her wits together.
Prince Gerran. A dragon from a royal clan in the Wilderness. Until about ten minutes ago, Esmer had absolutely no clue that dragons even possessed a social structure such as this. Guess I'm going to be learning a lot of new things. Hey. I wonder if I'll bump into Marea? Is that possible?
“So, I ask you this, princess. Will you try to escape from me?”
“Depends,” Esmer replied, feeling bold. “If you treat me like dirt, I probably will. But honestly, I've wanted to meet a dragon for a long time. I'm interested to see more of your society.”
“Good,” Gerran said, a lazy smile covering his face. He folded his arms, apparently satisfied with the answer. “It will make things easier. We have a whole bunch of protocol for princesses, usually because they're reluctant. You can imagine the difficulties we have with looking after them.”
“Possibly,” Esmer said, though she expected that princesses who liked being those typical traditional princesses might have a harder time with dragon captivity. You were supposed to learn things like how to scream and how to react when a dragon took you. Esmer had pretty much broken all the rules in the kingdom notebook in the space of an hour. “I take it you guys don't get very many princess volunteers.”
“You could say that,” Gerran murmured, his storm blue eyes fixated upon her. Esmer found that look very distracting. He was so, well, manly. Standing there tall and proud, like a prince, a commanding expression upon his noble features. A hint of stubble displayed upon his cheeks, and his blue eyes, with those sloping hoods made him so damn dreamy.
If it wasn't for the fact that he happened to be a dragon, Esmer felt fairly certain all the princesses she knew would be clawing over her, vying for his attention.
“Will you be wanting me to do chores? I heard dragons do that with their princesses.”
“We do,” Gerran said, nodding. “Honestly, if you're not going to run, you can do whatever. The chores are more of a distraction.”
“Eh. I can cook. Wait.” An idea popped into Esmer's head. “Could I learn magic?”
Gerran acted surprised at the request. “You want to learn magic?”
“Yes! I didn't get the chance back in my kingdom. I actually wanted to learn magic and have a pet dragon when I was little.”
Gerran smiled. The enthusiasm she gave him was not the sullen demeanor of someone plotting to run away. It resembled the excitement of someone intending to stick around, and he clearly saw it. “I suppose I can look into it. I know a few witches in the Wilderness who might be interested in taking on a princess as an apprentice.”
“Fine with me,” Esmer declared. The excitement continued brewing in her, as possibilities exploded within her. Dragons had a society. They consorted with magic and monsters on a daily basis. Already, things sounded way better here than her home in Naterus. “I can bake you something nice tonight if we have the ingredients, as well. A homecoming, to celebrate your capture of a princess. You do celebrate things like that, yes?”
The prince gave her a wry twitch of his lips. “Perhaps. I'm sure you'll cook wonderfully...” He closed the distance between them, and gave her a languid, impish look, his hooded eyes boring into her. Esmer shivered, and her mind skipped to the fairy Godmother prophecy.
Oh, Gods. Gerran was a prince.
Surely it didn't mean that? And if it did, wouldn't there be far more Questers aiming to take down the prince of dragons? The hoards he concealed must be glorious and glittering with riches. Would Gerran fight alone, or would he employ party members, like typical five man band Questers?
I forget how dangerous it actually is for dragons to take a princess. The reward for them must be higher than the risk in their society. It's the only thing that makes sense.
She preferred focusing on that thought, rather than the fact Gerran stood so close that she smelled the deep, musky scent of his maleness, heard the narrow huff of his breath, felt his presence slowly envelop and overwhelm her, as if he was expanding to fill every empty spot in the room.
Maybe she felt that effect because of the knowledge his true form happened to be a humongous blue scaled dragon. Maybe she sensed the aura of the dragon, wrapped up in his tiny human meat frame.
Rather than the fact she might be harboring some serious sexual attraction towards his physical form.
When I wanted to have a dragon as a pet, this wasn't quite what I had in mind.
She bit down on her lip to suppress a laugh, even as Gerran bowed. “I look forward to whatever it is you plan to cook later. Just... lay off on the poisons, will you? Most princesses seem to obtain the bright idea to add deadly herbs at some point. So I'll need to explain to you that dragons are immune to virtually all poisons.”
“Except dragonleaf, right?” Esmer said, wanting to prove she wasn't completely ignorant. Gerran's eyes flickered slightly at the statement.
“Yes. Thankfully, dragonleaf is rare, since we make a habit of burning it whenever we find it.”
Esmer smiled. Although she didn't plan to poison anyone, she found the look of worry creasing his brow strangely empowering. As if he wasn't sure just what exactly he'd agreed to let into his home.