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For a second, he let me go, but it was only to grip my jacket and wrench it free from my arms. He tossed it aside on the bed, and just as I was ready to pitch forward and make a run for it, he grabbed my wrists and yanked them up above my head once again.
“Let me go!” I screeched.
“Not a chance, little one,” Murtagh growled.
He prowled over and reached for me. For a moment, I stared into those beautiful jade green eyes and lost myself in them, at least until I realized that his hands were gripping the collar of my shirt and I looked down.
The ends of his fingers were pointed. Instead of fingernails, there were definitive sharp black claws in their place.
I blinked.
I had to be seeing things.
My breath caught in my throat. This had to be some trick of the light, some illusion conjured by fear and the surreal environment I found myself in.
Right?
But as I stared, part of his hand began to change, the skin morphing into a scaled silvery black color that shimmered under the room’s soft lighting. It was like nothing I had ever seen, both terrifying and beautiful in its otherworldliness. The scales caught the light, casting tiny rainbows across his skin, and for a moment, I was utterly captivated, my fear momentarily forgotten.
Then the realization hit me like a cold splash of water. I was not imagining things. This was real. His hand, those claws, the scales—they were all too real.
I’m crazy. This is crazy. The thoughts raced through my head in a panicked frenzy. My mind struggled to make sense of what my eyes were seeing, to rationalize the impossible. But there was no denying the evidence right in front of me.
Murtagh and Caspian really were dragons.
Unless I was crazy?
I blinked, hard, a lot, but the illusion never wavered, never left. There were just those claws. Solid, scary, and real.
This was real. Real Dragons.
And I was completely at their mercy.
With a jolt, I snapped my eyes back up to his, looking between him and Caspian and shaking my head.
“This isn’t real,” I said out loud.
“Oh, it’s very real, little one,” Caspian said in my ear, sounding almost evilly delighted.
“Dragons aren’t real. They’re a myth. A fucking fairytale. A fantasy,” I cried out, trying to rationalize what I was seeing, trying to force my brain to stop hallucinating.
It didn’t stop Murtagh from using those same claws to rip through the fabric of my t-shirt like it was nothing more than a thin sheet of paper. The cloth gave way like the Red Sea, parting underneath his sharp claw so easily it would have been incredible if I wasn’t so caught up in my own head.
“No. We’re not. We’re real, little thief, and we’ve been waiting a very long time for you. Now, I think it’s about time I showed you how much I missed you.” Murtagh grinned, his smirk doing dangerous things to my insides.
He finished shredding through my t-shirt until it fell away to the floor and left me standing there in nothing more than my bra and panties. Those didn’t last long either. Using the sharp edge of his claw, he slid it underneath the thin connector between the cups of my bra and jerked it upwards, ripping through it in an instant.
My bra burst open, and my breasts spilled out. I would have wrenched my body to the side if not for the fear that his claws would accidentally cut me, so I stayed as still as I could and glared daggers in his direction.
Coolly, his gaze slid downward, settling on my breasts and my hardening nipples like they were the most intriguing thing in the world. Probably in the same way I had been looking at the gems in the tub.
“I had always wondered if your little nipples would match your pretty pink pussy. They are even prettier than I could have ever imagined,” he murmured, his reverent awe enough to make my cheeks blush red hot. His other hand reached for me, and I flinched, but it still looked human enough as he took my left nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger.
Then, he pinched it. Hard.
In an instant, pain blossomed from my nipple and radiated around my breast, shooting straight down to my clit like a lightning bolt. I rose up even higher onto my toes, inadvertently pressing towards him as he tugged on my sensitive bud. Then he started to twist it, and I held my breath, trying to keep it together and not make a sound, no matter how much I wanted to.
I didn’t want to, did I?
