Elara's grip on the torch tightened, her sweaty palms threatening to slip. She had braced herself for fire, for claws, for the instant snap of jaws. Instead, the dragon laughed.
The sound rolled through her bones, low and earth-shaking.
Her voice came out sharper than she intended. "Glad I could entertain you. Should I juggle next? Maybe sing while you decide whether to roast me or chew me alive?"
Golden eyes gleamed back at her, not with hunger - at least, not the kind she feared.
"Bold," he rumbled. "Most brides fall sobbing at my feet. You glare."
"I glare," she shot back, "because I don't want to die looking pathetic."
Her knees felt weak, but she kept her chin high.
The dragon lowered his massive head, heat rolling off him in waves as he inhaled her scent. His breath scalded her skin. She flinched, but didn't move.
"Not just bold," he said after a long pause. "Defiant. Interesting."
Elara blinked. "Interesting? That's what you call your dinner?"
Another rumble of laughter shook the cavern.
"Dinner? No. I don't eat my brides."
Her stomach lurched. She stared, torch trembling. "You… what?"
He drew back, stretching his wings, the leathery crack echoing like thunder. Black scales caught the torchlight, rippling with the muscle beneath. His tail scraped the stone, metal against stone.
"If I wished to feed," he said, "I would hunt. I don't need brides for that." His molten gaze pinned her, sharp and unrelenting. "You've been lied to, little one."
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Lied to? All the girls before her - the centuries of offerings - what had they faced, if not death?
"Then what happens to them?" she whispered.
The dragon didn't answer. He only turned, massive wings folding as he walked deeper into the cavern. His voice echoed back, low and certain:
"Come. See for yourself."
Every nerve in her body screamed at her to stay put. But his tone wasn't a command. It was a challenge. And Elara had never once walked away from a dare.
She swallowed, lifted her torch, and followed.
---
The cavern opened into a chamber that stole her breath.
Treasure glittered in the shadows - coins, jewels, crowns - but scattered, half-buried, as if abandoned. What gripped her attention wasn't the gold, but the remnants: torn gowns, silver combs, books with faded ink. Human things.
Her stomach twisted. Proof. Proof of the brides who came before.
"You said you don't eat them," she whispered. "Then where are they?"
For a moment, silence pressed heavy against her. Then, behind her, a voice - softer now, almost human.
"They left."
Elara spun.
The dragon was gone. In his place stood a man.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Black hair falling carelessly into golden eyes that gleamed with the same inhuman light. His bare chest bore faint, scale-like markings, like the beast had been etched into his skin. He radiated danger - and something else, something even more unsettling.
He was beautiful.
Elara's mouth opened, words scrambling. "You - you're - what - "
His lips curved, not quite a smile. "Your people call me dragon. Once, long ago, I was Kael."
Her torch nearly slipped from her hands. "This… this is a trick. A glamour to lure me closer before you - "
"Before I what?" His gaze cut through her like steel. "If I meant you harm, you'd already be ash."
Her pulse thudded wildly. She hated the way her eyes kept betraying her - skimming over his face, his mouth, the lines of his chest. He's a monster, she reminded herself. A cursed monster.
But her voice betrayed her defiance. "Then what do you want with me, Kael?"
Something flickered in his eyes - something raw, aching, painfully human.
"What I want," he said slowly, "is the one thing I've been denied for centuries. Someone who will stay."