How Not To Fall For A Dragon
Chapter 51 51- Never Flirt With Anyone Else Around A Jealous Dragon
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When I was flying back from my home, and my hoard, I had a plan. A good one. I would get back before Lexi was ready. I would knock on her door. Do all
that polite, human nonsense that inexplicably makes her smile. Then I would look at her outfit properly. Carefully. I would catalogue it the way I catalogue
everything else of value. Colours. Materials. Symbols. Patterns. Anything that might give me another clue about what she is. Because these outfits are
supposed to reveal things about us, represent us. Mine certainly does. Dark, but not entirely black. Deep blues that mirror my scales when the light hits
them right. Gold embroidery, intricate and deliberate, the kind of craftsmanship that satisfies a dragon’s eye. No restrictive tie. No foolishly delicate shoes. I
show wealth and power, but not by pretending to be something I’m not. The embroidery across my back links over my shoulders, the patterns forming
something unmistakable to anyone who knows what to look for, wings. Dragon wings, layered and precise. It says this is what I am. It says I am dangerous,
valuable, and unapologetic. So I expected Lexi’s outfit to speak just as clearly. I was prepared to observe. To analyse. To ask questions. Instead, the moment
she turned around and I saw her. Then… Nothing. No thoughts. No deductions. No hypotheses. My mind went completely, infuriatingly blank. All I could see was white, soft, shimmering, luminous. Not plain. Never plain. The fabric caught the light like something alive, like moonlight on water, like pearl and fire caught together. She didn’t look fragile in it. She looked untouchable. Sacred. Like something that didn’t belong in a room full of predators. And then there’s the gold, not the jewellery I gave her, but her hair. Laying in soft waves over her shoulders, shining. Like treasure. Beautiful. Rare. Precious. And suddenly all my careful questions evaporated, replaced by a single, useless truth. She looks perfect. Now we’re walking toward the courtyard where the dance is being held, and Lexi has her hand looped loosely through my arm. Casual and trusting. Like she hasn’t noticed how every instinct in me is screaming, I can feel eyes on her. On us. I have to consciously stop myself from tightening my grip, from pulling her closer, from turning us both around and taking her somewhere secure, somewhere private, somewhere no one else can see her like this. Because looking the way she does right now? Anyone would want to steal her. Anyone would want to take what isn’t theirs. And that simply isn’t going to happen. I’ve been careful. Patient. Strategic. I’ve walked her to every class. Shielded her without smothering her. Given her pieces of my hoard slowly, deliberately, letting her adjust to their weight. Letting me adjust to the idea of her accepting them. I’ve been working toward this. Toward her choosing me. And I refuse, absolutely refuse, to let anyone undo all of that hard work
now. Not tonight. Not ever.
We reach the exit to the dorms, and before I can even reach for the door, it swings open on its own. I tense immediately. My instincts spike, muscles coiling, attention sharpening, as I brace for someone to be standing on the other side. A student. A teacher. A threat. But there’s nothing there. No footsteps. No presence. Just open air and the night beyond. What the hell?
“Thanks, Academy!” Lexi chimes cheerfully, like this is the most normal thing in the world. The Academy. I glance sharply at the doors as we step through them, eyes narrowing. Since when does the Academy open doors for her? The doors shut behind us with a firm, final click that feels distinctly unfriendly, to me, specifically. Almost like a shove between the shoulder blades. I don’t like that.
“Hm…” I murmur under my breath, casting a suspicious look back at the entrance. The Academy seems to… Like Lexi. A lot. That in itself isn’t a problem. Another powerful entity watching over her is useful. But if it starts interfering with my access to her? We will have words. We start toward the courtyard, and I can already hear the music drifting through the air, low, rhythmic, layered with laughter and voices. Lights glow ahead, warm and flickering, illuminating the paths between buildings. Lexi’s hand tightens on my arm. Not in fear. In excitement. She speeds up slightly, practically tugging me along. and I allow it because I like seeing her like this, open, eager, bright. Her eyes are wide as she takes everything in, drinking in the decorations, the lights strung overhead, the movement of people gathering. She almost trips over her own skirts. If she weren’t holding onto me, she would have gone down. Not that I would have let her hit the ground. Still, I adjust my stride instinctively, grounding her without breaking her momentum. The whispers start almost immediately. I hear them the way I hear everything, layers of sound sorting themselves automatically. They’re talking about us. About the way Lexi’s arm is looped through mine like she belongs there. About how our outfits match in a way that is very much not accidental. About the jewellery she’s wearing, jewellery that any creature with half a brain knows could only have come from a dragon’s hoard. The Academy is powerful, but it cannot conjure this. Not fire–gems. Not craftsmanship this old. Not wealth with history and intent woven into it. The Academy cannot give Lexi everything I can. That thought settles in my chest with a dark, satisfied weight. Still… It’s probably good that the Academy likes her. Another force aligned with her safety. I can tolerate that. What I don’t like is the way people are looking at her. Not just the wary glances they usually give me, those are familiar, almost boring. These are different. Their eyes linger on Lexi. Follow the line of her dress. Catch on the glitter in her hair. Trace the curve of her smile. I hear the word beautiful whispered more than once. Covetous. Hungry. Even the ones who’ve been avoiding her since she started spending time with me can’t help it. They’re drawn to her anyway. Like moths who know the flame will burn but lean closer regardless. If I weren’t standing right here, if my presence weren’t an unmistakable warning… They would already be surrounding her. Talking to her. Touching her. Trying to claim pieces of her attention like they have any right to it. The urge to take her somewhere else hits me hard and fast. To remove her from the crowd. To put walls between her and everyone else. Somewhere only I can see her like this. Somewhere safe. Somewhere mine. I flex my fingers once, grounding myself. They don’t deserve to be neat her.
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Chapter 51 51 Never Flirt With Anyone Else Around A Jealous Dragon
“This is beautifull text says, practically vibrating at my side.
“Do you see the vines over the walls? They weren’t there before. And those lights, I thought they were like, electric fairy lights, string lights, but no. They’re not. There’s no wires. She points out. I forget sometimes that she hasn’t spent much time around magic. Things that seem almost normal to me are new and exciting to her. Her head tilts back as she studies them, eyes reflecting the glow.
“Are they magic? Like the ones we were learning in class? I wonder who made them. I can’t imagine being able to make so many. Does it take a lot of focus, I wonder… Or maybe the Academy is doing it?” She barely pauses for breath. I watch her instead of the lights.
“I believe the professor for Basic Spellcasting made them.” I say calmly. I heard someone talking about it earlier, two students near the doors, speculating about the workload and the precision required. I tend to hear a lot of things people assume I’m not listening to.
“Oh…” She says, impressed all over again.
“That makes sense. It’s stunning.” She adds. She looks around once more, then her expression brightens with sudden intent.
“Oh! I should take some pictures. Of the decorations, and of us.” She turns toward me, already lifting her phone.
“Us first, Smile!” She orders. Before I can respond, she snaps a picture. I raise an eyebrow slowly, more amused than anything else.
“Where did you pull that from?” I ask, glancing pointedly at her hands. She grins like she’s been waiting for the question.
“My dress has pockets!” She announces triumphantly. She immediately proves it, shoving her hands into the pockets and pulling them outward, fanning her skirts slightly as she does. The fabric shimmers and flows, catching the light, and the look on her face is pure, unfiltered delight. I blink once.
“That’s… Great?” I say, uncertain. She gasps softly, scandalised.
“It is great. It’s one of the greatest things ever.” She informs me. Her enthusiasm is genuine. Unshakeable. Infectious. I laugh before I can stop myself, a
short, real sound that surprises even me.
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“Well, alright then. Let’s take your photos. Then we can find something to cat.” I concede. Lexi nods happily, already turning away to frame another shot,
completely satisfied with both the evening and her pockets. I watch her for a moment longer than necessary before following. She really is… Something.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
