Read Online Waking the Dragon by Juliette Cross - Free Book Online
Authors: Juliette Cross
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Morgon man, never gives up whether he’s beaten or not. That’s the lesson of the Obsidian Games. A lesson Morgons live by.”
Another roar erupted from the crowd. The Saber was unconscious beneath his opponent. The Storm-gale held his arms up in victory, a trickle of blood sliding down his face, his teeth bared in a vicious grin, dark purple wings flared out in a powerful stance.
Kraven arched an eyebrow. “See,” he said before opening the gate and entering the cage. His wings beated twice to bring him to the floor, so he could raise the arm of the victor.
I shook my head. I did see, but I didn’t understand the relevance of letting someone beat you into unconsciousness for pride. The male ego—a dangerous force.
I sighed and glanced across the ring, my heart stuttering. Directly opposite me was a black-haired, black-eyed Morgon, gripping the bars. Something was different about him, the way he scrutinized the crowd, not enjoying the entertainment in the Pit as others did. I watched him with an unwavering eye. Then I saw it. His right eye blinked, his mouth twitching on the same side. My pulse pounded, a cold shiver crawling up my spine. He did it again, exactly how Bennett Cremwell had described.
He slid away from the Pit, vanishing into a sea of Morgons.
I pushed through the throng, weaving away from the cage. The music started again now that the fight was over.
He was at the bar, knocking back a drink. Perfect. I made my move, slipping into character, slowing my stride to exude sensuality rather than my usual swift step of determination. Moving like a woman transfixed by the mighty Morgon, I sidled up next to him, waving over the bartender—a slender Morgon female with hunter-green wings.
“What’ll you have?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure.” I turned to the man next to me, the man I’d been looking for all night who reeked of money in a silk gray button-down. “What should I have?” I laced my words like a sultry invitation. “I’ve been drinking beer tonight, but I need something a bit stronger.”
His gaze slid over my face, neck, and hair, assessing every line. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“Brevette is always a good choice.” His voice was a black, silky serpent—sexy and deadly in the same vein.
Brevette was a human-made whiskey. Strong and expensive. The perfect drink to lure in a human girl looking for a big-spender. I ordered a glass and reached in my back pocket for money. He flipped out a large bill. “Allow me.”
“Thanks.” I flashed a bright smile, leaning forward and flipping my hair over one shoulder. While watching the bartender, I felt his eyes following the design on my back.
“I’ve not seen you here before.”
“This is my first time. Cool place.” I smiled again, letting my eyes trail obviously over his wings in an appreciative manner. Sharp and strong, an odd shiny black, as if covered in shimmery scales, and cut more jagged than other Morgon wings.
He reached out a hand. “And who do I have the pleasure to be standing next to?”
I took his hand. “Who do I have the pleasure of standing next to?”
His mouth and eye did that tic motion, then his lips opened in a wide grin. He took my hand, not exactly shaking it, but not letting it go. Against all my instincts, I didn’t pull away, fighting my natural inclination to narrow my eyes in defiance.
“My name is Borgus.”
Hmph. Doubted that.
“Moira.” I saw no reason not to give him my real name. Even if he discovered my last name and tracked me down, the only thing of interest he’d find was that I was a rich girl from an aristocratic family with a sister who intermarried with a Morgon. All my articles from The Herald were published under my pen name, Marina Creed. I wanted to make my own way, not on the coattails of my father’s.
“Moira.” He sang my name in a breathy whisper.
I had to physically keep myself from trembling.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
I smiled,
Another roar erupted from the crowd. The Saber was unconscious beneath his opponent. The Storm-gale held his arms up in victory, a trickle of blood sliding down his face, his teeth bared in a vicious grin, dark purple wings flared out in a powerful stance.
Kraven arched an eyebrow. “See,” he said before opening the gate and entering the cage. His wings beated twice to bring him to the floor, so he could raise the arm of the victor.
I shook my head. I did see, but I didn’t understand the relevance of letting someone beat you into unconsciousness for pride. The male ego—a dangerous force.
I sighed and glanced across the ring, my heart stuttering. Directly opposite me was a black-haired, black-eyed Morgon, gripping the bars. Something was different about him, the way he scrutinized the crowd, not enjoying the entertainment in the Pit as others did. I watched him with an unwavering eye. Then I saw it. His right eye blinked, his mouth twitching on the same side. My pulse pounded, a cold shiver crawling up my spine. He did it again, exactly how Bennett Cremwell had described.
He slid away from the Pit, vanishing into a sea of Morgons.
I pushed through the throng, weaving away from the cage. The music started again now that the fight was over.
He was at the bar, knocking back a drink. Perfect. I made my move, slipping into character, slowing my stride to exude sensuality rather than my usual swift step of determination. Moving like a woman transfixed by the mighty Morgon, I sidled up next to him, waving over the bartender—a slender Morgon female with hunter-green wings.
“What’ll you have?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure.” I turned to the man next to me, the man I’d been looking for all night who reeked of money in a silk gray button-down. “What should I have?” I laced my words like a sultry invitation. “I’ve been drinking beer tonight, but I need something a bit stronger.”
His gaze slid over my face, neck, and hair, assessing every line. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“Brevette is always a good choice.” His voice was a black, silky serpent—sexy and deadly in the same vein.
Brevette was a human-made whiskey. Strong and expensive. The perfect drink to lure in a human girl looking for a big-spender. I ordered a glass and reached in my back pocket for money. He flipped out a large bill. “Allow me.”
“Thanks.” I flashed a bright smile, leaning forward and flipping my hair over one shoulder. While watching the bartender, I felt his eyes following the design on my back.
“I’ve not seen you here before.”
“This is my first time. Cool place.” I smiled again, letting my eyes trail obviously over his wings in an appreciative manner. Sharp and strong, an odd shiny black, as if covered in shimmery scales, and cut more jagged than other Morgon wings.
He reached out a hand. “And who do I have the pleasure to be standing next to?”
I took his hand. “Who do I have the pleasure of standing next to?”
His mouth and eye did that tic motion, then his lips opened in a wide grin. He took my hand, not exactly shaking it, but not letting it go. Against all my instincts, I didn’t pull away, fighting my natural inclination to narrow my eyes in defiance.
“My name is Borgus.”
Hmph. Doubted that.
“Moira.” I saw no reason not to give him my real name. Even if he discovered my last name and tracked me down, the only thing of interest he’d find was that I was a rich girl from an aristocratic family with a sister who intermarried with a Morgon. All my articles from The Herald were published under my pen name, Marina Creed. I wanted to make my own way, not on the coattails of my father’s.
“Moira.” He sang my name in a breathy whisper.
I had to physically keep myself from trembling.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
I smiled,
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