To Love A Dragon (BOYxBOY) *SLOWLY UPDATING*

Chapter 14

Dragons are known to hoard beautiful things. This is common knowledge. Gold, gems, crowns, precious metals – all of these could be found in an average dragon nest. A dragon’s obsession with beautiful things outweighs even that of a greedy spiteful king.

It is unheard of that a dragon would attach himself to something that is living and breakable. Dragons have long lifespans, and so crave objects that have more chance of making the journey with them. It was against nature itself for Kyriakos to keep Alex under his protection.

Now, should something of a dragon’s hoard be harmed or taken in any way before the dragon’s eyes, he or she who had done the deed would likely be dead within seconds. Either that, or hunted down for the rest of his/her life. So you could imagine what it was like for Kyriakos, to see the only thing he held dear in the world broken and bleeding before him.

His reaction to something of his being wounded, of course, was catastrophic.

Strong, unyielding hands constricted around the elf’s throat. Just a tad more pressure. Just a twist of Kyriakos’ hand, and the elf would be dead. He could almost hear it now; the crack of bone, the give underneath his fingertips. He could feel the fearful thrum of the elf’s blood through his jugular. He imagined ripping it out with his teeth.

No.

That would be too fast.

He wanted to watch Istas suffer. He wanted to see as the light slowly left that god forsaken elf’s eyes. For once, he was thinking like a dragon again. His exterior had become soft to accommodate a human’s manner, to accommodate for him. But Alex wasn’t watching right now. Alex was passed out in a puddle of his own blood. And so soon would Istas be.

He could only hear his enraged blood pumping in his veins. Beyond that, he could hear a hushed silence, and a woman’s scream, hands grabbing at him, trying to hold him back, but his strength could far outmatch one she-elf.

“Please!!!” Desperate, pleading, and broken words came through the thick fog of hatred that kept his rational mind at bay. His eyes came back to focus.

Istas’ pulse was weak and beginning to die beneath his iron grip. The elf underneath him had long since passed out, unable to breath, and there was a dark purple ring around his neck matching that of Kyriakos’ handprints. He felt then with more clarity a woman holding onto him, crying into his shoulder, haven given up the fight to free Istas.

Perhaps sensing his pause, Hasasha whimpered out, “Have mercy… Alex – he needs you. Go to him. I beg of you. He would be horrified to see what you have done.”

Kyriakos allowed his hands to slip from the neck of the nearly deceased elf. Hasasha choked on her tears and slowly lowered herself to Istas, laying her head down on his wounded chest. At hearing a tired and world-weary heartbeat, her eyes widened in shock. The dragon had allowed Istas to keep his life.

“He’s not worth it,” Kyriakos said hollowly, answering the unasked question. He breathed heavily through his nose as his tortured ruby eyes landed on the broken form of the fallen prince. With weak legs he stood and went to him, kneeling by his side. Even unconscious the prince’s beautiful face was twisted in pain, hands resting on the wound at his abdomen, as if trying to keep the pain away. Kyriakos felt something in his chest falter at the sight of someone so precious to him hurt so badly.

Kyriakos lifted and held one of the prince’s bloodied hands with a gentleness that spoke volumes, eyes glazing over when he saw the inflamed wound, dark veins spreading out from the point of contact with the blade. Seeing this only proved one thing – the blade had been poisoned. The scent in the air told him it was the deadly… “Nightshade.” His voice came out in an undefinable growl, low, deep, and rumbling in his chest like a thunder storm.