EXTRACT FOR
The Werewolf And The Dragon's Hoard
(Arian Wulf)

Ariel made her way up from the dungeon to her room, careful to avoid Banner, who roamed the stairs like a zombie when he couldn't sleep at night. He had gotten too used to the midnight shifts.



She took a scorching bath and froze at the sound of footsteps when she exited the bathroom. There was someone outside of the door. It wasn't Banner, who dragged his feet, nor was it Joshua, who had sequestered himself in his room after being temporarily relieved of his duties, probably in an attempt to sleep off the exhaustion that was so deep in his bones that it was etched in. She understood how he felt.



She worried it was Uffiz before she remembered that she had killed the man.



The floors on the upper floor were wood, every step creaking no matter how carefully the person threads upon it. The person was not making any effort to be discreet, however. They're slow, so whoever was coming was not in a hurry, but they're also heavy and deliberate, the steps of a man who was confident that whatever trouble he met, he could handle with ease.



This did not bode well for her. She was a decent fighter on her best day, but she was ten second away from keeling over. She grabbed the knife that she kept below her pillow, more for show than anything else. If the situation turned dire, she was much more likely to use fire.



She was surprised by the knock on her door when the person reached her room, but whoever was on the other side did not wait for her to respond before opening the door.



She saw a silhouette of a man looming at her door and was unable to see much more due to the light coming from outside of the room, her eyes needing a moment to adjust. The voice, however, was deep and threatening, a soft growl of a thing that commanded her attention.



The person announced his arrival with a soft, "Hello there."



She looked up. And then up some more because the man was suddenly standing very close and he was very tall. He was also gorgeous, golden eyes more like a cat's than human's and forearms wider than her neck. The shirt that he was wearing was straining to keep all of that man muscles contained. He carried no visible weapon, no gun or knife.



The most striking thing about him was his hair, which was the color of blood, a dark ember that looked like it could burn.



He looked down at Ariel and then suddenly she was being lifted off her feet and pushed up against the wall. She opened her mouth to protest the rough treatment, hands pressed up against the man with the aim of pushing him off. She might as well have been pushing against solid wall. Even solid walls did not provide so much resistance against her. His nose found the pulse in her neck and he inhaled so sharply she felt it on her skin.



"Hatchling," he growled. "What are you doing out of your nest? Where is your guardian? Why are you here?"



"Hatch- hatchling?" she gasped, trying to push herself free to no avail. "I'm not a hatchling! Who're you?"



"Who am I?" he moved slightly so that his nose is no longer pressed against her pulse and fixed her with a loaded stare. "You have been trespassing in my nest for the last several days and you don't recognize me?"