Dragon's Token

Copyright © 2023 by Isla Elrick All Rights Reserved LIFE-IN-DEATH Press, April 2023 v. 230327 islaelrick.com This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, institutions, families, etc. is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in any form, by any means electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system currently in use or yet to be devised. This ebook is licensed for your personal use and may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase a copy for that person. If you did not purchase this book, or it was not purchased for your use, then you have an unauthorized copy. Please go to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting my hard work and copyright. Print ISBN: 9781951328702 Created with Vellum Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Want More? About the Author Chapter 1 The remainder of my and Epiphron’s night was not particularly restful, wrapped up in each other as we were. But I must have drifted off eventually, because next I knew, the sun was rising, the colors of the stained glass just beginning to kiss my skin. I raised my head, confused as to where I was for a moment. When my gaze fell on Epiphron, sprawled out beside me and sleeping soundly, vivid memories came flooding back. A jolt of heat raced through my stomach, dragging a soft groan from me, when I remembered last night—what he had said, what I had said, what we’d done. Had that truly happened? It seemed like a dream, and yet the state of my thighs confirmed otherwise. Taking a deep, calming breath, I eased closer to the slumbering dragon and lay against his chest. In half-sleep, he murmured and drew a strong arm around my waist, pulling me flush to him. My heart ached. “Good morning,” I whispered. The urge to lean in and pepper his pale, angular face with kisses was almost overpowering. My voice woke him, and he blinked tiredly only once before seeming completely alert. His slitted pupils constricted in the morning light, then dilated, and a genuine smile graced his perfect bowed lips. “Mag.” It sounded as though he couldn’t believe this was real, either. I only hoped he did not regret it. As I took in his expression, new resolve entered my body. My heartache was replaced with excitement … or perhaps, more accurately, restlessness. Our journey to the dwarven city of Skaftafell had not ended as I’d hoped. The artifact we sought, Durinn’s Box, was long lost. Only descendants of its creator, an arcane architect from before the Shift, could track its whereabouts. We’d been able to make contact with one of the last of Durinn’s bloodline, Throum, but despite our bitter determination, he had been killed during our escape from the dwarven authorities. Without the Box, I had no idea how we would return Epiphron to the ice fields he’d once called home. I was ashamed of the failure, but Epiphron had been quick to remind me there was still hope. Before his death, Throum had mentioned another descendant. His daughter. We may yet breach the Wall of Everwinter. Once we did, we could figure out how to stop it. I leaned to place a kiss on those perfect lips, but stopped short, averting my eyes. “We ought to get started at once. The sooner we find Throum’s daughter, the sooner we can get you home.” The thought of Epiphron leaving just as I was discovering my feelings for him was tearing me apart, but this was how it had to be, and indulging in romantic kisses would only complicate matters. There was no other way. Going home to his clan, to his mother and siblings, was the least Epiphron deserved after the enthrallment and isolation he’d suffered—and I was determined to make it happen. Epiphron’s gaze shifted, and, reflexively it seemed, he pulled me closer. “I’m not certain that is wise.” With one gauntleted finger, he traced the cuts and bruises covering my arm. The obsidian metal was cold to the touch and made me shiver. “Our first trip, we went entirely unprepared, and look where we ended up. No Throum, we both nearly dead….” I neglected to tell him that nearly dead was even closer to the truth than he realized. I could still feel the arrow impaling me. My body had grown cold within the grip of oblivion. If not for Galdramaður Amon’s ring of temporal relapse, I would have perished mere seconds later. With a sigh, I conceded. “You have a point.” “How generous of you,” he purred in amusement. Idly, I ran my fingers through his long raven hair, contemplating our next move. “How would you have me prepare? I have no magic that may match up to ballistae and a regiment of irate dwarves.” “Armor would be an acceptable start. And perhaps a plan.” My cheeks heated. “I suppose it wouldn’t do to fly in as we did last time. Our reception was … not ideal.” With a sigh, I sat up, partially shimmying out of his embrace. “I need a bath before all else, however.” Epiphron looked me up and down narrowly. “Did I not lick you clean enough earlier this morning? I could try again….” I nearly choked. “Unfortunately, humans need more than a tongue bath to maintain hygiene. I would like to avoid illness.” Judging by his expression, he was baffled at the concept of such an ailment, but he quickly released me, nodding to an arched wooden door