How Not To Fall For A Dragon (Lexi and Blake) novel Chapter 139

:05 pm

How Not To Fall For A Dragon

Chapter 139 139- Never Forget Dragons Hate Third Wheels

LEXI

-31

I decide to stay in the pyjamas I’m already wearing. At this point, there’s no way I’m putting actual clothes on. The effort alone sounds unbearable, and it’s not like a nicer outfit is going to magically make me less concussed or less covered in dried blood. Function over fashion. Very loosely speaking. Blake, however, does not share that philosophy. Before I can argue, he’s already at the closet, pulling out a coat and guiding my arms into it with quiet efficiency. His hands are careful, deliberate, like he’s half-expecting me to fall over mid-process. Then come the shoes. Proper shoes. He crouches down to fix them properly, adjusting the laces, making sure they’re actually secure. I make a face down at him.

“Blake… I don’t want to wear shoes,” I mumble, because apparently that’s the hill my brain has chosen to die on. It’s stilly, but they’re bothering me.

“You’re wearing the shoes,” he replies without even looking up. Putting on shoes feels like a crime. Standing feels like a crime. Existing, in general, feels mildly illegal right now. But… he’s right. Again. I do need to get checked out. And once that’s done, I can come back and collapse into bed properly. No more half-sleeping, half-listening for danger. No more forcing myself to stay alert. I should probably be scared. Earlier, I was. Now? I’m just… tired. And annoyed. Annoyed that I have to move. Annoyed that my head feels like it’s being split open from the inside. Annoyed that I have to leave the one place that currently feels safe and comfortable. So yeah. Irritated. But not scared. Because Blake is here.

“Ready?” he asks, standing again and looking me over like he’s checking for anything he might have missed. He reaches up to straighten the collar of the coat, smoothing it down like it matters. I sigh.

“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter. He steps closer immediately, not giving me the chance to wobble away or reconsider, and pulls me gently into his side, one arm

firm around my shoulders.

“Stay close,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. I nod, leaning into him more than I usually would, and the door swings open. The bedroom door this time. I blink at what’s on the other side. A dark, empty hallway stretches out in front of us, and at the end of it… Stairs. So many stairs. An

unreasonable number of stairs. I stare at them for a full second, my brain trying, and failing, to process how I’m supposed to deal with that. Then I groan.

“Oh, absolutely not.” I complain. Blake glances at me, takes one look at my expression, and doesn’t even hesitate. His arm tightens around me for a fraction of a second before he shifts his grip, bending slightly and sliding his other arm under my knees. The world tilts and suddenly I’m off the ground.

“Hey, wait. You don’t have to-” I start automatically, startled as he lifts me into a princess carry like I weigh nothing. He shakes his head before I can even

protest properly.

“Yes, I do,” he insists.

“I’m not risking you tripping down those stairs and making your head worse.” he says bluntly. Lopen my mouth to argue… then close it again. Because honestly? Fair. Also… I really, really don’t want to walk down those stairs. A small, tired laugh escapes me despite everything. If I were feeling better, I’d

absolutely insist on walking myself. Make a point of it. Be stubborn. But right now? Everything hurts. My head is pounding. And being carried by a very strong, very solid, very reliable dragon who clearly has no issue taking control of the situation when it matters? Yeah. I’m not fighting that I sigh softly and let myself relax into him, settling against his chest. One arm loops around his neck, more out of instinct than necessity. I know he won’t drop me. There’s no chance of that. But holding on makes me feel a little more grounded. A little more in control of something. He adjusts his grip slightly, making sure I’m secure before he starts down the stairs. Each step is careful, steady, controlled. He doesn’t rush, even though I can feel the urgency in him, the tension coiled under the surface, the awareness that we’re not completely safe yet.

“We’re going straight to the infirmary,” he says as we descend, his voice low but certain.

“We’ll get your head checked, and then I’ll take you somewhere safe so you can rest.” He promises. There’s no hesitation in it. No doubt Just a plan I mod against his chest, my cheek pressing lightly into the fabric of his shirt. I can hear his heartbeat, fast, but steady. Strong.

“Okay,” I murmur. He gives a little satisfied humm and I relax into him even more. Trusting him comes… a little too easily. Especially after everything Which I suppose is what I was worried about, but after everything he just said, I really don’t feel so worried about that anymore. Besides, right now, I don’t

1/3

16:05 pm

Chapter 139 139- Never Forget Dragons Hate Third Wheels

have the energy to question it. To analyse it. To second-guess whether I should. Right now… I just want to be safe. And with him, I am.

The moment we step out into the night air, the temperature seems to drop. Or maybe that’s just me. Either way, the open space of the courtyard feels wrong, too exposed, too quiet, and that uneasy feeling crawls up my spine before I even see them. Then the shadows start to move. At first, it’s just one or two figures peeling away from the darkness. Then more. And more. Shapes stepping out from behind pillars, from the edges of buildings, from places i hadn’t even realised someone could be hiding. They don’t rush us. They don’t shout. They just… close in. Slow. Deliberate. Like they already know we have nowhere to go. My grip tightens slightly against Blake without me meaning to. He doesn’t stop walking. The figures keep approaching until they form a loose circle around us, cutting off every direction. Their faces are half-hidden in the dim light, but I can see enough, hard expressions, cold eyes, weapons and magic flickering faintly in their hands. These aren’t just random attackers. They’re organised. They’re ready.

“Move,” Blake says, his voice low and dark, carrying for more weight than the single word should. For a second, it works. A few of them hesitate. One or two even take an unconscious step back, their confidence faltering under the sheer force of him. Blake starts forward again, like he fully expects them to obey. Then, Professor Farrow steps into view. And everything changes. He moves into the centre of the group like he belongs there, like he’s always been in control of the situation. The hunched, absent-minded old man from class is gone. In his place is something sharper. Colder. His posture straightens unnaturally, and that constant, faintly confused expression has been replaced with something calculating. Something hungry. A sickly pink glow blooms around his hands, the magic pooling and twisting like it’s alive, casting strange, shifting shadows across his face. It’s not clean magic. It doesn’t feel stable or controlled like Layla’s or the Academy’s. It feels… wrong. Sticky. Like it clings to the air. What the hell is that magic?

“Don’t move,” he says, his voice no longer wavering or dull, but clear. Commanding.

“We gre taking her.” The way he says it, so certain, so matter-of-fact, makes my stomach drop. Blake growls softly under his breath, the sound low and dangerous, vibrating through me where I’m pressed against him.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify