The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 207

Chapter 207: Onyx Played With His Food & Sat On Her Damn Lap

Velkaris was on the far end of the dragon field, sprawled in his favorite spot, golden scales catching the afternoon light.

He lifted his massive head when Onyx approached, and something softened in the dragon’s posture.

Onyx tripped over his own tail, on his way. He was a baby and still looked at the world with enormous golden eyes that expected it to be kind to him.

He chirped when he saw Velkaris, and bounded toward the larger dragon with the uncoordinated enthusiasm of a puppy greeting its favorite person. Velkaris lowered his head and let Onyx headbutt his jaw, which Onyx did with enough force to rattle his own skull. He shook it off, peeped again, and climbed onto Velkaris’s foreleg.

Velkaris permitted it. The way an old lion permits a cub to gnaw on its ear. Patient. Tolerant. Vaguely amused.

The training for Onyx today was simple in theory: hunting.

Morholt had ordered a live chicken released into the dragon enclosure. Standard protocol for juvenile dragons. The instinct was supposed to be innate: see prey, chase prey, kill prey, eat prey. Basic survival. Every dragon did it.

The chicken was released.

Onyx watched it.

The chicken scratched at the dirt, pecked at a seed, and clucked with the mindless contentment of an animal that did not realize it was supposed to be dead.

Onyx tilted his head.

Then he walked over to the chicken and sat down next to it.

They regarded each other.

Nothing happened.

"Kill it," Morholt ordered.

Onyx looked at Morholt, looked at the chicken, and then nudged the chicken gently with his snout. The chicken startled, flapped three feet sideways, and settled again.

Onyx followed. Sat down again. Nudged it again.

The chicken clucked. Onyx chirped.

They were playing.

The dragon handlers stared. Morholt pinched the bridge of his nose.

"He has no hunting instincts," one of the handlers said, voice flat. "None."

Dex turned to Velkaris. "Show him."

Velkaris, who had been watching this entire display from his lounging position, lifted his head. He considered the chicken. Then his rider.

Then he huffed.

Dex knew exactly what the dragon was saying. It was the draconic equivalent of: No. That’s cruel. I eat dragon feed. You don’t see me killing my meals.

"Velkaris," Dex said.

Velkaris huffed again, louder, and turned his head away.

"My dragon is morally objecting to a hunting demonstration," Dex said aloud, to no one in particular.

"Velkaris, you’ve killed men in battle. You’ve burned ships. You incinerated a Dark Fae battalion. And you’re drawing the line at a chicken."

Serena’s hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh no," she breathed, eyes wide. "He won’t."

Elara had an identical reaction, both hands covering her mouth, staring at the chicken with an expression of mounting horror.

"Don’t you dare," Elara whispered, though it wasn’t clear who she was addressing.

Hale burst out laughing.

"Elara you ate duck last night," he said, grinning ear to ear. "How exactly do you think that ended up on your plate?"

Serena stared at him.

Elara stared at him.

"That’s different," Serena said.

"It is absolutely not different."

"It’s very different. She didn’t watch the duck die."

Velkaris huffed a third time, and this time he held Dex’s eye with an expression that, on a human face, would have been smug. As if to say: See? Even she agrees with me.

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