Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 212

Chapter 212: Light Fuck Her Was A Callback

What the actual fuck. Every charming thing she thought about that dragon? Done. She was pissed off.

"I can hear you glaring at my back. Impressive range on that," Kael called over his shoulder.

Watching everything while being completely immobilized is the kind of situation that makes sane people start yelling at their own limbs.

Guinevere Lunaris was right there.

She was frozen behind the stone rafter, her muscles stuck in a rigid, uncomfortable pose that she could not override, while he positioned himself between incoming Dark Fae. All she could do was watch his back while he fought.

"Brothers, pin the vessel down. Spread her. Let the eldest have first—"

"Nope." Kael’s blade went through its throat. "Nope to all of that."

"She will scream our names as we plant the dark seed in her—"

"She doesn’t know your names. Neither do I. Let’s keep it that way." Swing. Drop. Done.

He glanced back at her and winked. She wanted to scream. "How’s the rafter, honey? Comfortable? Good."

The wink was still burning in her retinas when the next one arrived with opinions.

"Her milk will nourish the new generals. Her breasts will—"

"You are absolutely disgusting." Swipe. Kael cut it in half. "Next."

It continued.

He showed off.

Jump roundhouse kick. Absolutely unnecessary. There was one Dark Fae. One.

"The good news is you’re safe. The bad news is you’re stuck watching me be incredible and can’t even clap," he said lightly.

Two more dropped. He spun his blade once before killing them. Also unnecessary.

She was mid-fantasy about strangling him when the chanting resumed.

"The vessel’s cervix holds the gateway to—"

"STOP. Stop. Stop talking. Stop existing." He swung. Two heads. "How do you know that word?"

He went from removing heads to checking on her with zero transition and zero shame.

"Okay, okay," he conceded. "I’m sorry I used the Draconic Register on you. I promise, next time I immobilize you it’ll be under hotter circumstances."

He stole another glance at her. She glared. He saw the glare. He grinned. She glared harder. The feedback loop was infuriating.

"If it helps, you look gorgeous when you’re furious. Just an observation."

She did not dignify that with a response. Could she have responded? Unclear. Did she? Absolutely not.

"Think of it as a front-row seat. Best view in the Keep. You’re welcome," he added.

The dragon kept running his mouth. She wondered if this was how he handled the killing, smartass commentary as a form of emotional regulation. If so, the psychology checked out.

It was entertaining. She would take that to the grave, but she could give credit where credit was due privately.

She was busy hating him when the next wave reminded her there were worse things on this wall than a cocky dragon with a wink problem.

"I will mount the vessel on the altar and pump until the prophecy—"

"You will not." Two strokes. "You will absolutely not." A third for good measure. "I cannot stress this enough."

At some point, the quips stopped. She didn’t notice when. One minute Kael was flirting between kills. The next, he was just killing. The silence was worse.

Dawn bled grey across the horizon and brought no relief with it. Just light enough to see how badly they were losing.

Kael was the only thing holding the line together. His blade cut through Dark Fae like a man who had been killing all night and stopped keeping track of the body count hours ago. He was slower than when he’d parked her here, but still efficient enough to be deeply unfair.

"HOLD THE LINE. ROTATE WOUNDED TO THE REAR. FRESH BLADES FORWARD," he commanded.

Kael’s commands grew further and further away, but she could still see him and hear him from her position.

"VESSEL. VESSEL. VESSEL."

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