Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 93

Chapter 93: Dragon Ballroom Bingo: Testosterone Blackout

As soon as Maddox released Hadrian’s collar, his gold eyes moved to Guinevere.

He leaned forward, chest heaving. The kind of breathing that belongs to a man who has sprinted across a ballroom.

Unbeknownst to her, he had, in fact, just sprinted across a ballroom.

TESTOSTERONE INCIDENT #1: Use Your Words, Commander

His jaw was locked. His pupils were blown wide enough that the gold around them looked thin, almost gone, eaten alive by something darker. His hand flexed at his side.

Guinevere had never seen him look like this. Confused. Furious. Irritated.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was quiet, meant for only him to hear.

Zero strategy behind it. The question of a woman who saw a man in visible distress and responded the way she responded to everything: with kindness she couldn’t turn off even when it would have been smarter to.

He seemed to get more angry by the question. She wasn’t sure.

"Commander," she added in case that was it.

For a split second, that made it worse. Then he blinked. The processing behind it was loud. He shook his head once. Twice. His chest was still heaving. His eyes were still on her. His mouth opened a fraction like a word had formed and then died behind his teeth.

"We’ll get out of your way, Maddox. I’m sure you’re busy flirting with your house lords in here." Blair’s voice was bright and breezy.

Blair’s hand closed around Guinevere’s arm, and pulled her along. Guinevere accidentally brushed against Maddox, which she realized probably didn’t help his irritation.

"Apologies."

He didn’t move or acknowledge it. She didn’t wait for one.

She let herself be led, ignoring all of her instincts because his survival outweighed everything else.

TESTOSTERONE INCIDENT #2: Confidence, Voss. Look Into It

"Protective older brother. He does that when boys talk to me." Blair squeezed Guinevere’s arm. "Let’s find Ryker. I need a drink. You need two."

They made it eight steps.

"Lunaris."

A broad-shouldered rider with dark hair and a jawline that had its own reputation stepped directly into their path.

"Commander Voss. Fifth House Stormridge. I watched your run. I have never seen anything like it. Fly with me tomorrow. I’ll have you pressed against me so tight that dress won’t hide a thing when we bank hard."

That introduction had seen a mirror. Possibly multiple mirrors.

She looked at Blair who also had an equally shocked expression on her face because this man was one of the most respected men in Velkaris.

When she looked back at him, his eyes had left her face entirely and were conducting a full inspection of everything south of it. Her mouth fell open.

"Are you finished? Or should I spin."

Something between a laugh and a wheeze left Blair. Voss looked at her. She waved him off. She was fine. She was not fine.

A second voice arrived from her left.

"Ignore him. He peaked at seventeen and has been banking off the reputation ever since."

Another rider. Taller. Blonde. Built like he’d been assembled from a list of physical requirements and then given too much confidence.

The insult landed with the ease of two men who had clearly done this before, possibly to the same woman, possibly at the same event.

His hand slid around her waist and locked on, fingers splaying possessively over the curve of her hip in the clinging crimson gown. Guinevere stared down at it, then looked up at his face. Blair looked down at the hand equally floored.

"Lord Caelum Daine. I’m better looking, I fly faster, and I won’t bore you with geography." He leaned forward. "Dinner. Tomorrow. Private terrace. I already told the kitchen."

"You already told the kitchen," Voss repeated. "Before she said yes."

"Confidence, Voss. Look into it."

Voss looked into it. He did not like what he found. His grip on his glass shifted from "drinking" to "throwing" in under a second.

Guinevere blinked at both of them. Twice. She arrived at one logical conclusion: everything she had been told about dragons being the superior species was propaganda.

She peeled his hand off her hip the way one peels a price tag off a gift. Quietly. So no one sees the number. Then she took a step back.

Behind them, a glass hit stone hard enough to explode.

The sound made them both flinch. Guinevere turned towards it. Blair turned her away from it. "Nope."

She steered Guinevere between the two men with the precision of a woman navigating a minefield.

"She’s flattered, my lords, but unfortunately she’s busy."

TESTOSTERONE INCIDENT #3: A Dragon Lord’s Baptism

Lord Daine physically moved her towards a pillar in a blur.

It was so quick, Guinevere screamed. Her champagne, startled by the same event, evacuated the glass and relocated to Lord Daine’s face.

The entire glass. Not a splash. A relocation of liquid assets.

The Skyrunner Lethal Simulation Record Holder had screamed for the second time tonight. She was aware.

Everyone around them froze. The dancing stopped and all conversations died.

Lord Daine didn’t react. Champagne on his face. Smile intact. The man was waterproof.

Guinevere shot a ’whoops’ look to Blair, only to see Blair was already memorizing every detail for future retelling.

When Guinevere turned back to the man in front of her, she realized he hadn’t stopped staring or moved.

She took a step back, her spine going against a pillar.

Fight-or-flight chose fight and her knee met his groin.

TESTOSTERONE INCIDENT #4: Wolf Reflexes, Dragon Denial

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify