"No," he repeats, and there's a warning note in there.
All right, maybe he does know what he's saying. I put a bright 'who me?' smile on my face. This is just another captor. Instead of the fat mayor, I get a dragon. All right. I'll just have to deal with this. "All righty then, we'll play the 'no' game."
He tilts his head, trying to decipher what I'm saying, and then takes a step forward.
"No," I say, putting a hand up to stop him.
He stops where he's at and crouches low, the avid, hungry look in his eyes locked on me.
Erm. He's really, really naked. I shift my hand a little lower, letting it block his anatomy from my sight. When he sits like that, well, it's easy to see he's excited. More than a little excited. Does the man have a constant hard-on around me? Jeez. "So, hey, do you speak English?"
His brows go down, and he concentrates. "Sohay … du … ewww … spek … Ayne-glehs." His mouth moves over the words slowly, with great exaggeration. I notice again that he's got a pair of big fangs, like a vampire. Or you know, like his dragon form.
Well, isn't that comforting. "I'm guessing that's a no."
"No," he repeats.
"Right. No. Thumbs up." I make the gesture. "We've got that part down. So I guess if you don't speak English, I can't ask you if you're going to kill me and eat me before or after you rape me."
"Rrrrape," he thrums, testing the word.
Aw, crap. Did he have to pick up on that word? "No rape," I tell him. "No. Rape bad."
His eyes narrow, and I realize with an anxious stab that he doesn't understand me at all. He's guessed 'no' at this point, but 'rape' could be 'pickle' for all he knows. And the more words I spit at him, the more agitated he's getting. He gets to his feet again, moving a bit closer in a slow, steady motion, watchful gaze on me. I know if I try to bolt again, he'll catch me.
I'm stuck here.
Okay. If that's what I've been dealt, then I'll handle it. He's not eating me, so that's a plus. And he freed me from the chains, which is another plus. Maybe he doesn't want to hurt me, after all. I glance over at the dead goat. It's not a reassuring sight. And when I drop my hand, I see his giant erection again, reminding me that just because the dragon hasn't eaten me doesn't mean that he's safe.
All right then. Time to make a friend.
I think about how I'm going to approach this. I don't want to startle him, that's for sure. And I don't want him to think I'm too interested. I sneak a peek over at his naked body, just in case I'm imagining things. Maybe it's a nervous boner. Except no, his erection hasn't gone down in the slightest. The thick, heavy crown of his cock is beaded with pre-cum.
Definitely not a nervous boner.
He makes a low rumble in his throat, wild and animalistic. Startled, I meet his gaze and realize he's caught me checking out his junk. And he likes it. The look in his eyes has gone predatory, and they've flicked back to black again, which worries me. It worries me even more when he begins to prowl slowly toward me.
Think fast, Claudia, or you're going to end up flat on your back for that dragon-man. Mind racing, I tap my breastbone quickly. "I'm Claudia."
He stops. Thank god. His brow furrows as he tries to process my words. He gets to his feet, stretching out and standing tall. He takes a step toward me and gestures at his mouth, as if indicating he wants me to speak again.
All right, communicating is more important than sex. That works. I tap my chest again and enunciate slowly. "Clawwww-deeee-uhhh."
Gaze fixed on my lips, he repeats it. Or tries to. "Clawwwww-duh."
"Claw-dee-uh."
His mouth purses. "Clau-dah."
Close enough. I smile and nod, gesturing at myself. "Claudia." Then I gesture at him.
He's not interested in talking about himself though. His black gaze moves over my naked limbs, and the low rumble starts in his throat again. "Clau-dah," he says, and it's practically a purr. I could swear his cock twitches as he says my name, too.
Yiiiikes.
I smile brightly at him again. "Claudia." Then I point at him all over again and again a second time, hoping it gets the message across.
The dragon-man's eyes flick back to the deep gold, which makes me sigh with relief. I think that means he's happy. He puts a large, claw-tipped hand to his chest and taps it. "Kael." The syllable is quick and hard, almost like a guttural version of 'Kyle.' I repeat it back to him.