The Dragon From Paris: A Sexy Dragon Romance

by JJ Jones

  She didn’t bother to offer a reply after that. Instead, she simply squeezed her eyes shut, ducked, and brought her arms up over her head. Corvin didn’t even get a chance to ask what she was doing before Abel crashed into him like an avenging god, and the ground shook as both of them tumbled across the grass.

  When Clarissa cracked an eye open and peeked from beneath one arm, Corvin was on his back, rear legs thrashing and wings beating to try to get leverage. Abel was perched on his chest and looking over him, wings spread out and neck arched so he looked almost three times his regular size. Corvin held him at bay with his forelegs, until at last he managed to get enough leverage with his wings and Abel was forced to leap aside as Corvin hoisted himself off of the ground.

  Abel skittered several feet away, wings flapping to keep his balance. He peered over his shoulder and took a few steps to the side afterwards, making sure he was firmly planted between Corvin and Clarissa.

  She sat up on her knees and scrambled away on all fours. There was nothing to hide behind or to use as shelter, but she could at least put some more distance between herself and what was

  already shaping up to be a truly massive scuffle.

  She ground to a halt when Corvin lunged for her, only to come up short when Abel caught him by the tail and wrenched him back, leaving a massive furrow in the ground until Corvin kicked his way free and clambered away, leaping into the air for just long enough to put a few yards of space between them. He kept eyeing Clarissa contemplatively, as if he was trying to puzzle out the best way to get ahold of her and use her like a living meat shield.

  (She could see the logic, if she thought about it. It was practical, even if it was a very morbid sort of practicality. He hadn’t yet dealt with her, so he may as well try to get some use out of her while he could.)

  It was only when Abel once again planted himself between Clarissa and Corvin, talons digging into the ground as he rooted himself like a tree, that Corvin decided to pay at least a moderate amount of attention to the fight.

  Even so, he made a last-ditch attempt to dart around Abel to Clarissa behind him, backing up again just in time to avoid Abel head butting him square in the throat. Despite that, Corvin

  almost seemed amused, and it was only reluctantly that he started to engage with Abel, spreading his wings and lunging, so they tangled together for a moment before kicking away from each other.

  She was making things harder for Abel. The realization hit her like a knife between the

  shoulders. As long as he needed to keep an eye on her, he couldn’t dedicate his full attention to the fight with Corvin.

  She cast about wildly, looking around so quickly she wound up turning in a circle and disorienting herself for a moment. She contemplated just bolting into the distance, to put as much distance between her and the fight as she could, until she was far enough away that Abel didn’t need to worry about her anymore until it was time to find her again afterwards.

  But as soon as she started moving, she heard a drawn-out snarl behind her, and she peered over her shoulder to see Corvin barreling towards her at a full sprint. Going with the most expedient method of stopping him, Abel simply threw himself in Corvin’s path, and then both tumbled down in a heap of scales and wings.

  So much for that idea. Clarissa would never be able to get far enough away quickly enough, and if Abel had to make sure she wasn’t underfoot, he would be able to focus on the fight at hand even less. Finally, she simply planted herself in one spot, consciously loosening every muscle as she did so, readying herself to throw herself out of the way if she had to, but otherwise trying as hard as she could not to be more of a distraction than she already was.

  Both dragons lunged for each other simultaneously, Corvin rearing onto his hind legs as he did, his front feet landing on Abel’s shoulders. For a moment, Clarissa thought Abel’s lack of forelegs might be a disadvantage, until he flexed his wings forward, the claws at the joints hooking into the meat of Corvin’s wing muscles. Corvin made a sharp, shrieking sound and tore himself away, just in time to avoid Abel’s jaws closing around his neck like a snapping turtle preparing to snap up a fish.

  Corvin bounded back a few feet and paced back and forth, trying to find a better angle to

  approach things from, and Abel moved with him, always staying in his path, always making sure Clarissa was off limits.

  Again, she looked around for some way to remove herself from the equation, as if she could have somehow missed something in the vast emptiness around them. As expected, she came up empty handed and returned her attention to the dragons in front of her, even if she would have preferred to be watching anything else just then.

  Irrational as it sounded, if Abel was holding himself back to keep her safe, then it felt like she owed it to him to watch.

  For a moment, they simply stared each other down, each trying to determine the most convenient weakness and the best angle to attack from without making themselves vulnerable at the same time. It was already guaranteed that both of them were going to come away hurt to some extent, but neither of them wanted to make things any worse than they needed to be.

  Without warning, Corvin launched himself into the air and began rising. Abel braced himself for impact, watching him warily, only to realize belatedly that the sudden takeoff wasn’t to attack him, but with another target in mind entirely, and Abel spread his wings and leapt into the air.

  As Corvin began rapidly descending again, his shadow was right over Clarissa, dead center, and while she knew that if she got as small as she could his landing wouldn’t touch her, it would also mean that Abel would be helpless to touch Corvin without hurting Clarissa as well.

  Clarissa ducked and covered her head, peeking out in time to see Abel slam into Corvin’s side before he could land and knocking him out of the air. They tumbled across the ground for a

  moment, and when they came to a halt, it was Corvin pinning Abel to the grass.

  Corvin’s mouth opened, ready to spit fire, only to gag out a breath as Abel kicked him in the stomach with both legs, sending him tumbling aside like a stack of logs. As Corvin stumbled back, Abel leapt back to his feet and bounded backwards several feet before he gave himself a shake and stretched his wings out.

  After that, it seemed like they were at a stalemate, at least until they all heard a very timely

  interruption, and Clarissa felt a surge of renewed excitement as she realized what she was

  hearing, as the noise gradually got closer and louder.

  Abel and Corvin frozen, turning to look into the distance. There was a sound like bells, muffled slightly as it approached over the grass, and Abel’s eyes brightened in something like triumph as he realized what that meant.

  Gleaming like diamonds in the sunlight, Marjorie charged over the grass, head low and legs stretched out into a full gallop. She darted right between both dragons once she was close enough, and though Corvin tried to snap at her, he came nowhere close to actually hitting her, his jaws closing around thin air.

  Marjorie closed the last few yards of space between herself and Clarissa with a last bound, landing on the grass with a thump and then turning in a half circle so Clarissa was behind her, facing Corvin and Abel. She snorted and pawed at the grass with one hoof and lowered her head again, brandishing her horn, ready to take on anything that got too close.

  Content in the knowledge that he didn’t need to actively keep an eye on Clarissa anymore, Abel stretched up to his full height and his mouth gaped open as he bellowed out a roar that seemed to vibrate the very air around them, until Corvin began to recoil slightly.

  He got ahold of himself quickly, though, straightening back up and surging forwards with his head lowered. Abel leapt straight upwards and twisted to the side before Corvin’s horns could impale him, landing on Corvin’s side and surging forwards. His horns slammed into Corvin’s right shoulder with a crunch that Clarissa could hear even from as far away as she was standing, and she couldn’t help but to crin
ge.

  Corvin teetered two steps to the side and toppled over sideways, to instead scramble away as Abel loomed over him. When he hefted himself back up to his feet, he was standing on only three legs, one front leg hanging limply at his side, the toes dragging as his shoulder joint refused to cooperate with him.

  Despite that, he didn’t seem to be ready to throw in the towel.

  His jaws parted, and Clarissa could see a glint like sparks, and a moment later fire spewed from his mouth like a geyser. Abel began to backpedal, ducking his head and arching his wings

  forward to shield his face. With each step he took backwards, Corvin hobbled forwards a step, until he was bearing down on Abel, still spitting fire.

  It seemed to take an eternity before Corvin’s stream of fire ran out and the geyser of fire came to a halt. Corvin stumbled back a step, chest heaving.

  It took a long moment before Abel lowered his wings, and Clarissa waited with bated breath. She had to assume that dragons weren’t actually fireproof, if they were that willing to use fire against each other, so she wasn’t sure what she was going to see once Abel lowered his wings.

  Slowly, he lowered them and lifted his head, and Corvin seemed to wilt slightly once he realized that Abel was still perfectly fine. All that had been bared to Corvin’s attack was the armor along the back of Abel’s neck and spine, and while it was slightly singed, it had done its job and protected him.

  Abel flapped his wings once in a manner similar to how one might flick their wrist dismissively, and he took a step forward, until his nose was nearly pressed up against Corvin’s.

  “This can end,” he stated simply, rising to his full height so he was looking down at Corvin, his wings halfway spread on either side of him. “This can stop right now. I will not let you return to Paris, but I will let you leave. You will go far away where you won’t be anyone else’s

  headache, but you will live. This can stop; you can make that happen. You just have to back down.”

  For a moment, it looked as if Corvin was wavering. It looked like he might truly back down and leave. But then he steeled himself and wrenched himself back a step, away from Abel. When he straightened up, he didn’t look nearly as imposing as he had at the beginning.

  “I will not sacrifice everything I’ve done to let you banish me to some backwoods corner of the world,” he growled, and he spread his legs to brace himself. “I would rather die than let you turn me into an exile to hide and pretend to be grateful.”

  Abel sagged slightly, but only for a second. One wing reached forwards, quick as lightning, and he hooked the claw at the main joint around the middle of Corvin’s lower jaw, piercing right through it and pulling his mouth open before he had a chance to even step back. Abel shoved his head forward, so his nose wound up inside Corvin’s mouth, and as Abel opened his mouth, there was a wet pop as Corvin’s lower jaw dislocated.

  Clarissa realized what Abel was going to do just a moment before he actually did it, and her eyes got very wide as the rest of her got very pale.

  Marjorie ducked her head to look away first, and Clarissa stared just long enough to see fire begin to spew from Abel’s mouth and directly down Corvin’s throat, before she ducked her head against Marjorie’s neck, refusing to watch the rest of it.

  While it was likely only a minute at most, it seemed like hours passed before she heard Abel say, “It’s done. You can look up now.”

  Clarissa peeked up carefully, and once she realized that Abel was standing between her and

  Marjorie, and Corvin’s corpse so she couldn’t see it clearly, she lifted her head and straightened up.

  There was a smell like cooked meat drifting on the breeze, and Clarissa tried very hard to ignore it and shove it as far out of her thoughts as she could. Because she knew exactly what that smell was, and it was not something she needed to dwell on just then. As it was, she was positive she was going to be having nightmares that night, and likely for many nights to come.

  “Are you alright?” Abel asked, and Clarissa realized she had just been staring blankly into the middle distance for several seconds. Marjorie snorted incredulously and gave her head a shake, her mane flying around her neck before settling once again. That, of all things, gave Clarissa a bit of strength and she tittered quietly.

  “Sort of?” she replied, though it came out sounding more like a question than a statement. “Or…not really, I guess,” she decided, once she realized how weak that first response sounded. “I think I’d like to go back to the hotel now.”

  Abel nodded his head slowly and lowered himself to the ground, until his chest was flat against the grass. Finally, Clarissa pried herself away from Marjorie’s side to climb onto Abel’s back. To her surprise, Marjorie transformed back to her human disguise and climbed on behind her, but after a moment of thought, Clarissa supposed that made sense. Marjorie had already run the whole way there from the city, and it wasn’t as fast as flying. Besides, she was probably tired.

  It didn’t occur to her that it was also for her own benefit until Marjorie’s arms wrapped around her middle, holding her firmly in place. As far as they were concerned, evidently, she might very well tumble off of Abel’s back.

  When she looked down and realized how much her hands were shaking, she had to concede that it was probably a strong possibility. Internally, at least. She didn’t bother saying it out loud.

  The flight back to the city after that seemed to pass in a strange haze, lasting both for an eternity and for no time at all. She scarcely noticed when Abel’s feet touched the ground again, and when it was time to get off, Marjorie had to lead her off by the hand.

  In a dim and distant way, she thought maybe Abel would simply pick her up once he transformed into his human disguise again, but that wasn’t the case. He bid Marjorie farewell for the time

  being, slipped an arm around Clarissa’s middle to guide her, and led her back to the hotel. The walk seemed to pass in a blur of lights and sounds.

  She could vaguely recall Abel asking which hotel room she was in once they were standing in the lobby, and she supposed she must have told him, as they made it to her door without trouble. She fumbled her keycard at first, until Abel took it from her and unlocked her door. She stepped into the room, and Abel kissed her cheek and lingered in the doorway for a moment before he departed, sliding the keycard back into her hand and closing the door with a click.

  Clarissa made it to the bed before her legs finally decided they’d had enough and buckled, and she sat down on the edge of the bed abruptly. She sat there for what could have been just a few minutes or what could have been hours. She couldn’t tell. She had stopped paying attention to how much time had passed.

  When she finally managed to get her brain to function long enough to look at the clock, she had to stare at it, blinking slowly several times in a row. It felt as if it should have been the middle of the night. She was exhausted, and so much had happened. But as she stared at the clock, the numbers refused to rearrange completely, and instead only progressed by one minute, as was the standard. It felt like it should have been the middle of the night, but it was barely even late afternoon. So much had happened, and it had only been a few hours.

  That, of all things, finally jogged her back into the present. She groaned and tumbled back onto the bed, sprawling out on her back. Her arms lay splayed at her sides for a few seconds before she lifted her hands to scrub at her face, as if she could wipe away the events of the day. They all seemed to clump together, racing into each other like they were all too eager to be remembered, so they smeared into an indistinct blur. All she really succeeded in wiping away was some of the grit and grime plastered to her skin with sweat.

  With a slow sigh, she sat up on her elbows before she debated just rolling over and going to sleep right then and there.

  With another, slightly less emphatic sigh she decided that was a bad idea. She was filthy, she was still wearing her day clothes, and it was only the middle of the day. Nothing good
would come of sleeping in her grunge, and if she fell asleep in the middle of the afternoon all she was going to manage was to screw up her sleep schedule and make herself miserable for tomorrow.

  (Granted, the odds seemed high that she would already be miserable tomorrow, and a traitorous part of her mind told her to just embrace it and go to bed. The more grounded part of her mind reminded her that she didn’t need to make things any worse for herself.)

  With a groan, she sat up and got to her feet, and she rummaged in her suitcase for a set of

  pajamas, because there was no way in Hell she was putting on real clothes or even leaving the hotel room for the rest of the day.

  As she dug through her suitcase, she remembered her laptop, her phone, and her recorder, but she was too emotionally wrung out to feel anything beyond vague disappointment. She supposed she could just tell her bosses that she got mugged and her supplies were stolen. They would be

  disappointed, but she figured they would understand.