Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
At last the intruder came into focus as he came closer—it was Saint, my roommate—and I had never seen him looking like he was now.
Normally Saint was pretty quiet, for a guy with a cursed Drake living inside him. He was tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome with high cheekbones and penetrating black eyes—but also completely off limits. Why, you may ask? Well, because he came from pretty much the most homophobic society in all the Realms. The Drakes absolutely hated anyone in the LGBTQ community with a passion, which made the fact that Juan and his friends liked tormenting me not too surprising.
Saint could be hard to read. He’d never been cruel or demeaning to me, despite the fact that I was out and proud. He also didn’t display the typical straight guy’s aversion or distain for me as a gay guy. Once or twice I’d even had the feeling that he liked me despite his upbringing. Or maybe that his Drake liked me, which honestly, is pretty scary. Having a cursed Drake choose you as his special person is kind of like having a serial killer get a crush on you.
I knew in Saint’s culture, the Drake chose the person and the human he was tied to went along for the ride. But did the Drake in question ever choose another male? I mean, was that even possible?
I had no idea but the way Saint looked right now, I thought I might find out—the hard way.
His normally obsidian black eyes were pools of melted flame. I’m being serious here—you always read in books about someone having “flaming eyes” but in this case it was the literal truth. Saint’s eye sockets were filled with two burning infernos and what looked like lava was rolling down his cheeks like some kind of horrible tears.
I had seen a partial change before—hell, Juan Gonzalez had just done one, letting just the snout and head of his Drake come out so that he could breathe fire at me. But I had never seen anything like the madness and torment I saw staring out of my tall, dark roommate’s eyes as he approached us.
Then a pair of wings sprouted from his shoulder blades. Huge wings, black as night with crimson inner linings—they tore through his uniform shirt and arched overhead, brushing the ceiling twenty-five feet above. They shadowed the entire gymnasium and everywhere their shadow touched, a feeling of doom descended.
This must be what it feels like when you’re going to die and you know it but you can’t do anything about it, I thought, staring up at him. The lava tears rolling down his cheeks were dropping onto his white uniform shirt and burning right through, leaving black, hissing holes wherever they fell. His big hands were clenched into fists and his body was trembling. With rage? Somehow I didn’t think so.
He’s trembling because he’s trying to hold it back—hold it in—and he’s losing control, I thought and knew I must be right. Saint’s Drake was coming out and he was inches from losing it.
He turned those flaming eyes on Juan and the Drakes holding me and roared again, “MINE!”
The possessive pronoun seemed to refer to me and I had the feeling he was telling the Drakes to let me go. I had the further feeling that they wanted to let me go and get the hell out of there, but everyone seemed to be frozen in place by the horrible feeling of dread the cursed Drake exuded.
For myself, I was frozen too. Let’s be honest—it was like being claimed by the Devil himself, with those burning eyes bleeding lava and the immense, sail-like wings casting the entire room into shadow and dread. Emma had told me that when she’d felt Saint’s Drake, it reminded her of the Balrog from the Lord of the Rings—a creature of flame and rage and roiling darkness that shouldn’t be messed with under any circumstances.
Someone was going to die here today if something didn’t happen soon.
And then, something did happen—Coach Vasquez came rushing out of her office, her eyes wide as she screamed at Saint.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing? By the first egg, how dare you shift forms in my gymnasium? Put your Drake away right now, Mister, or I’ll have you suspended. You—”
Her voice died in her throat as Saint turned those flaming eyes on her.
“Dios,” she whispered, taking a step back and bumping into Juan in the process. “The Blood-Drake—he’s coming out!”
If he comes out, someone is going to die and the chance that it might be you is not inconsiderable, whispered a little voice in my head. Saint’s Drake might want to protect you, but it’s just too big. If it goes on a rampage, there’s going to be carnage everywhere—everyone is either going to be ground into hamburger under its claws or knocked twenty feet into a stone wall by its wings or cooked by its fire. Somebody has to stop it and it looks like you’re elected, Avery.