Oathran was a dragon. His nature was one of primal sovereignty, an innate understanding of possession and territory that ran deeper than bone. He knew when others coveted what was his.
For centuries, he had been the object of covetous gazes, after all. For his power, his treasures, his very being. He had grown so accustomed to the weight of that envy that he could feel its shape in a glance. So used to it that he could trace the contour of desire in the flicker of a stranger's pupil.
And now, that covetous gaze had settled upon the single most precious part of his hoard. His bonded mate.
"Are you attracted to my wife?"
It was just a confirmation. He already knew the answer. He was merely calling the shadow into the light.
Arkai visibly froze. His entire powerful frame locked, the casual lord replaced by a creature caught in a predator's direct line of sight.
