Heart Of The Dragon
He doesn't laugh."
"He never yells."
"When Grayley accidentally stabbed Darius's thigh with a six-pronged razor, our leader didn't even blink."
"I'd say all he needs is a few good hours of bed sport, but I'm not even sure he knows what his cock is for."
The latter was met with a round of rumbling male chuckles.
Darius en Kragin stepped inside the spacious dining hall, his gaze methodically cataloging his surroundings. The ebony floors gleamed clean and black, the perfect contrast for the dragon-carved ivory walls. Along the windows, gauzy drapes whisped delicately. Crystal ceilings towered above, reflecting the tranquillity of seawater that enclosed their great city.
He moved toward the long, rectangular dining table. The tantalizing aroma of sweetmeats and fruit should have wafted to his nostrils, but over the years his sense of smell, taste and color had deteriorated.
He smelled only ash, tasted nothing more than air, and saw only black-and-white. He'd willed those senses away. Better, easier to exist in a void. Only sometimes did he wish otherwise.
One warrior caught sight of him and quickly alerted the others. Silence clamped tight fingers around t ... read full excerpt from: Heart of the Dragon ebook
