Opal
1175 Words
Yuria – POV
"What do you mean, mate bond?" I asked, freeing my hand from his grip, but he held my wrist firmly. Drake's purple irises bore into me intensely.
"Yuri, I need you to check if we have a mate bond," Drake said.
"I don't sense any mate bond with you, Drake," I added.
"Mate bond doesn't work like that, wolf. Do we need to use mate bond magic to see whether we are mates?" Drake said calmly. I felt awkward; was he playing tricks on me? His gaze held seriousness, no hint of a joke. I wanted to argue and return home, but it seemed like Drake was my King now. After all, I am no longer a wolf. I reluctantly followed Drake's orders, nodding as he held my hand, leading me to the ancient Manor.
Once inside, I struggled to free my hand. Drake finally let go, and I glared at him. I despised the strength he possessed as a shifter, something I no longer had as a former wolf.
"What do you want to check? Do it fast, Drake. I need to sleep; I'm tired," I sighed. Drake looked at me, annoyed by my whining, but he said nothing.
"Wait for Opal to come; she's a witch," I looked at Drake.
"Opal," I raised my eyebrows. "Wait, I remember this name. Is she your ex-girlfriend after you were dumped by Elena?" I teased, and Drake rolled his eyes at me.
"Opal is still my girlfriend, actually. I didn't say it's over," Drake said, remembering this and sitting upright. "We had a one-night stand, and then she texted me. I did, too, mostly asking for her help to set this place up."
"Are you serious, Drake?" I looked at him, and darn it, he was serious. He hadn't broken up with her.
"Did you clarify it was casual and not serious?" I asked.
"Well, she said she wanted a relationship with me, and I was too drunk and wanting to sleep around. I didn't know she was a witch. I thought she was a human who would forget the night and move on. Her drunk request for seriousness seemed like a passing fancy," Drake explained, rubbing his temple. I chuckled at his situation; it was hilarious. Drake's love life had a flair for the dramatic.
"Wow, Drake, the last King of Dragons, is in a relationship with a Witch he didn't know until now. The irony is, does she know you called her here to find the mate bond between us?" I wiped a tear from my chuckle, and Drake frowned, clearly unhappy that I was enjoying his misery.
"Not funny, Yuri. Help me, what should I tell her?" Drake asked.
"Tell her the truth and take the heat from her glare or the curses she throws at you, or maybe even a hit with her magic," I added with a smirk, and Drake glared at me.
"Enjoy my misery, Cutie. What if it turns out you are my mate?" Drake added. My smile wiped off my face, and I glared at him.
"I would reject you," I declared. "You and I are no match. After all, you're not my type," I hissed. Drake looked amused at my outburst, and I was sure I appeared flustered at the thought of being mates with Drake. Despite his god-like handsomeness, he annoyed me, and I found him far from endearing.
"Also, you forget I am cursed, and a mate bond is impossible," I added confidently. "May I ask why you think I can be your mate?" Drake rose from the couch and sat next to me. I didn't move, but I felt like I should, sensing the warmth under his gaze, which was never the case before. I used to get annoyed with his presence, but now I felt an unfamiliar heat that I despised.
"I feel my Dragon is attracted to you, and when you almost died, my Dragon couldn't take it and put me on edge," Drake confessed, and I blinked in surprise.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked, trying to smile, but Drake's serious gaze indicated the truth, no lies.
"When did this happen?" I inquired. "It could be a false alarm."
"I think so because a Dragon king can't be mated with half-Dragon Blood; it's impossible," Drake said, putting some distance between us. Finally, I could breathe back to normal. I hated my heart pounding, which returned to normal at his remark—disappointment and relief mingled, and I struggled to understand what to make of this emotion.
We sat in a stretched silence, the tension palpable, and I felt my eyes grow droopy, casting an annoyed glare at Drake. "Where is she?" I asked in a whisper, feeling so weak.
*****
I woke up to the sound of yelling, finding myself in bed instead of on the couch. The room around me was unfamiliar, with a soft king-size bed and a blanket. My eyes landed on a picture frame of a young Drake with a small child beside him—apparently, his son. The tension between father and son was evident, even in the photo. A wave of breaking glass jolted me, and I rushed downstairs to find a woman pinning Drake down, the shattered glass from his hand scattered on the floor.
"Wow, I didn't think you'd want me to see you taking someone else before me. I thought I had such fantasies, but you two aren't acting right to give the audience an enjoyable show," I added with a bored tone, masking the hurt I felt, unwilling to admit that vulnerability.
"Who are you?" the woman hissed.
"Opal, get off me," Drake warned, distancing himself from her. I noticed a look of disgust on his face, which was unlike him. He usually drooled over hot women thrown at him; I knew him well.
"Wait, is she the one you feel attracted to?" Opal asked. Drake nodded, and I sighed at her, glaring at me with disgust. I glanced down at my clothes; they were not prim and proper, a mess in contrast to her sharp, model-like appearance.
"Well, can you check if there is a mate bond, pretty please?" I said. She looked at me as if I were weird, and Drake, on the other hand, sighed at my sarcasm, which Opal completely missed.
"We have a deal, remember Drake. Don't break it, or I will curse you," Opal said, turning to him. I raised my eyebrow in surprise and curiosity, eager to know the details of their arrangement. She performed a magical gesture, and I felt the warmth of magic surround us. As she continued, the magic stretched towards Drake. However, when Opal's magic reached me, it pushed her away. The thick mate link halted, not reaching me. Drake looked out with sadness in his eyes. Did he genuinely desire me to be his mate, or was it merely a desperate longing for a mate bond? Much like me, he seemed to be concealing his desperation.
- Writer
