Before he could respond a sharp knock echoed from the outer chamber followed by a male voice.

Noticing his distraction she pushed herself away from him with all her might. She immediately stumbled back through the water putting distance between them.

"Your Majesty! The council meeting begins in Ten minutes"

He released a frustrated growl that sounded more dragon than human.

"Luck seems to be on your side little mouse, but make no mistake, this is far from over."

He emerged from the pool with grace, completely unbothered about his nakedness or his evident arousal.

"There's a dressing chamber through that door." He said, wrapping a towel around his waist. "Get changed and wait in my chambers till I return."

"I need to return to my duties.."

"Your duty is to me now." His voice cut through her protest. "You are my personal attendant, you will wait in my chambers and you will not speak a word of today's occurrence to anyone, understood?"

It wasn't a question, it was a command.

"And Elara, don't even think about running, I can find you anywhere in this palace. Your scent...." He inhaled deeply, his pupils dilating "it's burned into my memory."

"Yes, Your Majesty." She whispered with defeat. But deep down, beneath her fear and confusion, a spark of defiance flickered to life. She silently plotted her escape.

Elara's gaze lingered on him as he disappeared through the doorway, her ears straining for any sound of his return.

The moment she was certain he was gone she quickly stripped out of her soaked dress, her fingers fumbling with the clinging fabric. She ventured into the dressing chamber, shocked at the sheer amount of fine silks and linen, she reached for one but hesitated, staring at it like it was poisoned.

No, absolutely not. Wearing his clothes, or worse, clothes meant for the women he bedded was definitely not a choice. It felt like crossing an invisible line.

She gathered her wet dress and walked back to the main chamber, draping it over the ornate chair nearest to the fireplace. The flames had died down, but hopefully there was still enough heat to dry it before he returned.

Her eyes darted to the door every few seconds, her heart jumping at every distant sound in the corridor.

How long does a council meeting even last? Thirty minutes? An hour?

She caught sight of her reflection in the polished surface of a decorative shield mounted on the wall. Wild silver hair and pale flushed skin standing in nothing but her undergarments in the Dragon king's private dwelling. I'm insane

She tried to retie her hair but the knot just wouldn't hold properly partly due to how badly her hands were trembling.

"Damn it." She hissed beneath her breath finally managing a messy bun.

Deciding she could no longer wait she grabbed her dress from the fireplace. It was now partially dry, still damp in some places but it would have to do.

She couldn't stay a second longer, not with his scent still clinging to her skin, not with the memory of his hands burning into her flesh.

She frantically pulled the dress over her head, her hands fumbling with the lace.

The dress clung uncomfortably to her undergarments, but she barely noticed.

The door. Just get to the door.

She walked to the door, her hands trembling as it closed around the knob hoping it wasn't locked. She half expected it to be locked and half expected dragon fire to consume her for her disobedience.

The handle smoothly opened.

He didn't lock it.

She stared in disbelief. The arrogant bastard hadn't even bothered to lock the door. He'd simply assumed that his command alone would keep her caged like a docile pet. He'd greatly underestimated her.

The hallway was exactly as she remembered, lined up with draconian guards, her heart hammered so violently she was certain they could hear it.

She composed herself, erasing all emotion from her face and stepped out, waiting for something, anything.

Invisible. Be absolutely invisible.

The nearest guard's dark eyes flicked towards her. Her breath caught but she refused to stop as she kept her gaze lowered and movements unhurried.

The guard's attention slipped away dismissing her as beneath notice.

They have no idea he ordered me to stay.

She passed the guards one by one keeping her breath study. She turned a corner, then another. The Opulent tapestries and polished marble gradually gave way to simpler stone.

A few more turns, down four flights of stairs and finally, finally, she heard the familiar sounds of the lower quarters. Clattering dishes, raised voices and the chaos of servants preparing for the midday meal.

She slipped into the communal washing area, her legs nearly giving out from relief.

She pressed her back against the stone wall and tried to calm her breathing.

"Elara? Is that you?"

Her eyes snapped open to find Serena staring at her.

"Good heavens, you look like you've seen death itself." she whispered, rushing to her.

"What in the world happened? Did he...Did the king...."

"Nothing happened Serena." She said quickly, her voice flat. "I cleaned his chambers, and I left, that's all."

Serena's freckled face creased with suspicion. "You're such a terrible liar and you know it." "Your dress is wet, your hair's a mess and you're shaking."

"I'm fine," she said, pushing past Serena towards the servants' dormitory. "I just need to change and get back to work,"

"Back to work? Elara you've been reassigned to the king's.."

"No." the word came out sharper than she intended. "I'm going back to the kitchens, to my old duties. I'll speak to Mistress Calloway, tell her I'm unsuitable. I'm not going back to those chambers.

Serena grabbed her arm, "You can't just refuse a royal assignment, that's not how it's done."

"Then I'll make myself so incompetent she'll have to reassign me."

Elara's eyes flashed with determination. "I'll burn his breakfast, shrink his clothes, break his things, I'll do whatever it takes."

"Are you insane? He'll have you executed."

"Better dead than..." Elara stopped herself.

"I just...I can't go back there Serena, I can't....I refuse to."

Serena stared at her stubborn friend for a long moment and sighed. "Fine, but you're playing a dangerous game. Dragons don't like being denied what they want. And from what I hear, that one always gets what he wants.

Elara remained silent as she grabbed a clean uniform from her trunk and began undressing.

Over the next few hours she immersed herself into the most menial tasks she could find. She scrubbed pots till her hands were raw and she hauled buckets of water.

She volunteered for jobs everyone else avoided. Anything at all to stay busy and anything that had nothing to do with dragons.

By late afternoon she was covered in grime, sweat and fish guts, exactly as she wanted. This way no one would look at her twice. She was finally invisible again and invisible meant safe in her world.

But as she worked she couldn't shake off the feeling of eyes on her back.

She recalled his last words once again as a shiver ran through her spine,

"I can find you anywhere in this palace, your scent is now etched into my memory."

She scrubbed harder in an attempt to completely erase the memory of his touch, the heat of his body and the confusing ache it awakened in her.

When the dinner bell rang, she sat at the farthest table, making herself appear even smaller.

For a few precious hours, Elara let herself believe she'd escaped him. She was oblivious to Mistress Calloway's narrowed gaze from across the hall.

She failed to see the draconian messenger who arrived at the entrance and little did she know that the dragon king's rage had set the very air ablaze.

Draeven's POV

___________________________

Draeven stormed through the corridor towards his chambers, each footstep echoing loudly against the marble.

Council members scattered from his path like frightened mice, very smart of them. The air around him radiated heat as smoke curled from his nostrils with each controlled breath he took.

Three hours. Three long torturous god-damned hours of listening to Lord Ronan drone on about trade disputes and Lord Theron argue about military positions and all he could think about was her.

The way she'd felt pressed against him in the water, soft and trembling, perfect.

The way her innocent violet eyes had gone impossibly large with shock and fascination when she'd glimpsed his cock.

The way her tiny hands had set him on fire from the inside out when she'd touched him.

He'd been half hard through the entire meeting as his mind replayed the moment her palm made contact with his chest. That jolt of electricity, raw and primal shooting straight through him like lightning.

And she'd felt absolutely nothing.

Well, not nothing exactly. He'd seen the way her breath had caught slightly and the way her pupils had dilated. But she hadn't felt that soul deep recognition, that instantaneous realization that she was his.

Something was definitely blocking it.

And he blamed it on that damned necklace she always had on. He sensed ancient magic when he had her in his arms.

As he approached the door, he couldn't sense her presence. His hands clenched into fists as he stood in front of his chambers, his claws extending unexpectedly. Blood welled from his palms where they pierced skin, dripping onto the floor and sizzling on contact.

The guards attention immediately snapped to him, their eyes widening at his barely controlled rage.

"The servant," Draeven said, his voice a low growl making the guards flinch.

"The silver haired woman, when did she leave?"

The guard on his left swallowed hard. "Approximately three hours ago, Your Majesty. Shortly after you left...."

"And you let her go?" The temperature in the corridor suddenly spiked as the tapestries began to smoke at the edges.

"We received no orders to detain her Y..your Majesty," the guard said nervously, sweat beading his forehead. "She seemed to have completed her duties so we assumed...."

"You assumed?" Draeven's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "I gave her a direct command to wait in my chambers, she looked me in the eye and said 'Yes Your Majesty' and ran the moment my back was turned."

Both guards visibly paled.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Sight.

They fled.

His chest heaved as he stood alone, his entire body vibrating with barely suppressed fury. And underneath all that rage, something else, something that made his jaw clench and hands shake.

She'd run from him.

The audacity, the sheer defiance.

No one defied him. No one dared.

And yet she had.

Women grovelled for his attention. They schemed and plotted for a single night in his bed. They wore their most seductive gowns, perfumed their skin and practiced their most sultry looks all to catch his eye.

And this mere servant girl with her drab grey dress and her terrified face had fled from him like he was a monster.

The thought alone should have further enraged him, but instead, some twisted sick part of him found it thrilling.

Part of him wanted to hunt her down and drag her back to his chambers, make her understand what exactly happened to those who defied him.

She'd disobeyed him, the Dragon King. Challenged him. Refused to simply submit and spread her legs like all the others.

His cock, which had finally begun to soften hardened once again at the memory of her wide violet blue eyes and the way she'd gasped when she'd felt his erection pressing against her soft thighs through her wet clothes.

Untouched.

He'd known right from the moment he'd smelled her. That untouched sweetness, unmarked by any male. The knowledge of this had sent his dragon into a frenzy. Mine. Claim her.

He pushed open his chamber doors, stepping into the empty room. His eyes were immediately drawn to the chair by the fireplace where her damp dress had been placed.

She'd refused the fine gowns he'd offered, she refused to accept anything from him.

Stubborn little mouse.

He moved to the bathing chamber, where the water still held traces of her scent....Lavender and something uniquely her. Sweet, pure and intoxicating.

He stripped his clothes off as he tried to figure out what exactly she was and why her touch alone deeply affected him. But his body had a mind of its own.

He looked down at his straining erection, rock hard and aching for release. He'd been in this state for hours making the council meeting absolute torture for him.

Every time the fabric of his pants rubbed against his cock he'd thought of her.

"Fuck" he growled, palming himself through his pants. This was absolutely ridiculous, he was the Dragon King, he could summon any woman, take the pleasure he sought and completely forget about the confusing servant girl who'd managed to get under his skin.

But he didn't want anyone else.

He wanted her. That delicious combination of innocence and a hidden fire.

*Flashback* 6 months ago

_________________________

Draeven Thorne, dragon of the scorched peaks, Sovereign of the Obsidian palace, keeper of the eternal flame, prowled the eastern corridor after another mind numbing council meeting, when he laid eyes on her for the very first time.

A flash of silver in his peripheral vision. He turned his head.

A skittish servant girl, carrying linens with her head bowed, moving quickly along the wall trying impossibly hard to be invisible.

She glanced up as he passed, just for a fraction of a second.

Violet blue eyes met golden ones.

Then she quickly looked away, pressing herself against the wall and hurrying away like his gaze would incinerate her on the spot.

His dragon stirred, stopping him in his tracks.

What in the world was that?

He turned to watch her as she disappeared around the corner, silver blonde hair escaping from a messy braid.

Just a servant, nothing special.

Yet something in his chest had shifted when those eyes met his.

Then he shook his head and continued walking. He'd forget this by morning.

*5 months ago*

__________________________

"Kael."

His second in command glanced up from the military reports scattered across the war room table. "Yes, my king?"

"There's a girl. Silver blonde hair. Works somewhere in the lower levels. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

Kael's eyebrows shot up. "That's..... remarkably vague. There are hundreds of servants in the lower levels....."

"Never mind." Draeven sharply turned back to the territorial maps. "It's nothing of importance."

"If you say so my King."

But when Dreaven looked back Kael was smiling. The bastard was actually smiling.

"What?"

"Nothing at all." Kael's expression remained infuriatingly amused, "Just that you've asked me about three different girls in the past month. All young women. That's very unlike you."

"I'm keeping my options open. Variety makes things much more interesting."

"Of course, very pragmatic of you." Kael's smile widened "What color was her hair again?"

"Fuck Off Kael."

"Silver blonde, Noted. I'll make enquiries."

"I didn't ask you to...."

"But you would have eventually. This saves much more time."

Draeven seriously wanted to set his second on fire.

That night he dreamt of violet eyes and woke up hard and furious at himself.

Draeven's POV

____________________________

*Flashback* 4 months ago

He found her in the gardens.

He hadn't meant to, he'd been walking the place grounds, restless and irritable, when he'd suddenly heard humming, melodic and hauntingly beautiful.

He traced it to the herb garden located at the east wall.

"And there she was."

Kneeling among the plants, gathering stems into a basket. Her silver hair caught the afternoon sun, seeming to glow. She was humming something wordless and lovely, completely unaware of her surroundings.

And the plants...

When you looked closely it seemed they were leaning toward her, bending in her direction as if they were drawn to her very presence.

That was not normal. Plants didn't do that.

Draeven stayed hidden behind a marble pillar, watching. A minute passed, then ten, then twenty.

What the hell am I even doing.

She was just a girl doing her job. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about gathering herbs.

But the way she moved, graceful, even as she performed mundane tasks. The way her lips tagged into a smile when a butterfly landed on her hand, the way the afternoon sun made her hair shimmer.

Beautiful. His dragon whispered. MINE..i want her.

No. Absolutely not. He was the King,he didn't 'want' random servants. He had standards, control. He wasn't some adolescent boy ruled by impulses.

He forced himself to walk away with his hands clenched into fists. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

That night he took a courtier to bed. A voluptuous dryad who was good with her mouth and hands. She was skilled and more than satisfying.

He sent her away afterward feeling even emptier than he had before. All he could think about was violet eyes, silver hair and a gentle smile.

This is madness, he thought, staring at his ceiling. I'm going mad, a mad king.

*Three months ago*

He'd made a huge mistake.

He'd told himself he was just inspecting his palace. After all, a King should know his own domain.

But the fact that this 'inspection' took him through the kitchens, where he'd never ventured or where no king in living memory had ever bothered to go, was pure coincidence.

The moment he walked in chaos erupted.

Every single servant dropped what they were doing and bowed so low their foreheads almost touched the ground. Pots clattered, someone gasped and the head cook looked like she might faint.

And she was there.

Washing a large copper pot at the far end. She turned at the commotion, saw him and nearly dropped the pot. Her eyes impossibly wide and her face as pale as paper.

Good. She should be. Fear was the appropriate response.

So why did her fear make his chest ache? Why did he want to cross the room and tell her that he'd never hurt her.

"As you were." He said curtly and walked with long purposeful strides through the kitchen pretending to care about the food storage and the condition of their surroundings.

He felt her eyes on him the whole time, quick glances she thought he didn't notice.

Every time he looked her way she immediately looked down, fiddling with her hands.

The terror in her expression should have been satisfying but instead it made him feel like a monster.

He quickly returned to his chambers and poured himself some wine.

"Problem?" Kael asked, materializing from whatever shadow he'd been lurking in.

"I need a woman."

"Usual arrangement?"

"Someone new, I'm bored with the regulars."

"Any particular type?"

"Someone who doesn't look at me like I'm going to kill them."

"That significantly narrows the options, Your Majesty."

"Then just find me a good actress."

"As you wish."

Kael arranged it. A beautiful courtesan, experienced, willing and eager. Dark hair, emerald eyes and generous curves.

She left at dawn thoroughly satisfied and well compensated.

As Draeven laid alone on his massive bed he realized he hadn't enjoyed a single second of it.

All he could think about was silver hair and Violet eyes.

He was well and truly fucked.

*Two months ago*

The incessant dreams began.

Vivid, intense and so real that he'd wake up disoriented and reaching out for her before remembering she'd never been there.

In his dreams she wasn't afraid of him. Her silver blonde hair spread across his pillows as she moaned his name, not "Your Majesty," but "Draeven." Her eyes looked up at him with desire instead of terror, her body arching beneath his, her hands clutching his shoulders as he made her scream....

He'd wake up extremely hard, frustrated and absolutely furious at himself. He hadn't bedded any woman in weeks.

His second in command, Kael, kept complaining about him prowling the palace like a caged animal and setting things on fire at an alarming rate and about how he was terrifying the servants. The furniture budget had tripled overnight.

He was right, and Draeven completely hated when Kael was right.

This was all her fault.

What are you? And what the hell have you done to me?

*One month ago*

He finally made his decision at dawn.

He'd had enough. It was ridiculous, all of it.

He was the Dragon King, not some lovesick fool obsessing over a woman he barely knew.

He'd bring her into his service. Get her close. Figure out what this strange obsession was. Once he had her near him performing mundane tasks the mystery would fade. She'd be ordinary up close , probably even awkward, boring and irritating. The fantasy was always far better than reality.

"Kael."

His second in command appeared instantly. "My King?"

"My current chamber attendants are quite unsatisfactory.

"In what way?" Kael asked, his expression neutral.

"In every way, I want them replaced."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"And you want them replaced with....?" Kael's tone was carefully neutral but Draeven could hear the amusement underneath.

"There's a girl, silver blonde hair, works in the kitchens. Find out her name and arrange for her to be reassigned to my personal service."

"Ah," Kael's lips twitched "The mysterious girl who's been occupying your thoughts for half a year."

"Don't make this weird, Kael"

"Well, I'm not the one who's been obsessing over a servant for six whole months, setting furniture on fire and destroying the training yard on a daily basis.

"Are you going to do this or not?"

"As you command." Kael bowed with an insufferable smile.

He paused at the door. "Draeven?"

The use of his actual name made him look up. Kael rarely did that.

"What?"

"Don't hurt her." his second's expression was serious now. "Whatever this is, whatever you're feeling.... don't hurt her."

"I'm not planning to hurt anyone."

"You never plan to. You just do" Kael's eyes held centuries of knowledge, of watching Draeven destroy things. Cities, enemies, relationships. "This one feels different. I can see it in you. So whatever you do, be careful with her.

He left before Draeven could respond.

Draeven returned to the balcony, gripping the railing hard enough that it began to crack beneath his hands.

*The day before*

Draeven stood in his chambers, scrutinizing the space with new eyes

She'd be here soon, cleaning, organizing and breathing the same air as he did.

He'd planned it carefully. He'd "accidentally" be in his bathing chamber when she arrived for her first day. It was manipulative, calculated, probably wrong.

But he didn't care. He'd been patient for six long months, he'd tried to forget her, tried to fuck her out of his system, tried to be rational. Nothing worked.

So now he'd take a different approach. He'd corner his little mouse and figure out what made her so god-damned special.

*Present day*

Draeven moved to his desk with purpose. Time to ensure his little mouse had nowhere else to hide.

He pulled out parchment and quill, his handwriting sharp and precise.

Mistress Calloway ,

The servant Elara is hereby permanently assigned to my personal service, effective immediately. She is to attend to my needs every morning at dawn and is not to be given other duties.

Furthermore, she is to be moved from the servants quarters to the chamber adjacent to my own by tomorrow evening.

Any failure to comply will result in your immediate dismissal and banishment from the Obsidian Palace.

---His Majesty, King Draeven Thorne.

He sealed it with the Royal Crest and called for a messenger.

A young draconian appeared immediately bowing low. "Your Majesty."

"Deliver this to Mistress Calloway immediately. I expect confirmation within the hour. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Far below in the depths of the palace, Elara was probably scrubbing pots.

She had no idea what was coming.

"Run all you want, little mouse, but you're mine."