The Dragons of Paragon by Genevieve Jack
The stars have aligned and it’s time for the Defenders of the Goddess to take back the throne of Paragon or be crushed under the evil empress’s heel. Colin is at the center of it all, so why can’t he stop his inner dragon’s obsession with elf scribe Leena?
Leena raised her eyes, and they instantly locked on Colin. Although he was only one of several shirtless masses of muscle performing exercises on the beach, he might as well be moving through his routine alone for how much she noticed the others. Maybe it was his size; he had at least a hundred pounds on his twin, Dianthe’s mate Sylas, and was as large, if not larger, than Gabriel. Golden skin glinted with sweat, his muscles bunching and rippling with his movement.
Colin pivoted, shouting instructions to the other dragons. They all paired up and started to spar. Sylas and Colin exchanged punches and blocks faster than her eye could follow. Their almost identical garnet rings 1ashed in the sunlight as their heavily muscled forearms connected again and again.
The dragons always trained with their wings out. Colin’s were leathery and dark red, almost black, with a lethal-looking hooked talon at each apex. He wielded those massive claws like the weapons they were, hooking into the talons in Sylas’s lighter-colored wings to hold him in place before landing a strike into his brother’s side.
Everything about Colin designated him as their leader, from the way he carried himself to the confident gleam in his gray eyes that always reminded her of burnished steel. And then there was his arm. Wavelike furrows ran from wrist to neck. She’d watched him snatch the purple orb from the bottom of a sacred pool at superspeed with that arm. It was incredibly brave and equally stupid. The goddess’s tears had burned away his 1esh, and he’d fallen on the sand, writhing in agony. She’d tended his wounds following that ordeal. Although he’d healed, the skin of his arm—his right foreleg in dragon form—was permanently scarred.
Those scars were a symbol of his limitless bravery. A sign of his unreasonable ability to endure pain.
Yes, any opponent should fear what that arm represented. It was proof that Colin would be the last to give in and he’d never give up. Even if the resistance never found the grimoire, Eleanor would be a fool to underestimate him.
“Blink, Leena,” Dianthe said. “Breathe.”
She started, her head snapping around to look at the fairy. “I, uh…” Had she lost herself staring at Colin again?
Her cheeks blazed.