Silent Crown: The Masked Prince's Bride-Chapter 302: A Jealous Dragon

When Leroy opened his eyes again, he pressed a kiss just above her ankle, right where the skin was flushed. Lorraine’s breath hitched. The gesture wasn’t just tender, it was grounding. A knight’s vow made not to his queen, but to the woman who carried his heart and their future.

"Better?" he asked, looking up at her with a half-smile.

She nodded, trying to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. "A little," she admitted softly.

"Good," he said, voice low, brushing his thumb against her skin once more. "Because I’m not done taking care of you yet."

And somewhere behind them, from the vast shadows of the cavern, came a low, rumbling sound, a breath that wasn’t quite a growl, nor quite a sigh. It rolled through the air like thunder restrained.

Lorraine stiffened. The warmth on her skin shifted, deepened, and a faint orange hue flickered across the cave walls.

Leroy turned.

And what met his eyes froze the blood in his veins.

From the darkness, twin embers burned... those eyes, molten and ancient, gleaming with intelligence that predated their world. The firelight danced across scales of silver and gold, each one catching the light like shards of a thousand suns.

Then came the exhale.

A gust of heat swept through the cave, curling around them like a living storm. The dragon’s chest expanded, slow and immense, and when its jaws parted, the fire that followed roared — brilliant, furious, and devastating enough to swallow a city whole if it wished.

Lorraine gasped, instinctively shielding her belly. But before the fire could reach them, Leroy was already moving.

Without thought, without hesitation, he threw himself in front of her. His arms came around her, his body shielding hers, his back facing the inferno. The heat slammed against him, a living wall of flame that painted his silhouette in firelight. His hair whipped in the rising wind, the reflection of hell itself burning in his eyes.

For a heartbeat, Lorraine could only stare — his broad shoulders framed in gold and scarlet, his form standing between her and an ancient god.

Then the fire came.

It surged forward, like a tidal wave of flame, roaring and merciless. It hit them with the fury of a world ending, every spark screaming of destruction. The cavern blazed white with heat. Stones cracked. The air itself seemed to burn.

Lorraine squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for pain, for the sear of fire, the end that would surely consume them both.

But nothing came.

No pain. No heat. No airlessness of smoke. Only the steady thud of Leroy’s heart against her ear — calm, unbroken, impossibly steady.

Her lashes fluttered open.

The inferno raged around them, waves of fire crashing like the sea against a single, unmoving rock. Yet Leroy stood untouched. His shirt didn’t singe, his hair didn’t burn, not a single thread of him yielded to the flame. The fire bent around him, parting as though it knew him, as though it recognized what he was.

The dragon’s chest heaved, its breath a storm of molten light, but the harder it breathed, the more the fire refused to touch him.

Lorraine’s lips parted, a soundless question caught in her throat. Her eyes trailed upward, to his face, to those eyes.

They were glowing.

Amber — molten, alive, like a reflection of the dragon’s own fire. For a moment, they almost seemed to pulse with the same light that came from the demigod itself.

Lorraine felt her breath catch. Slowly, trembling, she looked past him, to the dragon whose fury filled the cavern.

And what she saw made her heart race.

The dragon’s eyes, vast and knowing, burned with the same hue. The same golden fire that now shone in Leroy’s gaze.

The resemblance was unmistakable. The dragon’s fury faltered, its roar softening into something else, a sound like recognition, or disbelief.

Lorraine’s whisper trembled in the firelit silence. "Leroy... your eyes..."

But then, slowly, a smile broke across her face, softly and trembling, but full of awe. Back in their mansion, when he had walked through the burning halls, the flames had bowed to him then, too. But this... this was different. This was no ordinary fire. This was the breath of a god, the wrath of legend itself. And still, he stood untouched.

Now, there was no doubt. He truly was the heir of the dragon.

And as the fire roared, swallowing the cavern whole, Lorraine realized something else: the inferno hadn’t touched her either. Her skin was cool, her breath steady. No pain, no blister, no heat. She was cocooned in his protection, shielded by something ancient and absolute: his power, his love, or perhaps the very flame that once belonged to a god.

Her eyes glimmered with mischief and relief both. Without a second thought, she twisted her braid in her finger and pulled him down to her lips.

Leroy caught her breath mid-laugh. Her kiss was fierce: a release of terror, wonder, and love all tangled into one. He smiled against her lips, the curve of it felt rather than seen, before his hand slid up the back of her neck, his fingers tangling into her hair. He drew her closer, deepening the kiss until the fire around them seemed to pulse with their heartbeat.

This moment... after everything... demanded no words. It demanded only this. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

From the shadows, a deep rumble echoed through the cavern, a sound that was not quite a growl, not quite amusement. The dragon’s molten eyes blinked once, twice. Then came a voice, ancient and gravelly, threaded with disdain.

"Is this what the world has come to?" the dragon muttered, his tone dripping with centuries of disappointment. "Men and women acting impudently before gods and elders alike... unable to behave themselves even in a divine presence?"

Leroy didn’t even look up. Lorraine didn’t bother to stop.

Their lips met again, slow this time... deliberate, defiant.

The dragon exhaled, smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. "Unbelievable," he grumbled, almost to himself. "The last of my bloodline... and he’s busy kissing his mortal wife while standing in dragonfire."

The dragon waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

At first, he told himself he was merely being patient — giving these two reckless mortals a moment to compose themselves. Surely, the display would end soon. Surely, the kissing would cease, and they would turn and offer proper reverence to the godly creature before them.

But alas, the scene before him only grew... noisier. More heated. More offensively affectionate.

The dragon’s massive tail flicked once. Smoke puffed impatiently from his nostrils. Then came a low growl, not of fury, but of deeply personal suffering.

Finally, with the long-suffering sigh of an elder who has seen too much, the dragon spread his wings and flapped once.

The gust was like a storm, it sent sparks flying, the fire recoiling, and Leroy sprawling backward with a most undignified "Oof!"

"This," the dragon thundered, his voice echoing through the cavern like a lecture that had been waiting centuries to be delivered, "is improper! To treat your wife this way before the sacred presence of your ancestor—! Have you no shame, boy?"

Lorraine blinked, trying very hard... and failing... not to laugh.

The dragon jabbed a claw toward Leroy, who was still sitting on the ground, hair tousled and clothes disheveled. "And you!" the dragon went on, his voice climbing in outrage. "You have no reverence for your lineage! No respect for your elders! You did the same disgraceful thing upon the Aurelthar Throne, too!"

Leroy froze. His eye twitched. So that was it. That sharp, burning sting he’d felt that day... the one that bit through his bones as if the throne itself rejected him... it wasn’t symbolism. He even thought that the throne only accepted his wife on it. But... It was this pompous, gold-scaled lizard.

He bit back a groan. Petty overgrown lizard.

"I heard that!" the dragon snapped, his tail slamming against the cavern floor, sending a tremor through the ground.

Lorraine pressed her lips tight, fighting the urge to laugh, but a small, unwilling smile betrayed her. She was trying very hard to remain dignified, truly.

Leroy shot her a warning look — one that said, don’t even think about it.

But it was already too late. The dragon, seeing both of them standing there like chastised children before their tutor, huffed mightily. Smoke coiled in irritation. "Truly, this generation is doomed. My descendants are fools, and their wives are shameless."

Lorraine let out a quiet breath, shaking her head. Wonderful. First an overgrown lizard lectures us, and now I’m being called shameless by a creature who just burned half a mountain for attention.

Still, she couldn’t help the curve of amusement tugging at her lips.

Leroy caught it, sighed, and glared at the dragon. "Of course you do."

Lorraine’s laughter softened, fading into something gentler — almost pitying. She studied the dragon through the rippling heat and smoke, and for the first time, she truly saw him.

He wasn’t just irritated. Beneath the booming reprimands and the arrogant flare of wings, there was something else — a hollowness in his gaze, an ache that flickered like dying embers deep within those ancient amber eyes.

Lorraine tilted her head slightly.

So that’s it, she thought. You weren’t angry because we were being improper. You just... missed it.