The Cursed Dragon’s Doll

Elle POV Pain seared up my arms as the chain jerked cruelly, dragging me up from the stone floor. Metal bit into my wrists—silver—burning straight through skin and bone. The clinking echoed like a taunt, a reminder: I was trapped, helpless, already as good as dead. They forced me to my feet before him. Alpha Jacob. He sat on his throne of carved blackwood like a king surveying a stain on his floor. I had crossed into his pack’s territory—me and a handful of starving rogues—hoping to steal enough food to survive another week. But stealth had failed us. Wolves always hunted better than the desperate. Now the others were dead. And I was next. My breath fogged in the cold air as the Alpha’s voice slammed into me. “State your name.” My throat tightened. “Elle.” The Alpha rose, towering, his shadow swallowing mine whole. His hand clamped my chin and tilted my face up until I had no choice but to drown in his icy, assessing stare. His breath brushed my skin—hot, dominant, wolf through and through. “Such beauty,” he murmured, almost pitying. “Wasted on someone… wolfless.” My heart stuttered. “I—I haven’t met my wolf yet.” The confession scraped out of me, brittle as glass. My pulse banged in my ears loud enough to drown out everything else. “Your age?” he demanded. “Nineteen.” His expression hardened. “You know this pack does not spare rogues. Theft earns a death sentence.” The words landed with a dull finality. I lowered my head and let the inevitability settle over me like a shroud. “I accept my fate,” I whispered. What was left to fight for? Hunger? Running? Fear? The Alpha hummed—a low sound, thoughtful, almost curious. “You do not beg,” he said. “Interesting.” He stepped back, folding his arms. “Today is a special day, little rogue. So you are being given… a choice.” A flicker of something—hope?—tried to spark in my chest, but the weight of reality smothered it quickly. “Death,” he said, “or a path to regain your freedom.” My head snapped up. “How?” “The dragon prince is visiting the packs. He seeks a new Doll.” The word hit me like a slap. D-doll. “I won’t deny your looks,” the Alpha continued. “You are suitable. If you bind yourself to the prince for three years, you will earn your freedom afterward.” My stomach churned. “You will be housed in the dragon kingdom—in a personal cell, well fed…” He paused, letting the silence tighten around us. “…and in return, your body becomes the prince’s property. To use as he desires.” My breath froze mid-exhale. “A s*x slave,” I croaked. “The dragon prince would never mate with a rogue,” Jacob scoffed, as if that were somehow a kindness. But everyone knew about the cursed prince—the monster who rarely left dragon lands, whose presence alone set the sky on fire. What would he want with someone like me? Not that it mattered. It was this… or a grave. “I accept,” I whispered. “Good.” A yank on the chain ripped me forward. They dragged me away, my feet slipping over cold stone, until I was thrown into a dark cell. The door slammed shut with a finality that rattled my bones. Then silence. Then cold. Then fear. Time crawled. My shoulders ached, my wrists bled, and the rags on my back did nothing to shield me from the freezing draft creeping through the cracks in the stone. But what gnawed at me more than the cold was the truth sinking in like poison: Why would a dragon—cursed, dangerous, ancient—choose me? The hinges groaned suddenly. The cell door cracked open. A wolf guard stood at attention. But he wasn’t who made my blood turn to ice. A figure stepped out of the shadows—tall, impossibly so, with eyes that glowed like molten embers. Red. Alive. Predatory. Dragon. “Leave us,” he commanded the guard, who immediately obeyed. When the door shut behind him, the dragon shifted his focus to me. His voice was smooth but edged in steel. “I am not here to hurt you,” he said. “You have volunteered to be the dragon prince’s Doll.” My stomach twisted. There was no taking it back now. “Before you sign, you must understand what your role truly means,” he continued. “If you refuse, you will still be taken to our kingdom, but as a slave. If you accept the Doll contract, you will earn freedom, land, and employment after three years.” Freedom. Real freedom. I nodded slowly. He stepped closer, heat radiating off him like a living wildfire. “You must also know this: if you choose not to sign, I will erase this conversation from your memory. That same potion will be used once your service ends.” A shiver raced through me. “I understand.” He held my gaze for a long moment. “Now—this will be verified. Lying will not end well for you.” He paused, then: “Are you a virgin?” My face burned. “Yes.” “Good,” he murmured—not with desire, but calculation. “The prince is cursed. His rut is… relentless. Nightly. Sometimes lasting days.” My breath caught. “Your pheromones will soothe him, but only when both of you are aroused.” My pulse thundered. “So by signing, you surrender your body to him completely. He may touch you, torment you, use you however he pleases. But he will not mate you unless granted extra permission.” My legs trembled. My mind screamed. Yet the image of freedom—three years away—glowed like a star in the dark. “I’ll sign,” I said, barely audible. He nodded once. “Your blood will be your signature.” He freed my hands. I didn’t realize how numb they’d become until pins of agony stabbed through my fingers. He pricked my skin and guided my bleeding fingertip to the parchment. The moment my blood touched the page, something ancient stirred in the air—like a breath from the earth itself. “Now,” he said softly, “you will feel only a small pinch.” His hand brushed my arm. A sting—sharp, fleeting. And then the world fell away. Darkness swallowed me whole.