Charlotte: Fated to the White Dragon
Then a smile creeps across his face, one of those devastating, dimpled smiles that could ruin a woman’s life.
“You’re Charlotte. Pretty sure you knew that.”
Smug bastard.
“You know exactly what I mean, Damon,” I snap at him.
The smile fades slowly and darkly. He leans back, arms folding over his broad chest like a wall.
“You’re Druiss.”
A shiver trickles down my spine. That name again.
“Okay… and what’s a Druiss?”
“A Druiss is a Dreil.”
I groan. “And what’s a Dreil?”