’ Please don’t make me laugh, not right now.. It’s not funny. ’
Daenerys threw a withering glare at the men who had carried Ramsay into the bungalow. They claimed that a group of mutants had stumbled onto the island in a rickety boat, but from their overlapping excuses, she suspected someone had directed the boat deliberately. It was no secret that the colony on the adjoining island had been culled by her hand and the rest were frightened. They didn’t dare attack her, but it seemed they believed Ramsay was outside of her protection. This belief would be corrected shortly. As soon as they eased Ramsay onto the sofa, they turned to Dany and, with a flick of her wrist, burst into flames, screaming and clawing at themselves. The man at the door backed up a step.
“Tell your colleagues that should anything happen to my companion, they will not need worry if my Father will have them at his side. I will destroy their souls. Go now, before I change my mind about giving them warning,” Dany directed with a small wave of her hand. The man stumbled over his feet and fell, only to scramble wildly up before taking off in a run. Fury smoldered in her gaze as she went to Ramsay’s side, hissing at the wound on his shoulder. “Be still, my little demon. I must heal this else you will fall to infection.” Reaching out, her fingertips hovered just above his torn flesh as her amethyst gaze melted into blackness. His wound would grow warm as muscle and tissue knitted back together. There was no scar, but a small mark in the shape of a dragon. “You are mine now.”
