Niall swears loudly when he sees the ginormous head appear. “Fuckin’ ‘ell!”
It’s an enormous head of a dragon. Its purple-to-black scales gleam in the sunlight and two twin streams of flames flare from its nostrils. It stomps its forepaw and Niall swears that the ground shakes violently at that.
Harry yelps and turns into a chocolate brown tabby. The now-cat boy makes a beeline away from the beast. Niall curses again and takes out his Glock .45 and aims at its heart. The bullet just bounces off its chest pathetically and Niall swears colourfully.
He knew that he should have invested in those enchanted bullets!
Harry is nowhere to be found, so Niall can only assume that the cat boy is elsewhere safe.
Taking a deep breath, he aims for the dragon’s unblinking amber eye. It blinks and effectively deflects it.
Well there only one thing to do at this sort of situation.
Niall clicks the safety back on and runs away like his life depends on it. (Oh wait, it does)
The ground is trembling as the dragon follows him. Niall springs at his full speed and for once in his life, he is glad that he is shortish and thin.
The damn dragon is too persistent for his good and soon, he realises that he will be caught.
Just then, a soft mewl catches his attention. A small tabby is running alongside him and he looks up at the blonde with a determined look.
“You’re gonna distract the dragon for me?” Niall confirms.
Harry rolls his eyes as if to say, ‘you don’t say?’
“Love you, Haz.”
The cat mews and jumps in front of the dragon. The beast looks confused at the tiny cat but then, Harry grows into a chocolate tabby the size of a tiger.
Niall runs away from the two beasts. The dragon starts to follow him but the giant cat swipes his claws at the dragon, diverting its attention away.
Perrie is sitting on the edge of Zayn’s bed, looking down at his sleeping form. Zayn has always looked smashing and dangerously handsome, but asleep, the prince is an angel come to earth. The guardian angel strokes his soft black hair. She’ll always love him but she knows that she also wants Zayn to be happy with the second love of his life.
As if on cue, Niall bursts through the double door to the bed chambers. He wanders through the vast space until he reaches the centre, where Zayn’s private room is. Normally, the room would be locked at all times but not now.
The canopy bed is hidden from view by thick, burgundy velvet curtains. The bedframe looks really antique and elegant, probably made decades ago. There is a royal purple shag rug underneath, the sole object in the room that isn’t ‘fancy’.
Drawn partly by magick, and partly by curiosity, Niall saunters forward. Perrie hovers over the bed now, not wanting to block Niall. The blonde Irishman draws back the curtains.
Niall lets out a nearly inaudible gasp as he stares at the enchanted prince. He has an exotic beauty about him: olive skin, dark hair, full red lips, and lush ink-hued lashes that form half-moons underneath his large eyes. His face is tilted slightly towards the door and his hands and resting on top of his chest, folded together. The bed is covered with simple white bedclothes, but the sheen it gives off isn’t natural; a veil of magick is covering it.
He traces the faint veins that go up the back of the olive hand and to his arm. There is a small tattoo of the outline of a swallow. Myriad of tattoos cover the prince’s arm, varying from ink splatter, bandana, ‘ZAP’, a microphone, a skull, and many other things. It’s incredibly sexy and Niall is sure that there are more hiding under the simple white button-down.
Perrie sighs exasperatedly. Niall is supposed to have kissed Zayn by now. But no, the seemingly innocent blond is far too busy eye-raping Zayn.
Completely unaware of the angel’s frustration, Niall trails his fingers up the prince’s arm, up his collarbone, the faint veins on the side of his throat, and to the light dusting of beard on his jawline. Even his stubble is soft. Niall wonders if his hair is even softer.
His hand moves up on its own accord and tangles in the dark locks. The prince’s hair is softer than anything Niall has known—even the fur on the back of Harry’s ears. He marvels at the sleeping beauty laid out in front him, once again mesmerised.
The prince’s eyelashes are so thick and so long that Niall bets that he could count them individually if he tried. They frame the prince’s eyes, forests of short dark hairs that shouldn’t belong on such a handsome, masculine face. Without really thinking about it, Niall lowers his hand to touch the tips of the lashes on his right eye. They are really soft and full enough for three or four girls.
Niall trails his hand further down to stroke Zayn’s un-blushing cheeks. At his touch, they lift up a touch, lips curving into a ghost of a smile.
Perhaps, he is dreaming pleasant things, Niall guesses.
Now, what is he supposed to do?