On the Accidental Wings of Dragons (Dragons of Eternity Book 1) by Julie Wetzel

on the floor—the room looked right out of some Renaissance movie. A great hearth filled the center of one wall, and bookcases lined the rest. A large, wooden table with four chairs towered over him to the left, and a mountain of a bed was just to his right. That smell seemed to come from everything. He stuck his nose into the blanket wrapped around him and sneezed. Yes, that reek was definitely from whoever lived here. He had to get out of here.
    Wiggling from the blanket, Michael managed to get up on his hands and knees again. Standing all the way up seemed beyond him for the moment. His body still felt odd. Maybe he just needed to get out and stretch.
    Michael pulled himself out onto the wooden floor. Someone had used massive trees to make these boards. Cool air spilled across his skin. Was he naked? Closing his eyes, he tried to recall where he was. Yes, he remembered the frantic tearing off of clothing. If someone had brought him inside, maybe they had brought his clothes in, too. It would have made the most sense to leave them by his bed.
    Turning back, his eyes scanned the pile of blankets he had used. No clothes, but there was something white sticking out of the blankets. It looked fluffy, but not like hair. He had seen something like that before, but he couldn’t remember what. Curiosity crawled through him. He just had to find out what that was. Carefully, he crawled towards it. An itch hit him on the back of the neck, and he shivered.
    Michael froze as the white thing twitched. Was it alive? He was almost to it. One good lunge and he would have it. Bunching up his muscles, he sprang forwards with all his might, grabbing at the thing with his mouth. Mouth? Why was he using his mouth? The thought skittered out of his mind. All he had to do was chomp down, and he would have it. God, he wanted that thing!
    Just as Michael’s jaws tightened on the fluffy thing, a pain shot up his tailbone. Michael stifled the yelp that would have released his prize and rolled away from the blanket and whatever was causing him pain.
    A long, snakelike thing was attached to the fluffy, white thing. Recognition hit him. That was a dragon tail. He had a dragon by the tail! He spit the tuft out and spun to face the dragon he had just bitten, but the tail skittered away from him. Where was the dragon? He spun farther, looking for it. How could the thing hide? It had to be as big as he was.
    Michael froze. Something wasn’t right. The tail was white. There were no white dragons. His brain wasn’t working right, but he knew his dragons. He looked over at the white, tufty thing. Carefully shifting his eyes, he followed the tuft to the tail and up to his backside. Wait, he didn’t have a tail. Turning his head farther, he followed the white scales up his side to the neatly folded wings on his back. No, no, no, this was not happening!
    Michael whipped his head back to the room around him. Was he dreaming? When he was a kid, he used to dream he was a dragon. A grand, green dragon. But it had been years since he’d had those dreams. God, he had to find a mirror or something reflective. He couldn’t be a dragon; he was human.
    Scampering across the room on legs that were much too dragon-like, Michael frantically searched for something reflective. A flash of gold caught his eye—a polished plate. Oh, yes, that would work nicely. Closing his eyes, he crept up on it. This was just a dream. He was not really a dragon. Cracking an eye, he looked at the reflection. Yup, dragon. Closing his eyes again, he shook his head. I am not a dragon. He tried to speak the words into being true, but nothing came out. Hoping it worked anyway, Michael opened his eyes again. Still a dragon.
    A male voice from the doorway caught Michael’s attention. That musky smell was getting stronger. What if this man had done something to make him a dragon? Was he friend or foe? Suspicion shot through him, and he bolted for the darkness under the bed. Must hide. Can’t be