Phaux’s tongue thickened
in his mouth unable
to produce an infinitesimal amount of saliva to allow him to swallow. Surely
death was not long in coming to him now. Groaning matched the trembling in his
brain and organs. His vitals fluttered long after the low pulsing sound waves
had been decreased.
The human had kept the sounds throbbing at the peripheral of
his draconic limits, paralyzing him. He couldn’t remember the last he had
anything to eat or drink. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t… what was that sound?
The brittle scurrying sound of movement.
Had the rats
returned enticed by the heavy aroma of his blood? There again.
The man inside the beast screamed as a human hand made
contact with his haunch.
“Here dragon, dragon.
Let’s make a
deal. I’m not going to hurt you, so you don’t hurt me, okay?” A delicate fairy
knelt by him.
He had already warned her away once, no twice. Or was he
hallucinating? She was a woman but something more. An elusive aroma of someone
the man almost remembered was covered by the heavy scented musk of male
dragons.
She felt her way up his body, touch aiding her in the poor
light. Her hands slipped in wet oozing ichor when her palm skimmed the massive
open wound on his back. He groaned
,
there was pain
yes, but also some relief that he would not die alone. This tiny sprite would
know of his passing.
≽
∞
≼
Wren
couldn’t take
time to examine the suffering dragon closer.
First
the sound had to be stopped. She looked around. The collection of speakers
pointed at the floor carried the pounding rhythm of the sound waves focused on
the dragon. She stopped. Not just a dragon. That was a person who shape shifted
into a dragon.
The thought made her a little sick. The sounds grated against
her nerves. She scooted to the side of the room searching for the source of the
noise. There a wall of electronics and speakers. Everything had to have power
to run no matter the complexity of the equipment.
There, that seemed to be the power cord from the sound system
in front of her. She jerked the electrical plug from the wall. The sound ended
with an electronic pop. The relief was instantaneous.
She checked the black dragon. In the dim light his color
dulled to a lack luster shade of grey edged with what looked like bluish tones.
It was hard to tell in the poor light. She was relieved to hear the chains
binding him clank with the small movement of his exhale and hoped it wasn’t his
last.
Next, she either needed the key or something that could break
the iron trapping the dragon’s legs and neck. She searched the work table. A
large piece of soft dark leather like cloth lay across the bench. The fabric
was the texture of a large chamois and buttery soft under her hand.
At least it was clean and she could wrap that around her body
to cover her nakedness. If… no stay positive, when she got clear of the
building she didn’t need to be bare assed trying to flag down help. Wren laid
her sword on the table.
She held up the bath sheet sized swath and did a quick wrap
around her chest, and with a knot over her breasts made a dress out of the soft
leather. In the filth of the room the luxurious cling coated her in the scent
of wild tangy herbs that made her think of tansy and sage.
Wren kept moving looking quickly for keys or any tool she
could use to free the dragon before his captor returned. On the nail, the ring
of keys, hanging conveniently by the door, maybe one of them would fit the
locks
.
≽
∞
≼
The fairy must realize
he was too weak to resist her magic, odd that the tiny thing didn’t seem to
fear of him. On a good day he could crunch her down with one bite. The dragon
portion of his mind was lost in delirious wandering.
The man he was remembered his last good day of freedom-- a
day he spent with Wren Aldridge. He had clung to thoughts of that day. Her
memory became a living flame that he used to concentrate his focus. He had
woven the few remaining shards of his sanity around memory of her for safe
keeping.
He could almost smell her scent now on the small fae woman.
He must be hallucinating.
Wren?
The throbbing beat, the relentless questions, the searing
pain always pain. If he could only grasp his memories better, oh she’d smelled
like jasmine warmed by sunshine. He wanted to recall that fragile aroma now.
Yes, he could smell it clearly over the dust and decay of the room.
Despondent that he had never voiced his desire to claim her.
It would have been a simple life with a human wife, away from all the politics
of Wyrmarach. She would have been a way for him to have escaped.
He would go to the fields of glory and search for his reward.
Pray to the keeper of the Spirits for the Goddess, because what lay beyond this
plain of existence could not be Gla’hera, without Wren’s laughter, her fiery
red hair and lush womanly suppleness.
Focus.
He concentrated on the memory until it was so bright he could imagine her here
before him.
The soft dulcet tones of her voice echoed in his memory and
in the chamber.
“Easy, big guy.
I’m here to help you.”
The delusion always started this way, a dream of freedom,
with his lady coming to his rescue offering release from this hell. Maybe a
million times before, in his vision he was in an open meadow full of flowers
and light. She’d been clothed in gossamer lace spun from spider silk.
The blooms had turned to vines that held him in place, unable
to move, barely able to
breath
. He shook his head
rattling the very real chain around his neck.
“Please, please Mr. Dragon. Don’t eat me. Do you understand?
I’m trying to help you?”
This wasn’t the way the vision was supposed to go. He froze.
Wren
?.
. . here, not a hallucination? She leaned in to
stroke along his dragon jaw-line. Why did she smell of bull dragons? She
struggled with the keys in the locks of his leg shackles.
No. No.
Wren.
You were
supposed
to get help.
You’re are
not safe here.
The words
echoed around in his head unable to find voice or mental thought for
projection. What fiendish hell was this delusion? He couldn’t grasp how she
could be here. Surely this was not real.
≽
∞
≼
Wren didn’t know
too much about real dragons. She just hoped that he could somehow understand
she was here to help him. She tried keys in the locks. He lay moaning oblivious
to her presence. There, the third key fit and released the locked chain around
one leg. She climbed over his massive forearm thick as tree trunks.
“Easy there Mr. Dragon.” Polite seemed the way to go and she
let her voice take on that chatty tone that you might use with scared dogs when
you needed to soothe them, hoping that her tone of voice would go a long way
toward bridging their definite communication gap.
“Did I tell you I know a couple of dragon
guys.
Yes, I do. They might be friends of yours, Caleb and Ethan. And I don’t think
they would be very happy with me right now. I’m thinking they would have told
me to find my way out of here and run for the hills. So you take that into
account and don’t squash me with one of your legs or tail, okay?”
Talking kept her moving and as calm as she could be under the
circumstances. She unlocked the cuffs and chains from three legs, dragging the
heavy thick weight off of him. This stuff would have held an ocean liner at
anchor. Someone had devastated this poor animal.
It was hard to see him as other than a beast at the moment.
To think of him as human was beyond comprehension. She looked back at the
bleeding, oozing patches in his hide. “You’re going to be okay, just hang in
there with me.”
Where were Ethan and Caleb? They would know what to do to
help the dragon. Her fear for them falling into the trap warred with her need
for their help. She struggled with the keys. Each lock had required a different
one. Her nerves were at the breaking point. Finally, a key that did fit into
the lock on the neck collar and would hopefully unlock the clasp.
He started to roll beneath her. “Hold on, just
hold
on.”
He still
had one leg bound that she couldn’t reach. She struggled to unlatch the iron
band. Once done it dropped to the ground.
He thrashed on the floor with a mournful bleating sound. The
final lock holding his hind leg was exposed. She kept trying keys while he
seemed to be waking up to what she was doing. His movement kept her from being
able to get keys in the mechanism.
“You’ve got to be still and let me try to unlock this.” He
didn’t seem to understand. His wings rustled.
Great.
All she needed was him flapping around still chained by one leg.
Oh, crimeny, what do I do now?
Looking
around for an alternate plan, her sword winked a pulse of power in the dim
light. It had certainly been sharp enough earlier.
She gave his tail wide birth, working her way around him back
to the table where she left her sword. His struggling increased. He extended
his tail, sweeping it over her head and landing with a crash against the
shelving by the desk.
“Oh shit, oh shit.” She grabbed up the sword considering its
dull edge. This had to work. Spinning around last time had sharpened the thing.
Sword, I really need
you to work.
She danced around the fidgeting dragon, swinging the sword in
figure eight arches around her body. She was comforted by the prickly feel of
energy coursing down her arms. Ah, the same lyrical singing from the steel as
she swung it whispered of power.
Please let me hit the
iron shackle and not the dragon. Please, Please sword, free him.
She
prayed.
Before the animal could think she was attacking him she
slipped around behind him and used the blade in a cleaving chop. The steel
seemed to sing louder on her downward stroke impacting the iron cuff around the
dragon’s hind leg with a resounding clank.
She opened her eyes in time to see the thick iron encasing
his leg split apart and
drop
to the floor. He was
loose and he knew it. He reared up, turning with a roar. Wren backed up against
the wall butted there by the Dragon’s huge head. His turquoise eyes studying
her sharp and shrewd while he alternately sniffed and blew air over her body.
“Easy there Mr. Dragon. No harm, no foul.”
He raised his head and bellowed causing her to jump. Her
movement, in turn, made him pin her again on the wall, as if she had any
intention of moving. Although running at this point was beginning to seem like
a sensible decision.
Then the dragon started to…deflate? Writhing, wiggling,
agonizing change came upon him. It wasn’t a quick magical thing like she’d seen
Izzy do in transformation to and from the small silver dragon shape.
This was a laborious process that made her cringe. How much
of the agony in the process was because of his injury. She wanted to look away,
that can’t be normal
, but watched
anyway, first mesmerized then shocked.
The man who had dropped out of her life without saying good
bye lay at her feet. Freaking hell, Kiernan Walker was a dragon shifter?
His brown hair hung shaggy around his neck in stringy oily
strands, longer than it had the last time she’d seen him. He was filthy and gaunt.
She’d seen homeless people in better shape.
What was she thinking? Of course what happened to the dragon
would be reflected in the man. He didn’t seem to have wounds or chunks of skin
missing. She could tell because he was very naked, completely naked. Nothing
left to wonder about there. She stared, watched him concentrate and then a
small dark brief appeared covering his dangly bits.
How did he do that? It put her in mind of the briefs the guys
wore in the hot tub. There was definitely something they hadn’t told her. He
stumbled and she rushed to support him. His dragon was gravely injured.
All that was now on the inside, she supposed.
The man spoke
with his voice cracking, his eyes still glowing teal in the low light of the
room.
“Wren, what are you doing here?”
“It looks like I’m rescuing you, you big oaf. Should I come
back later?”
“No.
Wren
you can’t be here...”
He’s plotting to trap you.
“Tell me about it. But I am here and maybe it would be a good
idea if we discussed all this somewhere else.”
His voice fell to a whisper. “Is this real?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Yes.” He clutched her pulling her tight against his side. “I
have to get you out of here.”
“Who’s rescuing who mister.”
The handsome man, now painfully thin, with a haunted light in his eyes that
spoke of the horrors he had experienced chained in dragon form. How long had
Kiernan been here?
“You didn’t leave me by choice, did you?”
Kiernan kept her pinned to his side and stumbled along
dragging her toward the door.
“No Wren, I was taken, months ago, when I left your
house.”
He stopped. “You heard me and
came?”
“Heard you?” She shook her head.
His eyes widened taking in her makeshift dress and sword as
his face paled more, breathing deeply. “I thought that we connected. But you
carry the male dragon scent of another.”
Reason left his eyes. A blank hollow despair settled on his features. He
didn’t seem coherent.
“Don’t pass out on me now. I can’t carry you. We’ve got to
get out of here while we can.”
If they could find where out
was.