Her insides swam with warmth.
She reluctantly withdrew her fingertips, gazing between them and the desk before realizing how unnatural it was for her to be able to sense such a thing. In this dream world, either the items radiated such knowledge, or she had the power to detect them. Either way, it intrigued her.
Leaving the desk behind, she approached a small table with an assortment of liquor bottles and a tray of cheeses and breads. Just the sight of them made her mouth water. Picking up a slice of cheese the color of ripe oranges, she turned it over in her hand, then shrugged, and took a bite. Mild flavored, it melted in her mouth and enflamed her hunger for real food. Greedily, she ate her fill of the cheese, before moving onto the dark bread filled with nuts and fruits.
When she was finished, she stared at the empty plate, feeling mildly embarrassed at her gluttony. But not enough to resist grabbing hold of a glass and reaching past a bottle, obviously of Wipenhol, to pour herself a drink of pale wine. The taste of peaches filled her mouth, followed by the slight harshness associated with liquor. She drained her glass and set it down, wanting more, but holding back. Her stomach was full, her thirst quenched, and she was at a comfortable temperature for the first time in days. What more could she want?
A slight movement of the thin curtains drew her attention to the large porcelain tub, as if this place knew her every thought. Moving to it, she ran her hand along the smooth side. A wrongness met her fingertips, making her curl them back. Magic vibrated through the tub, but it was unlike the Elven crafts. It was as if the tub held a buzzing bee, angrily thrashing to escape.
The thought of bathing in a tub and washing off the filth of so many days of travel was tempting, but she moved away from the tub and caught her own reflection in a long mirror just outside the enclosure of curtains around the bath. She watched herself reach up to touch her crinkled, blonde hair, billowing recklessly around her face and falling to the small of her back. Her image made her frown. Her face looked too narrow and suntanned, overpowered by the messy curls. She tried to smooth it, to twirl it, but it sprang free. But what was more, she was clean.
Again, she wondered if her own thoughts brought such a change to her appearance, or in this dream world, she hadn’t noticed being clean. Or perhaps, she was still somehow aware of her filthy body lying empty and vulnerable in the waking world and so had imagined she was dirty in this world too but wasn’t.
The thought brought a wave of panic racing through her. She needed to get out of here, to find her way back. How could I have so easily forgotten? The mist tugged at her again, startling her. It commanded her presence, and she watched as more of it drifted from the crack beneath the door to cloak most of the floor in the pale blue mist. When she tore her eyes from it, she forgot what had caused her panic, focusing instead on what the mist wanted from her.
Again, as if in answer to her question, her eyes were drawn to the unexplored part of the room. A whole corner was curtained off with thick, black fabric. Moving to it, she was stunned not to have noticed it before, just beyond the circle of golden pillows. It dominated a large portion of the room.
Reaching out, she pulled back the fabric.
Inside, a man lay sprawled on a small bed.
She jumped back, letting the curtain fall back into place. For several seconds she waited, her heart beating uncontrollably, as she prepared herself for the man to emerge. But when he failed to spring out at her, she risked parting the curtains again.
This time, the firelight more clearly highlighted his still form. Tall and handsome, he stretched out, tucked beneath the dark blankets. His hands clenched a small bottle to his bare chest. He had the olive-skinned complexion of a Seer, but his face lacked even a single tattoo, and his dark hair was cut nearly as short as her cousin Bronson’s, but stood slightly longer on top. His face looked smooth. Her fingers itched to stroke the strong line, so relaxed in sleep. But there was also the strangest thing about the man, tiny sparkles dusted above his brows and along his temples. For a minute she thought they were tiny gems, but as she stared, she realized they were really tiny scales… silver and grey slivers that shone.
She had never seen someone like him before. And as strange as seeing a scaled man might have been, it was even stranger how attractive the scales were. She even spotted some running down his chest, and her mouth went dry. Where else does he have scales? The thought made her blush.
And then his eyes opened.
For one long moment, she was too engrossed by their grey depths to react, and he, in turn, did little more than stare. Her heart pounded in her ears, but not from fear as she’s imagined, but from the simple fact that the man lying half-naked before her was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
“You can’t be a dream,” he said, still not moving. His accent turned the words to silk. So like Acker’s, and yet, not.
Warmth flooded her cheeks as she answered him, “and why not?”
He leaned up onto his elbows, a frown marring his features. “I’ve never dreamed of a woman like you.”
For some reason, his words hurt. “Oh.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Regret filled his eyes as he noticeably struggled for how to explain himself. “I’m a soldier. I dream about women a lot. Probably too much. But they’re always women I’ve been with before. And most look the same. Dark hair. Curvacious. Mostly other Seers.” He paused, then spoke with complete sincerity. “I don’t even know what you are.”
It felt like a punch to the gut. Never before had she considered that one day she’d meet such a beautiful man, only to learn he didn’t feel the same about her. Her perspective of herself took an unpleasant turn. It wasn’t that she thought herself perfect, but she’d always thought she was pretty, so much so that she gave her looks very little thought. Now, she considered the fact that her lean frame and crazy blonde hair might be unpleasant to some men.
Clenching her fists, she willed herself not to care about such ridiculous feelings. But it was easier said than done. The beautiful man still lay watching her. A man who’d just spoken openly of his dreams of other women. Just the thought of it brought hurt and shock to the surface. Men didn’t speak of such things, especially to her.
She stiffened. If this man was the reason she’d been pulled into this dream world, instead of focusing on why he didn’t think her dream-worthy, she’d find out how to be free of him. That was logical. And that’s what she would do now, pushing aside all else.
“What am I doing here then?”
He sat all the way up and ran a tanned hand through the front of his messy hair. “I don’t know.” And then, he lifted his other hand, the one still clenching the bottle, and looked up at her, shock in his eyes. “The water, of course!”
“What water?”
“The water,” he repeated, as if she hadn’t spoken. “It either brought me to you or you to me. Either way, it knows what it’s doing.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Can you try to make some sense?”
This time he met her gaze. “I finally drank a drop of the water. It should show me what to do. And it brought me to you. So what do I do?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she told him honestly. “I was just about to fall asleep when I was brought here. I’m not in the safest place, so I just want to leave.”
His frown deepened.
He tossed back the covers, and she looked away, shocked. He strode to the fire, and she tried to look everywhere but at his naked body. At first, she assumed he’d put clothes on, but instead, he simply paced. Using her peripheral vision, she watched his stiff back as he moved, not daring to look lower.
“This doesn’t make sense.” He finally said. “I took a great risk drinking it. You have to be the answer.”
He stopped just feet in front of her, waiting for her response.
The room grew uncomfortably warm, “put on some clothes.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken her thoughts
aloud until he responded.
“You have a problem with nudity?”
Her cheeks were ablaze. “Of course!”
“What people do you hail from?”
She stared at her feet. “I guess you call us Stonebuilders.”
“A Stonebuilder? That’s even more confusing.”
He went back to pacing. Then stopped. “Oh yes, clothing.”
Crossing the room, he disappeared behind the black curtains surrounding his bed. When he came back, he wore a short pair of loose trousers that barely reached his upper thigh. It wasn’t much better, but at least she could look at him once more. It grew easier to think.
“So, you think some water brought me here to help you?”
“Yes,” he nodded.
“Well, let’s assume you’re right.” She took a steadying breath. “What do you need help with?”
Their eyes met. “Can I trust you?”
“Yes.” She said the word without any doubt. This man, with his gentle eyes, wouldn’t ask anything she’d refuse.
“Good.” He crossed to the table laden with different liquors and poured them each a glass of pale wine. “Let’s sit at the fire.”
And they did.
He arranged the pillows so they faced each other, cross-legged, and close enough to touch. “I need to tell you about our mission if you’re going to help us.” He handed her a glass of wine and took a sip from his own. This close, the beauty of his scales were breathtaking, catching the firelight and stealing her breath for a moment before his voice focused her back onto the conversation. “It’s a secret we’ve taken great pains to keep hidden from your people.”
Secret? Oh yes, for a minute she’d forgotten about the mission and the secret. But now, she forced herself to concentrate on his words.
The seriousness in which he spoke made her wonder if she’d agreed to keep his secret too easily. “Are you planning on hurting us?”
He smiled, a dazzling crooked smile. “No, I’m actually, I guess, trying to save the world, if you will.”
She returned his smile, hesitantly. “Then, I give you my word I’ll keep your secret.”
Leaning forward, he touched her wrist with his fingers. “That’s all I can ask of you.” Then, he released her. “But, I’m going to ask more. I need help...” He hesitated.
She waited, not knowing what to expect. What could the handsome man possibly want her help with?
At last, he released a slow breath and continued. “With finding the dragons’ nests. At least one of them.”
Dragons? Oh, fuckery.
What have I agreed to?
4
Kadelynn
After she’d stared at him long enough to realize he was sincere, she drew herself up taller. Everything she knew of dragons was… not good. So why would anyone want to bring them back? And why would bringing them back help the world?
“I don’t understand. What do dragons have to do with saving the world?”
“Everything!” he exclaimed. “Since they’ve been gone the world is like a barrel with a hole in it. Sooner or later, all the world’s magic will be gone.”
She knew he might not like her next question, but she asked it anyway. “Why does that matter?”
He straightened. “Only a Stonebuilder could say something like that. Your people are the only ones who have done everything they can to fence out magic, to kill it from your genes, and leave yourselves blind to the world. That’s why I wondered why the magic sent you to me.”
“We don’t ‘fence out’ magic. We can’t help it that we aren’t a magical people by nature.”
He drank more of his wine, then set the glass back on his knee, while his finger tapped a thoughtful rhythm on it. “I have to admit. I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing by talking to you. I assumed the magic would send me… well, someone or something who knew more about this than I do, but I’m never one to question where it leads me.” His finger stopped tapping. “Your people do fence magic out. Your white stones, created by your Protector, affect magic. They make magical people sick and can kill them if they stay around them too long. What’s more, they feed on all of your magic until you have only enough left to live. It’s a terrible thing.”
She knew he wasn’t lying. The honesty in his voice was hard to miss, and yet, she’d heard that all of Eshire was built using the special stones The Protector blessed. Using his skills, The Protector drove all impurities from the rocks, until they shone flawlessly bright.
She’d seen the stones before. All of the Cowardly Ones had brought one of the stones over and built their great halls’ largest fireplaces around the brilliant stone. All of them, including her father. To her, the rocks were a symbol of the strength of their Protector, but it was hard to believe they held a sinister and powerful ability.
And yet, maybe only one stone in our home is the reason why Sergeant says he thinks I have a little of the old magic in me. I always thought he was teasing, because of my natural instincts, and my ability to discern when others are lying. But what if I have a spark of the old magic because we only have one stone in our home?
“So you’re saying…?”
“I’m saying your people can’t value something they don’t fully have. If magic were to fade from the world, you’d likely think it wouldn’t affect you at all, but it would. Which is why I’m surprised the magic sent you to me. And why I feel I need to make you sympathetic to our cause.”
She tried to follow his logic. “If I’m sympathetic to your cause, what then?”
“I’m not sure.” He went back to tapping his glass. “I guess we just trust that the magic knew what it was doing.”
“You’ve already said that.” She smiled.
“So I have,” he agreed, with a sigh. “I just think maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll believe it.”
She glanced away from him, watching the mist drifting around them and wondering if he could see it. And then realized something else.
“You haven’t told me your name.”
He stopped tapping. “Drazen.”
“Drazen. Unusual. But it kind of sounds like Dragon. That’s how I’ll remember it.” She stopped, realizing she was speaking her thoughts aloud. “I’m Kadelynn.”
“Kadelynn,” he repeated, only her name sounded beautiful as he drew out the lynn. “I like it.” He tilted his head and certainty filled his expression, easing the lines of tension. “What do you know of dragons?”
She knew other races saw them more favorably than her own people, so she decided to tread lightly. “I know they were fearsome.” Her palms grew damp as he watched her, and she drank some of the wine to ease her nerves. If she wasn’t honest, how could she help him? “I know they took what they wanted. Livestock got eaten. Crops burned. People died. And they cared not a bit for their destruction, because they were vicious, stupid creatures.”
There. She said it.
He couldn’t have looked more surprised if she’d tossed ashes in his face. “You’ve got it all wrong. The dragons did all those things, but mainly, to your own people. And they felt justified in doing it because your people were one of the few that hunted them.”
“No,” she interrupted. “They started it.”
He went back to tapping at his glass for a while before finally speaking. “How many dragons have you met?”
She laughed. “None.”
“Well, I’ve met plenty, so—“
“That’s impossible, they’ve been gone for fifty years.”
He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “Exactly. I’m a great deal older than you.”
“But you can’t be more than a handful of years older than me.”
“I am,” he reassured her, then spoke on before she could deny his words. “And I didn’t just meet dragons. I spoke to them. Played with them. Raised their young. There were many I even called ‘friend’.”
“That’s impossible. Everyone knows dragons are just dumb beasts.”
This time he
looked insulted, and she immediately wished she could take her words back. But he didn’t give her a chance.
“Dragons are as intelligent as we are. More perhaps. They love, and they hate. Live and die. And the world is a darker place without them.”
She felt thoroughly scolded, even though she didn’t believe him.
He reached out tentatively and touched her wrist once more. In his eyes, he asked her permission. She gave it, with a hesitant smile, even not knowing exactly what he was asking. He moved his hand so it cradled hers, resting on her knee. His touch felt more intimate than either of the two kisses she’d exchanged with men in her life, and a great deal more welcome.
“I’m going about this all wrong.” He took a deep breath. “You won’t believe me if I just tell you to believe me. I need to explain it.” His warm hand didn’t move, but his eyes focused on the flames. “Sarfy was my dragon. Like a flying star, she was silver and black, but her eyes were the color of emeralds. She was born in the days of my grandfather and was a wild, headstrong thing. She never listened to the Dragon Tenders and never bonded with any of them. But she was a beauty, sought after by all the male dragons, but with little drive to mate.”
His mouth quirked into his crooked half-smile again, as if he could picture the spit-fire dragon even then. “But the day I was born she came back to us and claimed me as her own. She watched over me like a protective mother and finally settled for different mates each season, to bear sons and daughters to carry on her memories.”
“How did she claim you?”
He didn’t look away from the fire as he spoke. “She flew down and rested upon the sands outside my mother’s door, demanding to see me. And when my mother presented me to her, a squalling, naked babe, she touched her nose to mine. My mother said it calmed me, that I reached for Sarfy. It’s a memory all those around remember, even to this day, for she stretched up, trumpeting loudly, and told everyone within hearing that I was hers.
Dragon Memories: A High Fantasy Reverse Harem Romance (Legacy of Blood and Magic Book 2) Page 3