by Haley Weir
“I will always choose you, woman. Don’t ever force me to be without you again. It damn near killed me! I love you, and no amount of time together or apart is ever going to change that.”
“You love me?” Her eyes were wide and he nodded.
“Since the day I met you.”
Chapter 10
Jennifer had a week from hell. She barely survived her finals, and asked for space even from Claire, who willingly gave it. She intentionally left her sweater in class, knowing Claire would give it to Crylaine. She needed him to have some piece of her. She needed to stay true to her word and stick out the week, even though she knew she made a mistake within the first few minutes of the week. But she had to give him the same choice he gave her.
She made her way through the next week like a zombie. Jennifer could feel his brothers watching over her at all times. She felt their presence even when she went home that weekend and crawled into bed in her old childhood room. When her mom and Gigi incessantly asked her what was going on, she eventually relented. She briefly explained she was giving them a week off to truly see if they wanted one another, because they had moved so fast. She didn’t explain about the rooftop, or the dragon part. She just told them she was meeting him to discuss their relationship in a week.
“Si, chica. He is the one. Your heart hurts that he is gone,” Gigi said.
“It doesn’t make sense, Gigi. I haven’t known him longer than a week.”
“Child, haven’t you heard of love at first sight?” she replied incredulously.
“What? That doesn’t actually happen.” She let her face flop back down on the pillow.
“It doesn’t, does it? Then tell me what it was that you felt when you first met him. You can’t deny it. You just didn’t recognize it.” Her Gigi was not wrong, but it didn’t make it any easier.
“Gigi, what if he doesn’t show up?”
“Then you go find him,” she answered simply.
“And if he says he doesn’t want me back?”
“He will,” she said.
“How can you be so sure?” Jennifer cried.
“Because he loves you with the ferocity of a beast. It is large and overwhelming. You can feel it all around the room, like air or wind. He will take you back. You are a silly girl for letting him go in the first place. Why?” she explained. She was so astute sometimes that it was scary.
“Because I needed to prove to both of us that I don’t need him.”
“See, silly! You do need him. Your hearts beat as one. Don’t let love slip away by being silly.” Properly chastised and with an odd sense of hope, Jennifer helped Gigi to her room so that she could go take a nap. Apparently, chasing silly girls to talk sense into them was tiring business. Jennifer went to the kitchen to help her Mom prepare dinner.
“Don’t you ever let him go when you get him back, do you hear me?” her mother scolded.
“Yes, Mom.” She started peeling potatoes to calm the fire that raged inside of her mother. A five-pound bag later and the fire was reduced to minor annoyance. Her family sent her off back to school that night with containers of leftovers, a full belly, and a renewed sense of hope that if she just kept her head down, she could make it through the next week. The first few days were tough, but manageable. The fourth, fifth and sixth were downright rough, and the seventh was a nightmare. She barely slept. On the last day, she walked into the library with an unusually large bag, with her sleeping bag tucked away. Mrs. Cavanaugh did a rare thing and walked to the back of the stacks to sneak a peek at what Jennifer might be up to. Fortunately, Jennifer was ready and was sitting on a couch reading a book when the librarian approached.
“Is everything alright, dear?” she asked.
“Yes, of course. I’m just reading.” Mrs. Cavanaugh narrowed her eyes at Jennifer, seeing past the lie. “I am waiting for a friend and just anxious to see them,” Jennifer admitted.
“Alright. Just don’t forget to check out any books before you leave.” She must think she was trying to smuggle books out in her backpack. Jennifer nodded seriously.
“I won’t.” Mrs. Cavanaugh made her way back through the stacks and Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief. Only fifteen minutes left until the library closed. She gave it an extra five before she got up and slipped through the door, just in case Mrs. Cavanaugh returned to check on her. Jennifer busied herself with setting everything up on the roof.
She unscrewed the cap on her hot cocoa and sipped it as she sat, gazing at the sky, waiting for her dragon to drop down out of it. She searched the sky ceaselessly, wondering if something had happened that was keeping him away. Then she stared forlornly at the locked door, wanting to retreat back to her dorm, tail between her legs in defeat. An hour later, she crawled into her sleeping bag and cried herself to sleep. She gave up her comfort and time to be there that night, after realizing that Crylaine and his brothers were a cause worth fighting for. Standing by his side and offering her support, just as Claire did with Drake, was far more important than any cause she could think of. But, apparently, she was not important enough to come back for.
Jennifer wasn’t sure when she drifted off to sleep. She lay shivering in her sleeping bag, waiting for dawn to come so she could escape, and never come back to this place. It was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to be safe, and yet here she was, all alone.
She wrapped herself around him when he scooped her up, and instantly knew she had been wrong…so wrong. He was there, haggard looking and tired, but he was there.
“You came! I thought maybe you decided; maybe you chose…” she did not even need to finish her sentence. She knew it was not the truth. He loved her, he told her so in the next instant, and she knew she loved him just as fiercely.
“I love you too, Crylaine. And I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I put us through this. I thought we needed it. I was wrong. We are stronger together, and I’m so sorry.”
“No more apologies, we know where we stand,” he whispered. He was stroking the tears from her cheeks and ripped the sleeping bag down the seam at the zipper to pull her into his arms. It was predawn, when the sky was a midnight blue. Somewhere on the horizon, out over the bay, the sun was beginning to wink and wake up. Jennifer cupped his strong jaw in her palms and kissed him through her tears.
“I chose you, Crylaine. You’re the cause worth fighting for. I chose you.” He nodded and kissed her back. She finally let go, letting him lay her back against the sleeping bag. Crylaine raised one of her legs so her knee fell to the side. She hadn’t bothered with underwear, preferring not to have the hampering effects of an excess of material when they finally did what she had been hoping they would do. She couldn’t stand the teasing and denial anymore, though. “Crylaine, please, now!” she shouted, and he didn’t need any more prompting. He pushed into her already damp flesh, and cupped her face in his palms, kissing her softly on her nose and lips and cheeks. She tried not to cry, but it was all so sweet as he rocked gently back and forth on top of her. He tried to say something at one point, but all that came out was a guttural moan. “I love you too,” she answered. He scooped her into his arms and sat her up, leaving them joined below the waist. She could feel him press up into her, and he didn’t need to thrust hard and fast for both of them to sense the urgency. She could feel the pitter-patter of their heartbeats through her t-shirt, and she listened as it synced up and beat as one. She smiled as he kissed her.
Jennifer worried about the black and blue spots on his torso. She tried to be careful and not press against them, but he didn’t seem to mind that she was there. When she was about to fall over the edge, he pulled back from kissing her and whispered, “Look at me.” She forced her eyes open as she tipped over the edge and convulsed around him. Her eyes widened as she watched the flames of the emeralds ignite, and he followed her into bliss. Jennifer felt invisible cords bind them together somehow. She wondered if this was what he meant by finding a mate. She knew the lore, a dragon only died if its heart was decimated. Somehow, if t
hat fateful day ever came for him, she knew she would perish along with him. But she smiled thinking about all the time they still had together. She was going to be there at the end of the night when he returned from patrolling, and he was going to hold her hand as they marched down the street shouting for social justice. There were so many family dinners to bring him to.
As she closed her eyes and shivered and rocked with her dragon, she knew that there were far greater treasures than money or social status, love and family being the top of them. When she thought about the two of them starting their own family, she was reminded of the Internet meme about what she would do if she owned a baby dragon. They would sit on her shoulder, breathing fire, and gossiping about all the people she didn’t like. Only, she would teach her baby dragon to compliment all the people she met on a day-to-day basis, too. Jennifer started to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” he murmured into her hair.
“I was thinking about a meme,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Internet jokes. I was thinking about the one where people would let a baby dragon ride on their shoulder and talk about all the people they don’t like, and it would breath fire at them.”
Crylaine thought for a moment and wrinkled his nose. “That’s a misconception. Baby dragons don’t typically shift for the first time until they are between sixteen and twenty.”
“So, they aren’t babies then?” she asked.
“Well, technically they are. By our standards.”
“I suppose they could do the talk smack about people then, but not sit on my shoulder.”
“No. If you ever need someone to talk trash with, if it has to be a baby, Scryos will help you out,” Laine reasoned.
“Yeah, but isn’t he like thirty something?”
“Well yes, he’s one hundred and thirty-two.”
“How does that make him a baby, then?” she asked, shocked.
“I said babies shift for the first time between sixteen and twenty, but they remain infantile well over a couple centuries.”
“Huh. Interesting.”
“His birthday is coming up too,” Laine told her.
“Oh, what makes you think of that?”
“Because it took me almost an hour to break into his damn phone. His password ended up being his birthday,” Laine explained.
“I will teach you how to use a phone if you like,” she said. He groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder. She patted his hair.
“Alright, but only if you make the dragon meme my screen to unlock the phone.”
“Deal,” she stuck out her hand. He laughed, but still shook it. “You do know there are other dragon memes. That isn’t the only one.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“There is one that says, ‘never challenge a dragon, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup’.”
“I don’t know about ketchup, but you certainly taste good. With that, he dove down between her thighs and she shrieked and laughed. His eyes danced with flames as she gazed down between her thighs. “I want one other thing from you, too.”
“What?”
“I want you to find a lip gloss that tastes like chocolate and raspberries,” he said.
“That’s a very strange request, why?”
“Because every time I get you going and you blush, it’s what you remind me of. I want to kiss you when I annoy you and have you taste like raspberries and chocolate.”
Jennifer was about to argue with him, but then his tongue flickered out, finding the small berry hidden in her wet folds. Her head fell back against the sleeping bag as she moaned. He showed her exactly how he would kiss her with her new lip-gloss and she shuddered through a second orgasm that morning when his lips encircled her clit and he latched on, refusing to let go until she was bucking underneath him. He crawled up her torso once more like the great beast he was and entered her, claiming what was his.
Sometime later, they collected her things and he shifted. He darted off the library roof quickly, so he was mere shadow to the humans below. When he turned his long neck to the side and asked her where she wanted to go, she smiled and leaned over to whisper, “take me home.” He turned towards Central Park, and a brownstone house nestled behind a wrought iron fence. Family and friends would be waiting to greet them with open arms and open hearts. Jennifer felt like they couldn’t get their fast enough, even though she was on the back of a dragon. Her dragon.
*****
THE END
Scryos’ Passion
Chapter 1
Belle walked into the bar, sat down on a stool, and immediately wished she hadn’t bothered. She was used to receiving unwanted attention on a daily basis, but she wished she could spend a night out and blend into the background for once. She knew she was different. The problem was, she didn’t know why.
Belle stared at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar, and saw two men arguing with one another about who was going to approach her first. Belle stared into her own dark eyes that appeared to be lit from within, and she looked over her flawless skin. It annoyed her. No matter how many times she banged herself up, klutz as she was, she always healed perfectly within a day. It was as if nothing had ever happened. She never had a pimple, never needed braces. She found herself wishing for a split end in her hair; but her caramel locks were the envy of most every salon stylist, beauty product peddler, and female that she had never met.
Belle hated her supposed “perfection”. She despised the attention so much that she tried to ugly herself up with baggy clothes and baseball caps. But there must have been something else that was alluring about her, because men and women continued to approach her despite her best efforts.
Belle slouched miserably as the two men sat on either side of her and started introducing themselves. She hadn’t even ordered a drink yet.
Belle watched the bartender make his way towards them as she had to field questions like, “what’s your name, sugar?”
“And spice,” she said.
“Huh?” the brunette man asked.
“It’s the stuff little girls are made of,” she replied flatly.
“I’m sure your sweet and sassy in the sack, honey. But we asked your name, not what you’ve got going on in the bedroom.”
“First off, honey is another type of sugar. Second, I never said anything about hopping in the sack with either one of you, so you’re being pretty presumptuous.” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Why did men have to be like this? All she wanted was a drink after a long shift at the ticket booth; Belle was a ticket vendor for Broadway shows. She spent hours dressed in a hot uniform that resembled a cross between a bellhop and an old-timey train operator. She needed the job for rent, and the pay was consistent. Belle was an orphan. She grew up in the system, and when she was finally eighteen, the home hadn’t cared where she went.
Belle often changed in the public restroom of a Starbucks that was across the street in Times Square because it was easier than being followed by men to her apartment or dive bars like this, but she really wanted a drink today. She usually didn’t have to buy her own drinks, but she felt like taking care of herself and she didn’t want to feel crowded by anyone.
“Oh, come on now. Why else would a pretty lady like yourself be slouched over a bar, pretending to be all down and looking for attention?”
“Maybe because I am down, depressed, and desperate to be drunk and alone.”
“Come off it!” the muscular blond said. Belle sighed, sitting up for the first time to look at them properly. He was so jacked on steroids, she could practically smell the chemicals oozing from his pores. The brunette was not half bad looking, except for the stench of cigarette smoke that clung to his hair, skin, and clothes. It made her stomach churn.
“I mean it. I want to be left alone.” She attempted the firm no, something that worked on about three quarters of the men she talked to. At least there was some human decency left in the world. Belle watched as they loo
ked at each other over her head, and she prepared for harassment. They just shrugged.
“Whatever.”
“Enjoy your time with yourself, you stuck up-”
“Why does everyone assume because a woman says no it’s because she’s stuck up?” The guys looked at her for a moment, then turned around and walked away. She overheard them griping about it, but she turned her attention back to the bar and waited for the bartender. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes. His dark skin was similar to hers, and seemed to glow under the lights of the bar. She wondered if they had similar heritage. Not that she knew her genetic makeup, being an orphan. But she often fantasized that she would meet someone who happened to be a long lost relative, brought together by fate and circumstance.
Belle felt the flutter in her stomach as he turned his attention to her and smiled. It was so wide it split his face, which Belle found endearing. It made her feel like she was the single most important person in the room. She wanted to feel special to someone based on something other than her looks.
She wondered about the sincerity of the smile, but he opened his mouth and asked, “sorry about the hold up, what can I get you?”
“Long island iced tea, please.” It was the first time she ever felt shy in front of a man. His voice was so friendly, upbeat, and truly genuine.