by Kayla Wolf
Not when she was the property.
Jessica drifted off into a sleep that was far from restful—less a sleep, really, more a fugue state. She’d never felt so hopeless, so absolutely obliterated by depression. She supposed, dully, as she swam in and out of consciousness, that she should be enjoying this—it was her last day of not being Thomas’s wife, after all. But that was cold comfort. How on earth was she supposed to continue to live? The only bright spot on an otherwise miserable landscape was that at least Angela was safe—or if not safe, at least not being forced to marry Thomas in Jessica’s place. But she didn’t even know that for certain. Perhaps if she was a good little wolf and played along with the wedding, they’d let her see her sister again. She could ask for Angela to be the maid of honor. Tears welled up in her eyes. They’d always talked about being the maid of honor at each other’s weddings, bickered about who was going to get married first, joked about the most repellent husbands they could imagine for each other. Surely her father wouldn’t be so cruel as to never let her see her sister again.
She woke up when the light was gone from the sky, but without her phone, she had no idea what time it was. Late, certainly—she couldn’t hear anyone moving around the house, which meant that her parents had gone to bed. Usually, she’d have been able to pick up the dull sound of Angela’s music, but if Angela was still in her bedroom, she was either asleep or silent. Jessica rose to her feet and padded over to the window to peer out into the night sky, emblazoned with stars. Despite her sadness, a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. No matter what they did to her, she’d always have the sky to look at. Thomas couldn’t take the stars away from her.
Was there still a guard? She scanned the yard—sure enough, there stood her one-time high school crush, leaning against the garden fence with a bored expression on his face. Fair enough, too. It couldn’t have been a very interesting job. She hated him, a little, for doing it—but it was nothing personal. Could she take him in a fight, she wondered? It was possible. But even if she could, what would be the point? They still had Angela. They could still harm her baby sister if she put a foot out of place. And she was tired, weakened still by the residual effects of the silver. She wouldn’t stand a chance against that wolf down there—nor would she be fast enough to escape the pack if they hunted her. And it had been made abundantly clear that any further attempts at escape would result in a blood hunt.
A chilling word, that one. Not often thrown around, and it had permeated even the stupor she’d been in at the tribunal that morning. A blood hunt meant that every wolf in the village was mobilized for the express purpose of ending a specific life. It was usually reserved for the worst criminals—murderers, rapists, those who intentionally harmed children. But it was held over her, as a threat—to keep her in line, keep her compliant. She imagined running through the mountains, hearing the baying of her whole pack behind her as they pursued her, thirsty for blood.
She was stirred from these reflections by the sound of a breaking branch. Another wolf, come to join his friend to keep an eye on her? She frowned, not recognizing the man from this distance—and then gasped as he swung his fist directly into her guard’s face, knocking him out cold. The man turned around, scanning the side of the building as if looking for something, and she stared at him, hardly believing her eyes. Was she still asleep, and dreaming? That frame—that mane of dark, curly hair—those eyes, gleaming gold in the darkness, even from this distance. It was unmistakable.
“Samuel!” she hissed, leaning out of the window. Then he saw her—and the grin that spread across his face felt like it filled her chest with warm sunlight. “What are you doing here?”
“I was worried about you! I saw you in chains—I’ve come to get you out of here.”
“How did you find me?” She was absolutely giddy—but his voice was too loud. She knew how sharp her father’s sense of hearing was. “You have to go—the pack’s going to find you, I can’t—” She whipped her head around, hearing the tell-tale creak of footsteps on the staircase. “Samuel, they have my sister—I can’t just leave—”
The door burst open, and she flinched. But it wasn’t her father. It was her mother, gazing at her without fear, without anger.
“Jessica?”
She looked out of the window again—but Samuel wasn’t there anymore. Instead—and her breath caught in her throat—there was an enormous, serpentine dragon, just like the one she’d seen in the memories of war. Its head was crested with a dozen horns like the one she’d held in her hands, and it extended its elegant neck, its huge head rising to the level of her second-story window with ease. She gazed into its eyes—golden, the color of honey, the color of sunlight—and extended a trembling hand that just lightly brushed the iridescent scales on its cheek.
Come with me. Now.
Jessica’s mother was at her side. Both wolves stared at their ancient enemy—and to Jessica’s surprise, there was no fear in her mother’s stance. Nor was she calling for help. She felt the woman’s hand slip into hers, just quickly, and squeeze it gently, just once, the way she’d done when Jessica was tiny.
“I’ll say you were taken against your will,” Jessica’s mother said, her voice an almost inaudible whisper. “They won’t hurt Angela. Go.”
“It’ll be war—”
“Go.” Her mother stepped back, her hand slipping away—and then she let out a bloodcurdling scream. Before she could think any more about it, Jessica jumped through the window—and found herself caught in the dragon’s talons, surprisingly gentle. Her father burst through the door of her room, but she only caught the briefest glimpse of his wild, staring eyes before there was a tremendous lurching. She looked up to see Samuel’s wings, shining almost translucent in the starlight, beating hard and bearing them up, up, above the roof of the house, above the town, into the sky … and away.
For the second time in so many days, she was an escapee.
Chapter 12 – Samuel
He could hardly believe he was actually holding her. True, he was clutching her rather awkwardly in his talons while flying as fast as he could away from a pack of probably very angry wolves, and he couldn’t see her or hear her or talk to her at all, and the only confirmation he had that she was even happy to see him was the fact that she’d leapt out of the window into his talons, but still—he had her! He was closer to her than he’d been in days—and more to the point, he knew for sure she was safe. He was so glad he’d trusted his gut instinct about something being wrong. The meeting he’d seen that morning—Jessica being dragged into the town square and lectured on a platform by what seemed like the entire population of the town—was more than enough to assure him that he’d done the right thing by coming to get her. He’d been seconds away from jumping down from the scaffolding and fighting the whole pack then and there, but he’d managed to restrain himself when he realized they didn’t intend to hurt Jessica. Not yet, anyway. It had been a much wiser move to wait until nightfall and rescue her from her house.
He was heavily out of breath by the time they came upon the valley where the dragons made their home. It occurred to him, briefly, that his brother would probably have something to say about him bringing a wolf to the valley by air—what was to stop her memorizing the route and bringing her whole pack back to attack them? Their best defense was their secrecy. Try as they might have, the wolves had never quite found out where the dragons made their home. But he hardly felt like Jessica really counted as a wolf any more—not a hostile one, at any rate.
He landed on the same ledge he’d left from the night before, breathing hard. He’d kept in touch with Lisa all day—she’d known he was hiding out in the wolf village, keeping a low profile. It was easy enough to hide. The wolves didn’t seem to be out and about much—perhaps they were all preparing for the wedding that had been planned for the day after. Thankfully, his initial fear—that Jessica was being dragged to the village square to be married to Thomas then and there—had been unfounded. They’d wanted
to punish her in front of the whole village first. He knew werewolves were weak to silver—the war between their species had involved a great deal of it for that reason. To see them using it on one another was horrifying. He hoped Jessica was okay.
He put her down gently on the rock, letting her steady herself against his forelegs before he transformed. She was shivering a little in the freezing night air, and he realized belatedly that she was only wearing a thin layer of clothing. Dismayed, he moved to put his arms around her—but she flinched, and he backed off, warned by her wide eyes and the watchful way she was staring around her.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He’d been as careful as he could with his talons, but he knew how sharp they were—dragons had been using their claws to hollow out stone caverns for thousands of years, they could do a lot of damage to flesh.
“No, I’m alright,” she said, looking up at him with a combination of shock and wonder. “You—came to save me.”
“I’m sorry if that’s—invasive. I just got a bad feeling when I couldn’t contact you the other day, and I checked where you were using your phone, and I saw you were headed back to your village. I knew you didn’t want to so I figured something had happened and—”
“Samuel—” she cut him off, raising a hand, her eyes fixed on his. “You hardly know me.”
He looked at her. How was he supposed to explain how he felt about her? She was right, she was absolutely right—they’d known each other only a couple of days, hardly talked, hardly gotten to know each other—how could he explain that he’d fallen for her, that he suspected that she was his destined soulmate? Because whatever he thought, it didn’t matter if she didn’t feel the same way—and now was hardly the time to talk about that, was it? Not with so many worries on her mind—the safety of her little sister, the actions of her family, her pack, her whole hometown turning against her—
“I can’t believe you came to help me,” she murmured, and then suddenly she was in his arms and kissing him and Samuel gave up trying to figure out what was going on, so absolutely overcome with joy he was at the simple sensation of her arms around his neck and her lips against his.
He claimed her mouth and felt a growling in his throat. All he wanted to do was to explore every inch of her, every spot of bare skin he could find. He kissed her like his gut was on fire, and she kissed him back. His hands roamed her body, felt the way goosebumps made their way to her skin wherever he touched her.
His hands were on her ass, gripping her buttocks with both of his hands, and he pushed her closer against him. He wanted to feel all of her, claim all of her, and never let her go. His tongue explored her mouth, then he trailed kisses down her chest. But he knew that this wasn’t the time to go further. She must be shocked from everything that happened. So he held her close and kissed her again and again until he could feel her breathing evening out, becoming calmer. They stood there, in each other’s embrace and he didn’t want to think about anything but the happiness he felt spreading through his body at having her here, in his arms.
Later—much later—he felt her pull away a little, and he opened his eyes, dizzy and happy. She was still close, standing in his arms, and he tucked her a little closer still, wanting to warm her body against the cold night air. She was taller than Lisa—but much shorter than the average dragon, and he smiled at the way she could tuck her head under his chin.
“I have to go back home,” she mumbled into his chest, and some of the joy in his chest faded away.
“But—they’ll hurt you. They want you to marry that—was that the Alpha on the stand, the huge wolf?”
She squinted up at him. “So you saw that.”
“Yeah, I was in the church.”
“That was him. Did you hear the tribunal? He wants to marry me tomorrow. That’s the only reason they forgave me.”
“But now you’ve been kidnapped by a dragon, right? So he’ll have to give up.”
“Are you kidding? Samuel—he’s not going to give up. This will be a war between our people, you know that, right? And besides—they have my sister. As long as Angela’s there, I can’t just—leave. I know that now. It was insanely selfish of me to run away in the first place. Even if—it was good. Even if I learned a lot, about … myself, about my home, about some stuff I’ve never questioned before.” She hesitated. “Even if it meant—meeting you. It was wrong to just run away and leave her there. I promised I’d always take care of her.”
“Your sister.” Samuel was quiet for a moment, thinking of Helena. Would he leave her behind, if he managed to escape some terrible imprisonment? Not for a minute, no. “We’ll go back for her.”
“What? No—this is my fight.”
“I’m the one who kidnapped you, aren’t I? At least let me be the one who fixes it.” He took a deep breath. “Jessica—I know we’ve only just met, and it’s probably—very weird, for you. But I—whatever it means, I really care about you. I’ve been fascinated by you since the minute we met. I think you’re—wonderful. And I hope you feel something like that for me, too.”
“I do,” she admitted, and the smile on her face made him feel like he was flying. “I—meeting you, it changed something in me. Showed me I didn’t have to treat everyone not from home like an enemy. It’s hard to explain how—rigid everyone from Fallhurst is, how set in tradition and rules they are.”
Samuel laughed softly. She could have been talking about dragons. “I promise you, I understand that. Too well.”
“But meeting you showed me that they were wrong about dragons—at least one dragon. It was the first time I’d ever thought that my pack could be wrong about anything. And once I realized that—it was like waking up from a bad dream.”
“And we can’t leave Angela trapped there,” Samuel said firmly. “So we’ll go back for her, okay? We’ll go back, we’ll find her, and I’ll fly you both back here, and we’ll figure out what to do next.”
“Samuel—it could be dangerous. The pack will be on high alert. You have no idea how much we—how much they hate dragons. I’ve seen—I’ve got memories of the war.”
Samuel went still. He knew wolves had a variant of the kind of telepathy used by dragons to communicate, but he had no idea that they could share memories. Fascinating. And chilling, if it meant that first-hand memories of the war could be passed down. Dragons had long lives, but it seemed that wolves had even longer memories—collective memories, shared among members the same way they shared thoughts in battle. Frightening.
“I don’t want to see you torn apart,” she said softly.
“I won’t be,” he said, squeezing her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “Okay? I won’t. I’ll be careful, and quick, and clever. They’ll hardly know I was there. Then you and Angela will be up here, and—well, we’ll see what happens then. I’ll talk to my brother. I mentioned that he’s married to a human, right? He can hardly complain about me bringing home a couple of wolves.”
Jessica giggled, a surprising sound in the quiet night air, and he felt a grin spread across his face. He hadn’t heard her laugh much. It was definitely something he wanted to hear more of. “You make us sound like pets.”
“But before we go—let’s get some sleep. You must be exhausted.”
She nodded, tightening her arms around him in an unexpected hug. “Okay. We should have time. The war council won’t meet until morning, and hopefully, Mom was able to convince them that I was kidnapped, so Angela should be okay for a little while at least.”
“C’mon, then. There are plenty of spare rooms in the palace.” He hesitated. “You’re welcome to share my bed, of course—or there’s plenty of spares to choose from, I could grab some extra blankets from—“
“Your bed.”
He grinned. “If you insist.”
It felt so strange, moving through the winding corridors and twisting paths of his ancestral home with Jessica at his side, her hand in his. He had to fight the temptation to talk, to tell her all about the histories of each ro
om, the age of the stone, the dragons who had carved out each space—because it was late, and he was very much harboring a fugitive, and if anyone came upon them there would be an enormous amount of explaining to be done.
But he couldn’t fight the feeling of absolute happiness that was suffusing his entire body. It only got stronger when they reached his quarters and Jessica peered around his room, clearly curious about the various books and knick-knacks he kept. She stopped at a wood carving he’d had for a long time—a wolf, standing proudly on a rocky outcrop, its thick fur carved with expert care and its eyes, real stones, set deep in its face. She looked back at him.
“I found that one day in the depths of the caves,” he explained.
“It’s beautiful.”
“That’s why I kept it.”
“Strange, isn’t it? For a dragon to make a piece of art like this? We’re enemies, aren’t we?”
“History is written by the victors,” Samuel said. “Who knows how many stories there are like ours, lost to time?”
She smiled—then yawned. He turned back the covers of his bed, pleased that it was neatly made and the bedding freshly cleaned—most dragons slept in their dragon form, finding it more comfortable, but he’d always had a fondness for sleeping under a huge pile of blankets. She padded over to join him, kicking off the shoes she was wearing and leaving them askew by the bed.
“Oh, so you’re messy?” he enquired, mock-serious.
She snorted, climbing into his bed and wiggling over, so there was room for him to join her. “You sound like Angela.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.” He joined her in the bed and suppressed a huge smile as she automatically moved into his arms, the warmth of her body pressing against his. Several ideas sprang into his mind, fully formed—ideas that had a lot to do with the night they’d spent together in the cave, but more inventive ideas, ideas that would build on what he’d learned about her there and take them a little bit further…