Lydia and the Draca

by Louisa Kelley

  “Do you not see? Do you not feel this? You are awakening the great potential of your blood. There is no other human woman alive who could…arouse such feelings in one of my kind.”

  Nareen reached out and smoothed down the back of Lydia’s tangled hair. “Please, give me a little more time,” she murmured, her voice husky. “There are things I must prepare now. Let go of your fears and rest, my most special one.”

  “Wait! I need to understand what’s going on… Don’t leave me here!”

  “Be patient for a while longer. I will send you human refreshments.”

  Nareen vanished in a trail of smoke, and for a second, Lydia could have sworn she saw fierce, hooded eyes and outstretched, golden wings.

  Fearful memories tugged at her again, and she looked wildly around the room. Lingering smoke spun in Nareen’s wake, creating a haze that shadowed the glowing walls and permeated everything with the smell of smoke.

  Lydia found herself surrounded again by gleaming blackness. She had a feeling she had passed some kind of test. A test that still had her overstimulated nerves throbbing as she wondered what could possibly be next.

  Chapter Three

  A wooden cart immediately appeared in front of the couch, fully loaded with covered dishes and bowls, and a tall pitcher of cool water. Delicious smells wafted up, and she realized she was famished. She lifted up a few plate covers. Mmm… Pasta primavera! And green salad. And chocolate cake!

  She poured herself a drink, which spilled from her trembling hand. “Wow. I am so not in Kansas anymore.”

  She piled up food on a blue glass plate and sank with a sigh into the couch. Good. This, at least, was good. Apparently captivity in this mind-blowing place didn’t mean starving to death in the process.

  And wow—how about Nareen? What an incredible woman—or what was she exactly? An alien? Lydia hadn’t even tried to pull away when she’d kissed her.

  She tried to piece together what she remembered from the first time she was here, combined with what she was experiencing now. Something about the creatures and having babies. And flying dragons and blood. Her memory jolted—blood? A shiver of fright swept up her spine. Screw this, she thought abruptly, trying to shake off the weird feelings. She needed to figure out how to get home again.

  First things first. She really needed to find a bathroom. She had to use the facilities, if they existed here, something fierce.

  Maybe there would be a place farther down the dark corridor. Finished eating, she headed down the corridor in what she hoped was the right direction. The yellow circle of light followed as she walked, giving just enough light to see her way.

  After a few minutes of shuffling half blindly down the hall, a door opened in front of her, and soft pale light spilled out into the hallway, accompanied by billows of steam. She peeked inside and found, to her surprised delight, a huge sunken tub on one side of a modern bathroom, along with a double sink, marble vanity, and gleaming toilet. Water was running in the tub, and soap bubbles glistened on the surface. Something told her this bath was meant for her.

  She used the facilities, and then, deciding to just go with it—why the hell not, at this point—she dropped her sweaty pajamas on the marble floor and sank with a blissful sigh into the warm bath full of scented oils. Nareen must have had something to do with this. She imagined Nareen soaking in the tub with her, her golden skin covered in soap bubbles, and sighed again. Confused by the aroused sensuality of her feelings, she sank farther into the steamy water.

  Closing her eyes and leaning back against the side, she lowered herself until her chin bobbed on the surface. Improbable images of dragons did a free fall behind her eyes. Immense creatures filled the sky, blazing gold and crimson, flashing sharp fangs and talons, with wingspreads twenty feet across. Her breath caught. The images burst, then fell in lacy patterns of diamond-bright light, morphing into humans. Beautiful humans. Beautiful humans like Nareen.

  Lydia sat bolt upright in the tub. Draca. They were called Draca. And Nareen was one of them. She choked on a little remnant of chocolate cake.

  And Nareen wanted her. She wanted her in particular.

  Apparently, they all did.

  *

  Her pajamas had vanished, and clean ones were left next to the tub. How they’d gotten there, or who brought them in, Lydia had no idea. It was a mystery, just like everything else. She picked up a long, sleeveless dress that shimmered in the dim light. Thin and slinky, of some material she couldn’t place, it glowed in the same green and garnet colors as Nareen’s gown. She smiled in approval. All her favorite colors. And no underwear, no bra.

  She slipped it on, sighing at the soft feel of the material sliding down her damp body. She looked in the mirror over the sink and didn’t recognize herself. The neckline dipped in a low vee over her breasts, showcasing what little she had there. Her eyes seemed huge and a little wild, her hair a mass of tangled auburn curls. She looked—well, what with the dress and all—she looked almost beautiful.

  She sighed again. What a dream she was having. She had never thought of herself as beautiful; she’d always been more of the tomboy type who cared little for makeup or girlie things. Her closet held little beyond T-shirts, jeans, and workout clothes.

  She smiled at her image in the mirror. She was way, way outside her comfort zone. For the first time in her life, the situation was completely out of her control. Yet the path forward seemed irresistible. For once, she was forced to just go with the flow. Her heart skipped in anticipation. Clearly, much remained to be discovered.

  She wandered out into the hall and found it blazing with light. Wall sconces she hadn’t noticed before lined each side as far as her eyes could see, the end of the hall disappearing. Sounds drifted from somewhere—voices deep and lyrical, talking in a language she didn’t recognize. Sometimes they broke into laughter, amid the clink of glassware, as if they were having a party. She kept walking until she reached the area where most of the noise seemed to be coming from, and peeked around the edge of a slightly open door.

  “There you are!” a masculine voice called out.

  Lydia shrank back and turned to run, but no, too late.

  “Come in, please. We have been expecting you.”

  Reluctantly she edged into the room, and her senses swam at the scene in front of her. The room spanned a width as big as her entire apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows behind drapes of heavy crimson brocade taking up most of the far wall. A blue-tiled hearth in front of an enormous bricked fireplace took up the wall on the far right. A lively fire burned, and the now-familiar smell of wood smoke tinged the air.

  Someone handed her an amber drink in a tall crystal glass. She sipped it and felt a bolt of warmth shoot through her middle. She took another sip, and as the warmth spread through her body, she gathered her courage and looked at the others in the room.

  Nareen stood on the far side, smiling in what seemed like encouragement. As for the rest of the crowd, never had she seen such glorious creatures, matching, if not exceeding, Nareen’s exotic beauty. Three men and three women stood around her, each one over six feet of graceful, dignified bearing. Identical slanted green eyes glinted at her in rapt attention. Long hair in various shades of mixed red, copper, orange, gold, and bronze cascaded down their backs, some almost to the floor, men and women both.

  Gowns flowed like silky water over generous female curves, falling in ruby red and emerald folds to matching heels. High cheekbones graced exotic faces.

  The men shone with the same primal beauty as the women. They wore tunics of dark red over wide, muscular chests and leather belts set with large red stones. Black boots rose knee-high over slim black trousers.

  They all, without exception, stared at Lydia in blatant curiosity—tinged with something else. Something that sent chills up her back.

  Nareen walked over to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Please, everyone, allow me to once again introduce you to Lydia Neal.”

  As one, they
collectively bowed to her.

  “Do I—Have we met before?” she said, proud her voice only trembled a little.

  The tallest male stepped forward. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. He raised emerald green eyes that smoldered as they met her own. “I would know your scent anywhere,” he said, not letting go of her hand.

  Lydia’s breath caught. There was something vaguely familiar about him, just on the edge of her awareness. His sculptured jaw was shadowed with a layer of reddish beard that hadn’t seen a razor in days. His glittering eyes, so like Nareen’s, stared into her own with a hypnotic power she sensed from all of them.

  Lydia yanked her hand back. “I don’t… I’m not sure I remember you.”

  “This is my brother Aedhan,” Nareen said, shooting a warning look at him. “You met before, in the old caves.”

  At the mention of the caves, Lydia’s memories opened up again. The caves. That was where she had been last time. Where she had first met them. In their other form, as Draca.

  More memories she had been resisting and denying rushed in. They had shown themselves to her before, and she had completely freaked out.

  She had been in that same dark cave, and she had screamed and screamed and remembered no more until she woke up in her bed, covered in sweat, convinced she’d had the worst nightmare of her life.

  She stared in renewed agitation at the shining creatures in front of her now. She took another sip of her drink for courage and tried to breathe. She didn’t remember all these beautiful people. No, this was not what they showed her before.

  Maybe she should try not freaking out this time.

  As if they felt her increased awareness, protective shadows lifted from their forms, and the innate wildness and fierceness of their ancient race shimmered in response to her trembling attention. Fear warred with helpless fascination. Lydia couldn’t have run if she had tried.

  She noticed for the first time a motionless Draca male sitting in the shadows across the room. It was as if she’d grabbed a pair of binoculars; her sight laser-focused on him, and his form lit up to her with some hidden source of light.

  His hair, so dusky purple it was almost black, lay thick and unbound on wide, broad shoulders. Smoke and utter raw masculinity emanated from him in almost visible waves, inflaming her already acute senses. She had the sudden urge to run her hands through the long strands, to press her face to its shining length and inhale this smoky, musky scent. Her nipples tightened in helpless, aroused response.

  Of course he noticed her staring at him. With a sardonic half smile, he lifted his glass up in salute. He didn’t stand to meet her like the others, but she felt, as much saw, his hooded green eyes blazing at her with such mysterious intensity, her legs almost gave out.

  Sex. Why did it all seem to be about sex?

  She shook her head in an attempt to clear the fogginess. Maybe that drink was getting to her. She tried to think. Sex was involved because someone needed saving. How was she supposed to accomplish that with sex?

  She turned in confusion to Nareen. So much seemed to be going on beneath the surface. She had a definite sense that these creatures—these shape-shifters—were all communicating wordlessly. About her. And so far, actual explanations about the true reason for her being here had been limited or nonexistent.

  She gulped as seven pairs of eyes watched her every move with growing predators’ sharpness. Rapt attention had turned to hunger. Lust filled the room as surely as smoke.

  Nareen’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Do not let them bother you,” she whispered. “It has been so many years since one of us could…mate in…passion to create a young one.”

  Ah, that was it. Everything was about sex. Her awakened feelings of sensuality, her tingling nerves and pounding heart, made her fair game for these muscular, gleaming specimens of smoking hotness, all of whom were staring her into a melting puddle of hormones.

  She felt light-headed, and the room started spinning, making it hard to breathe.

  Nareen said something sharp to the assembled group and quickly steered her out of the room. “That is enough for today. We have tired you out, I fear.”

  Her arm was firm on Lydia’s shoulder as she directed her down the long hall, now brilliantly lit. Before her brain turned to complete mush, Lydia realized no one had really answered any questions. Maybe they didn’t want her to freak out again, so they were giving it to her in pieces. But she couldn’t speak, couldn’t question anymore. Total sensory overload gripped her; she barely noticed where they were going as she struggled to keep pace with Nareen. The only thing keeping her upright was the hot grip on her shoulder.

  They stopped at one of the doors.

  “This is your room, my dear. Please, sleep and rest. Someone will be here in the morning to see to your needs. You are perfectly safe here. No one will disturb you, I promise.”

  Nareen gestured at the room, her eyebrows lifted as if to say, See—nothing to be afraid of, and then, after a quick kiss to Lydia’s forehead, shut the door behind her with a firm click.

  Lydia gazed at the stone-walled room. Most of it was taken up by an enormous bed. Dark purple and black bedcovers draped in lavish thickness, generous matching pillows piled at one end. It enticed her beyond belief. She ignored the rest of the room, noticing only a brick fireplace with an active fire and large wooden chests.

  Lydia wobbled to the main target and crawled up the middle, sinking in enough to be perfectly comfortable. She sat with her knees drawn up, her cheek cradled against her arms. She couldn’t unwind completely. Not yet. She squeezed her eyes shut and blew her breath in and out in deep gulps. Reaching for her meditation, she tried a few tentative oms. They came out in little squeaks, tinny and strange.

  Tired. So tired. Giving in, she stretched on her back, moaning at the softness.

  Nothing felt safe or familiar here. She squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing made sense. But it would, she’d make sure of it.

  Chapter Four

  Lydia woke with her head pounding. What the hell did she have to drink last night? She only remembered taking a few sips.

  She looked around, and her heart sank. Damn. Waking had not taken her back to her real life. She was still here, in an enormous bed at the ends of the earth. There were no signs of modern telecommunications anywhere. No landlines, computers, televisions, or electrical appliances of any kind—she was beyond the reach of cell phones for sure. All the rules of her reality had changed, and her usual burning need for control was completely thwarted. No control here. Over anything.

  Heart suddenly hammering, she realized she was naked and started looking around for clothes. Hugging her arms for warmth in the chilly air, she drew closer to the fireplace that took up most of one wall. The fire barely sputtered, giving little warmth. There were no sounds coming from outside the room, and with no windows, everything still felt vaguely underground and cavelike.

  Shivering from more than the cold and feeling a little creeped out, she pulled on her Draca gown, which she found hanging neatly in the closet. She went for the door and turned the stiff brass knob. For a hysterical second, she wondered if maybe they’d locked her in, and rattled it hard in sudden panic. The door burst open, and she leaned out just enough to see in each direction.

  “Forget it, sweetiekins,” said a tiny but confident voice. “You will never find your way out in that direction.”

  Lydia jumped back. “What the…”

  “Over here,” the voice said drolly, sounding like it was coming from the floor. “If you don’t see me pretty soon, I’ll be decorating the bottom of your shoe.”

  She looked down. He had to be no more than three feet high, but his stance was as proud as if he were the six feet plus of his Draca kin. Bristle cones of cherry red hair stuck out in all directions, and the now-familiar emerald eyes sparkled with humor. He looked very young and very ancient all at once. He grinned up at her, and she couldn’t help it. She grinned bac
k.

  “Well, ah, hello,” Lydia said. “I’m sorry—I wasn’t trying to step on you.”

  “Quite all right. No harm done. I am very pleased to meet you. In fact, I feel I know you already.” He held up a tiny hand. “My human name is Camus.”

  Bemused, Lydia reached down and gently clasped his hot little hand, noticing how unusually warm he felt. She met his eyes and saw the same aroused interest his taller kin had shown toward her. Although this one seemed less…predatory…than the rest. Something in her stomach relaxed a little as she straightened and dropped his hand.

  “Listen—Camus. Can you answer some questions for me? I’m only getting bits and pieces here, and I need—I really need—some explanations.”

  Camus winced as her voice rose. “Yes, yes, of course. Come for a walk with me, and you may ask away.”

  He indicated the direction with a sweep of his arm and led her into another long hall she didn’t recognize. It was narrower and darker than the one the previous night, and she could just see the top of Camus’s fuzzy head bobbing at her side as they walked.

  She had no memories of small creatures from the time before; her memories were dominated by visions of breathtaking winged monsters that morphed into people. Could he do that too? Sprout wings and breathe fire? Even so small, he must still be Draca.

  Deep in her thoughts, she barely noticed they were climbing steadily upward. They walked in silence until Camus pushed open a creaky wooden door to the threshold of an outdoor courtyard. Thick gray stones formed a wall, fully enclosing what looked exactly like a wild English garden. And sun!

  She whirled in delight, her face lifted to the warm rays. Blue skies and a few white clouds floating lazily in the sunny expanse. This couldn’t be Portland; deep winter had the city locked down in solid gray. These kinds of flowers and sun wouldn’t happen for at least another three months, and yet here she was, standing in a country garden.

  Buttercups and yellow daisies lined the path, while lavender and rosemary grew wild everywhere, scenting the fresh breeze. She leaned down to breathe the fragrance of a bush loaded with deep red roses.