by Marcy Jacks
And it had to do with Jason. For that, Jason needed to go, and Kraigan needed to stop what they were doing. Enough was enough. They’d had their fun, and it was coming time for Kraigan to move on to other pastures anyway. He never kept his lovers long, and Jason would be no different.
If anything, he would be doing the man a favor. If they kept this up for too long, their affair would be noticeable to the more fanatical dragons in the nest. Jason was already something of a target for violence, and by staying away from him, Kraigan would be protecting him from being noticed and abused anymore.
But even with that logical reasoning inside of his mind, he wasn’t comforted by it. He tossed and he turned in his bed, unable to become comfortable, and then he realized why.
This was the first night in just over the week they’d been together that Jason was not in his bed, there to fall asleep with him.
The man was something of a snuggler. Kraigan hadn’t been sure whether or not he should be amused or annoyed by that when he discovered it the first night, but then again, he always fell easily to sleep whenever Jason held him like that.
Hugging him even with his eyes shut and his chest slowly rising and falling in slumber.
And now he wasn’t here, and Kraigan, it seemed, would have to become used to that once more.
He spent most nights alone, and he’d never had to become used to being alone again after he ended it with his other lovers, so this would be no different. He simply had to focus, to concentrate, and then sleep would come.
The problem seemed to be that the more he tried to force sleep to come to him, the stronger it resolved to stay away.
“I do not love him. I do not love him,” Kraigan said softly again and again, all through the night, but he could not sleep. It evaded him and refused to come, and even when he thought he had it, it eluded him.
At one time, he thought he had slept, but it seemed more like he had just closed his eyes when he opened them again, looked to his wind-up clock on the dresser, and realized it was coming dangerously close to ringing the little bells on top. The ones that would demand he wake for the day and set about with his duties.
Kraigan sighed, reached for the expensive little piece of technology, picked it up, and threw it at the wall just as the little metal hand began its fast rhythm of beating against the bells.
He might as well get up and set about his day. He’d better not see Tatsu, however. If he did, then he was going to punch his face in again.
Which reminded him. He looked down to his knuckles and hissed.
They had swollen to twice their size, and when he clenched and unclenched his fist, the pain he’d forgotten about flared like a burning fire in his hand.
He really didn’t need this today.
Kraigan quickly used his water room, cleaned his teeth, relieved himself in the wooden bucket behind another wall built for privacy, and then dressed before leaving his room.
He just wanted this day to be over. Then he could come back and find that a servant had taken away the soiled sheets so he wouldn’t have to look at them and think of Jason anymore. Then he could get properly drunk and let his mind fly away from all of this.
That was the one thing he needed right then more than anything. To be able to stretch his wings and fly. Flying always relieved his stress, but for today, his duties were within the nest itself. It had been his leg that had been injured, not his wings, and his leg was perfectly fine for takeoffs and for landings, yet he would be stuck inside of the nest.
He passed by Tatsu’s room, not bothering to knock on the door like he always did. If the bastard wanted to be woken up early today, then he had better have set his clock because Kraigan sure as hell was not about to do him any favors today.
He would be too busy trying not to think about Jason, his brunet hair, how soft it felt to touch, even for a man, and the look in his eyes whenever he was happy, which was most of the time, or sad, which was how Kraigan had made him feel last night.
Chapter Twelve
Jason didn’t want to get up. He wanted to stay under the covers of his bed and never leave. He just felt too damned bad. His heart was actually hurting. There was an ache in his chest that he couldn’t get rid of, and it was making him sick.
His eyes wouldn’t stop burning or watering. His nose leaked, and hiccups rocked through his dry throat.
If Kraigan could see him now, the man would snort in disgust at Jason’s show of weakness, and he’d turn his back on him, content with his decision of not wanting anything to do with him.
And Jason was crying his eyes out for that man.
His blanket was yanked off of his body, and in response, the first thing he did was cringe, his knees coming up as he tried to hold his warmth as close as he could, but there was nothing for it.
“Look, I’m sorry about what happened, but you have to let it go. It’s time to get up and go to work,” Tom said, scurrying around Jason’s bed. He poured fresh water into a glass and then into the bowl on the nightstand by his bed before he set aside the jug and sat down next to Jason.
Jason didn’t want Tom anywhere near him. He didn’t want anyone near him. Even if it was Athy or Adam, he wanted to be left alone, but Tom wouldn’t allow it. The man grabbed Jason by the shoulders and yanked him into a sitting position.
Jason had thought Tom was smaller than he was, but this show of strength proved otherwise. Maybe it was just the way Tom carried himself, but now he seemed more like Jason’s size as he started to wipe Jason’s face off with the rag he’d wetted in the bowl.
At least that made him feel a little better.
“You’ve missed breakfast, and you’re an hour late to get to your chores. You can’t do things like that. Being sick is one thing, but you’ll spend a day in the pit if you purposely don’t work,” Tom said, producing something from his pocket. “Here, I snagged it off the cart before coming back here.”
And just like that, Jason wanted to wrap his arms around the man and cry some more.
It was a small pastry, about the size of Tom’s palm. Some sort of red filling oozing out the side, and it had powdered sugar on top. Jason’s stomach grumbled at the sight of it, but he also wanted the sugar more than anything else.
He was already embarrassed enough. He just took the food and stuffed it into his mouth. It was good, and it made him feel a little better as he chewed. Tom gave him a glass of water to chase down his measly breakfast, but Jason knew he would be starving well before it was time for his lunch with just this.
He was still thankful to Tom for bringing him something, however. “Thanks,” he said.
Tom nodded, handing Jason the rag so he could wipe his own face off and clean up. “I need to get going. Are you going to be all right?”
Jason nodded. He wouldn’t be all right, but he would get to work. He could suck back his heartache long enough to at least get through the day. That would have to be enough.
Looking up, watching as Tom left their room behind to go and get his other chores done, Jason wondered if Tom knew who exactly it was that had broken his heart.
Probably. It wasn’t such a great secret among the guys. Though no one had said anything, it was clear they were somewhat relieved that the relationship had ended.
With no relationship, with Jason able to claim that he wasn’t sleeping with a dragon, it would be assumed that he had been used for sex. That was fine. A dragon wanting to play around with a human was all well and good, but when a dragon wanted to mate with a human, the problems started.
After what had happened with Aaron, and the fact that this would not be the first time that a dragon had broken Jason’s heart, well, it was clear that the guys were relieved. They didn’t want another attack, or possibly even a death in their midst.
Jason took another sip of water and prepared himself for his day. He went out, walked all the way down to his section for cleaning, used his keys to the water closet, and let himself inside where his bucket and mop were waiting.
Stupid Kraigan. Stupid, asshole, jerk Kraigan. Jason knew he’d never liked that man. He’d always hated the warrior, and this was a good reminder why. The fact that he had ever let himself get attached, that it had gone on for as long as it had, was Jason’s fault, not Kraigan’s.
He’d been stupid for letting his dick do his thinking for him, for thinking that just because Kraigan had kissed him once meant that he’d ever liked Jason at all and that he wouldn’t do something as utterly mean as throw Jason out of his room after fucking him.
He wished Kraigan would have just told him from the beginning what this was. Or had he done that? Jason couldn’t even remember. Now he felt stuck. He was in love with a man who didn’t like him, and there was nothing he could do to forget about that except for mop the damned floors!
Jason growled through his tears and kicked at the bucket. Water and soap sloshed everywhere, but it felt good to attack something that had a lot of weight to it. He kicked it again, sending the bucket flying into the ceiling this time since there was no water within it to weigh it down.
He might have even dented it. He wished he could break it. He wanted to break and smash everything in here!
The light from the outside hall blinked away as the door leading out suddenly shut behind him.
It was as though someone had poured that cold, soapy water on top of Jason’s head, snapping him out of his rage and leaving him with just a simmering annoyance as he turned to the door to open it and let the light back in.
He couldn’t. There was someone standing in his way. A very tall someone who was in this small space with him, who had stepped inside of the water closet and had shut the door to keep Jason from getting out.
His heart damn near stopped. There was no noise, only the sound of his harsh breathing as he thought of who this might be and why they were not saying anything to him.
Jason looked up, and up, though he wasn’t sure why since he couldn’t see a thing. It was strange, knowing that his eyes were working but that he couldn’t make out a thing in front of his face. He couldn’t see, but he could tell the man was tall because he could hear where the man’s breath was coming from.
Way up, and he seemed to be staring down at Jason, which frightened him even more.
He knew what this was and who this man had to be. A dragon. Thanks to Jason’s little fit last night, crying and running through the nest, not caring who saw him and his lack of care over the last week, this dragon was here to teach Jason a lesson.
He swallowed hard. “Uh, if it makes you feel any better, the dragon man dumped me.”
The immediate presence of a tight fist around his throat and the sensation of being lifted off of his feet and slammed into the wall above the sink told him that, no, it did not make the dragon holding him feel any better.
* * * *
Kraigan hated this. He absolutely, fucking despised this.
He crumpled the paper in his fists, wishing to inflict more damage on it than just a little wrinkling. He wished he was a fire dragon and could blast it into a thousand flames.
The paper from the healer that still did not allow him to fly. He had to present it to Dravick, and he would have to do it soon.
Kraigan despised this. He wanted to stretch his wings and fly, but now he would be forced to stay inside of the nest, where he would probably have to see Jason and his miserable face, which Kraigan had made that way and he would never escape from.
He wanted to smash his fists through something. Anything would be good at this point.
Instead, he uncurled the paper, smoothed it out on the wall, and brought it to Dravick.
The man would be enjoying his lunch right about now.
A man rushed by him, his shoulder smacking against Kraigan’s in an effort to hurry to the clinic.
Kraigan frowned and turned to look just as the man pushed his way through the doors to get inside. There was a commotion within. Kraigan turned back to see what the fuss was about, something inside of him buzzing that all was not well.
He pushed the door open just in time to see the healer and his apprentices pull the man onto a gurney. The dragon male was clutching at the side of his neck, blood spilling, his eyes wide as he asked the healer if he was dying or not.
Kraigan waited for the doctor to pull the male’s hand back and tell him that he was not dying but he was badly cut. Then they wheeled their patient into the next room.
Before the male vanished around that other small corner, his eyes met Kraigan’s, and they widened.
Kraigan stepped back into the healer’s clinic, thinking to speak with him, but he knew that would be impossible even before one of the nurses approached him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, warrior, but you can’t go back there.”
Kraigan grumbled. “I’ll return for a report on his injuries.”
The nurse nodded. “We’ll write it in his file whether it was work-related or a fight.”
That was all Kraigan could do. His job in the nest was boring sometimes. He would like for there to be a fight so he could get into it with the fighters, so he could slam his fists into something that was not Tatsu’s nose or his door.
He turned to leave, exiting the clinic for the second time that day, but then he stopped. He waited until the door was shut behind him before he turned back to look at it. What could be work-related that would cause him to rush into the clinic like that? What line of work was he in? Usually when there was a serious injury like that in the workplace, others came with the injured, helping them along.
Which meant this man had likely been alone when he’d been injured. That was odd because everyone worked with someone.
The wound on his throat, while nasty and red, had also shown a lot of torn skin.
Though there was no logical reason for his thoughts to turn to Jason, they did. He and Jason had been together for long enough that someone must have noticed them. Would they also have noticed that Kraigan had ended things with Jason last night? Would it have mattered at that point?
His legs itched to move, and he did not fight against the feeling. Kraigan moved, quickly and with purpose. When he could no longer stand to walk quickly, he ran. Even with the pain that shot up his still healing leg, he pumped his arms and rushed to the area that he knew was where Jason usually worked.
He had to get by the bazaar first. With the way he ran, he probably made the people milling about think there was a criminal on the loose.
Kraigan just needed to see him. That was it. One look and he would be gone. Jason wouldn’t even notice he was there.
Taking into account the time of day, and thinking about where which hallway Jason should be sweeping and mopping, Kraigan went there first.
And found nothing. The hall floor was still filthy, the dirty and muddy boot prints of every dragon who had been walking through plainly visible for him to see.
He searched the next hall, and the next. There was nothing. It was all the same.
Then Kraigan went to the first hallway, where Jason should have started at the beginning of his day.
His breath hitched with what he found. Terror made him blind to everything else as he ran to the pale figure with the gaping wound at his throat, lying against the wall.
And Kraigan slipped. Something wet and slippery caught his boot, and he went down hard. The knock to his head made him see white, and his teeth clacked together.
There was water, soapy water on the floor just here, and Kraigan realized the water closet was open and that Jason’s bucket had been spilled over, leaking water and soap into the hall.
Jason.
Kraigan
looked back at him, so small and so still. He hadn’t been imagining it. There was an open, bleeding wound at his throat, and it wouldn’t vanish. Even his spinning vision couldn’t make it go away.
A noise like a wounded animal left Kraigan’s throat as he pushed and struggled to get to Jason. The slippery substance on the floor made certain that he stayed on his hands and knees until he was right there, right in front of Jason, and he was still not moving.
Kraigan couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t think. He didn’t dare touch Jason, lest he contaminate his body in some way, but a hot mess of moisture was on his face and dripping down, down, down.
Blood on his face, on his throat. Someone had…Someone had…
Another pained noise, and Kraigan reached out one hand, not to touch but just to brush some of Jason’s hair out of his face. To do at least that much with his shaking fingers because he had to do something.
Kraigan’s fingers made contact, and Jason sucked in a breath. The man’s eyes flew wide as his head came up and he looked around, nearly knocking Kraigan back onto his ass, but he was pulled forward.
Alive. He was alive! But for how long?
Jason’s eyes landed on Kraigan, but the wide panic in them made Kraigan wonder if Jason even recognized him as he sucked in a hard breath and tried to push himself away. He ended up only sliding across the wall a bit before Kraigan grabbed him.
“Jason, it’s me. It’s me! Stop moving!”
He couldn’t stand that Jason was moving even a little, making the wound at his throat even worse. How was he still alive?
“Kraigan?”
“Don’t talk.” Fuck. Even that was hard to listen to. He brought his hand up to touch Jason’s throat, wanting to keep any more blood from spilling out of the wound. Jason’s eyes and nostrils flared as he pulled back, but Kraigan already had him and…
There was no wound.
Kraigan blinked. His vision was still swimming from the knock to his head, but it was coming into better focus now, and coupled with the touch of his hand, he could see that there was no gaping wound, only blood. Kraigan couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.