The farther away she got from the bus station, the more decrepit the buildings looked. The sidewalks here had not been repaired in at least a decade, cracks spider-webbing their away along the streets. Laney jumped over deep scores in the cement, which was dirty and smelled of urine, garbage, and vomit.
A group of men, dressed in wife-beaters, low-slung jeans, and yellow bandannas was walking toward her. Her adrenaline kicked into overdrive as they casually and quickly surrounded her. She clutched her duffle to her chest, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking in terror.
“Hey baby,” one of the guys asked her.
“You want some company darlin’?” Another asked, looking her up and down.
“No, thank you,” she mumbled.
“Aw, come on, baby,” said a third. Laney looked around her, realizing that the six of them definitely had her trapped. She was grabbed, and dragged down an alleyway that stank of musty pavement and garbage. She gagged at the smell.
Two men held her down, while another unbuckled his pants. He smiled dangerously, exhibiting yellowed teeth with a gap in the two front ones. Her heart pounding frantically in her chest, Laney fought against the hands that held her, tears streaming down her face as she panicked.
A large beast sprang from the shadows, scattering the men. It landed on the one who had been undoing his pants, caving his chest in with a punch from one of its massive claws. It tore at his throat, tearing it out with a bold swipe of its talons. It glittered dangerously in the dim lighting of the alley. Noticing the still-visible chemical burn mark around its neck, it was the dragon that she had rescued earlier, Laney realized. Or, at least one that looked very similar to it.
As the other men began to scatter, the dragon made another swipe with its claws, and another man fell to the ground. The men screamed in terror, running for their lives as the dragon shot a brilliant stream of fire from its jaws, the heat searing their flesh and lighting their clothes on fire.
Laney stood, her legs shaking, as she rushed to the dragon, throwing her arms around its hard-scaled neck. She sobbed, hugging it tightly. At that moment, the creature seemed to melt, shifting its form as bone and sinew snapped and scales resolved into caramel-toned human skin. Laney stood back, her arms held to her sides as she beheld a man; he was all lean muscle; wiry as a willow wand, yet strong and well-muscled. He had long, tousled, golden hair that covered his neck, and ice-blue eyes that seemed to look deep into the depths of Laney’s soul. He reached out, touching Laney’s face, as though it were something precious, and Laney felt something deep inside of her, something that she had long believed to be dead, respond to his touch.
The man looked exhausted, as though he had not slept in days. He had deep, dark circles beneath his eyes, and he had the hollowness around his cheeks that signaled someone who had not eaten well for a long time, and then there was the burn from the collar. His hands shook with the severe combination of fatigue, pain, and hunger.
“Who are you?” Laney whispered.
“Kyle Danner,” he replied.
“Laney Parker,” she replied, and then took off her denim jacket, holding it out to him to cover his nakedness.
“I have clothing. It’s all there,” he said, gesturing toward a pile of discarded clothing and a backpack that had been haphazardly flung against a wall of the alley that they were standing in. He walked over, leaning down to pick up a pair of ragged blue jeans, and giving Laney a good view of his attractively articulated back and well-formed rear-end. Laney flushed, and turned her glance away.
“Were you following me?” Laney asked, frowning and recalling her sense of being followed.
“Yep,” he replied evenly, stepping into the jeans.
“Why?”
“Because you saved me.” He paused, looking at her over his shoulder for a second before pulling a well-worn white t-shirt over his head.
No man had ever stood up for Laney in this way before. If they had, they would have demanded something in return. She felt special…for the first time in her memory. She had been in a long string of foster homes throughout her childhood. No one had ever gone out of their way for her, or put her first, like Kyle Danner had. She had no idea how to act. How could she thank him?
Kyle was pulling something on, placing it around his neck—it looked like a simple felt strip. Laney noted the presence of the chemical burns from the collar, still etched in red across his skin.
He patted his pockets, checking for his wallet. When he seemed satisfied that all of his belongings were still present and accounted for, he looked at Laney, his eyebrows raised, questioning.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked her.
“Sure,” she replied. As a foster kid, you had to learn how to roll with the punches, to take what came your way, and to not question it. Kyle Danner had come her way—and she was gladly going wherever he was.
~*~
Laney’s heart raced with delight as she walked the seedy back streets with Kyle. She felt safe and protected in his company. He led her to a motel, a dark and run down affair tucked in between a greasy spoon restaurant and a foreclosed shop with old mannequins in the window. The front lobby smelled of stale cigarettes. They walked up to the front desk, which was enclosed in safety glass.
“One double room,” Kyle requested. The desk attendant looked up from the cheap romance novel that she was reading. Her huge, watery eyes seemed to look through them. She pointed to the ledger, which, to Laney’s relief, Kyle signed with only his name. The attendant slid a key through the opening at the bottom of the safety glass. Laney reached into her duffle bag to take out some of the money that she had gotten from the pawn shop earlier in the evening.
Kyle pushed her hand aside, taking out a beaten-up black leather wallet, peeling off a couple of twenties and sliding them through the slot in the glass. He took the key, and took Laney’s elbow, guiding her to the dingy elevator against the back wall of the lobby.
When they arrived in the room, they found that it, too, smelled of stale cigarettes and astringent cleaner. There was one bed, which took up most of the space, and a television which had been screwed securely into the wall. A tiny table with a wingback chair occupied the rest of the space. Kyle set down his backpack, glancing around.
“I can sleep on the chair,” he said.
“It’s fine if we share the bed,” Laney replied.
“No, you—”
“No, really—it’s fine,” she said, looking Kyle in the eye. He nodded, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Laney sat down beside him, folding her hands when she realized that she didn’t know what to do with them. They sat in silence for a moment.
“Why were you chained in that room?” she asked him. “How did you get there?” He was silent for a while, and Laney was afraid that she had asked too personal a question of someone who she had just met.
“Dragon hunters,” he began. “People who hunt my kind to harvest our blood, scales, and saliva, which can all be used as spell components.”
“That’s horrible,” Laney said, her hand going to her mouth.
“It’s the least of it,” he said. “We can be sold for sport—kept in the dark, starved, and kept awake for days before being turned on others of our kind in a cage. I think this is what they had planned for me. They were waiting until I went mad and weak from pain, hunger and exhaustion. That’s what that collar does—it burns until we can no longer bear it.” Tears were springing to Laney’s eyes. She felt for him, and the pain that he had gone through. She felt as though she could not trust her voice. He was staring at the floor, eyes wide, imagining his near-fate. Laney reached out, touching his cheek gingerly. He flinched, as though shocked by her touch.
“Oh, I—” Laney began to apologize, but Kyle was holding her in his arms, kissing her passionately. She responded, hungry for his touch. The kisses deepened, and he pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he placed his large hands on the small of her back.
He stop
ped, studying her, his eyes appraising.
“What’s wrong?” Laney whispered, pushing his golden hair back with a finger, and cupping his cheek in her palm. He leaned into her hand.
“Touching you…” he began and then paused. He squinted, as though it was hard to say. “This is the first time since my family was murdered that I feel as though I belong.” Laney smiled, a tear winding its way down her face. He was a stray, too, it seemed.
“To be honest, I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere like I do when I’m in your arms.” He smiled in response, wrapping his arms around her like steel bands. Laney arched her back, leaning into him as much as possible while ignoring the pain from her injured rib. He reached up, pulling at her shirt. At the same time, Laney found herself tugging on his desperately. Laney rolled off of Kyle’s lap as she fumbled at his zipper while he removed her pants. He stood, letting his own slide down. Laney rotated so that she was sitting on the bed in front of him. He leaned over her, kissing her hungrily, letting his skin touch hers. Laney placed her hands on his sternum, running them over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin. She wondered whether this heat was from desire, a fever, or whether it was part of his being half dragon. He paused, looking at her. She realized that he was asking her for permission. She nodded, unused to being asked.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Yes.” She had never wanted anything more. He entered her, and she inhaled deeply, feeling him fill her. He looked her in the eyes as he ran his hands gingerly over her bruised abdomen. He frowned slightly when he noticed them. She reached for him, pulling him under with her.
“More,” she demanded, “more.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he promised, breathing heavily against her skin. He trailed kisses down over her collarbone, nipping her lightly. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, tugging on it in her thirst for him. They made love with reckless abandon. It was the type of lovemaking that occurs after near-death experiences, when all of the passion is fiery, and all-consuming.
~*~
After, entwined in the sheets, they realized that they were starving. Kyle pulled on his clothes and went to grab a pizza from the restaurant that was next to the motel. While he was gone, Laney stood in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. Her swollen lip was bleeding a little after her passionate endeavors. She covered a bruise on her cheek with a hand, imagining it gone. Her skin was flushed a pink color. She smiled at herself, and walked back into the room, picking up her t-shirt off of the bed, and pulling it on. She located her panties on the floor where Kyle had dropped them. She pulled those on, as well.
Kyle returned shortly, pizza in hand.
“I hope the lady likes pepperoni,” he said, smiling.
“Yes,” Laney replied, her stomach rumbling. Kyle opened the cardboard box; the smell was heady and delicious. As they dug in, sitting on the bed cross-legged and looking at each other over the pizza box, Kyle cleared his throat.
“So, tell me about yourself,” he said, looking at her intently.
“Not much to say,” Laney began with a sigh. “I’ve been in countless foster families…don’t recall my original one. Phased out of the system at eighteen, and then I’ve been living with my criminal, abusive, older boyfriend until last night, when my residence was the hospital.”
“Wait, you were in the hospital?”
“Yeah…fractured rib,” she said.
“You should have told me,” he said, a haunted look on his face.
“It was worth the pain,” Laney said, and changed the subject. “So, what will you do now?”
“Get out of the city,” he said. “Hopefully find another family of dragon shifters, preferably somewhere with a lot of space to run and a lot of room to hide from the hunters.”
“Me too. My dream has always been to have my own home outside of the city,” Laney said, swallowing a bite of pizza. “Somewhere that I can see the sky and do some gardening.” Kyle leaned back, propped up on his hands. He arched his eyebrow.
“That’s rather poetic for a foster kid.”
“In one of my foster homes, one of the good ones, the foster mother did a lot of gardening,” she explained. “It was therapeutic for us kids, so she encouraged us to participate, giving each of us a job to do in the garden. We would grow flowers, and vegetables out on the rooftop of their apartment building. It was one of my favorite places.”
“Why did you have to leave?”
“The foster mother was placed in a nursing home by her family,” Laney looked away from him. “They believed she was too old to be living on her own and raising kids.”
"How long will you stay here?" She asked. "I know it's not safe for you."
"I'm not leaving yet, ” he replied. They finished eating in silence, and Kyle got up, placing the cardboard box on the dingy table. Laney got under the rucked up covers, where Kyle joined her. He got on his side beside her, and reached for her.
“Come here,” he said, and she happily curled up facing him, her head resting on his shoulder. Kyle fell asleep quickly, exhausted from his experience. Laney listened as his breathing softened.
~*~
After a solid night’s sleep, Kyle looked remarkably better. They spent the morning in bed, deciding to remain at the motel another night.
“We should lay low,” Kyle said, pulling his clothes back on. “I’ll go and pay for tonight.” He left the room. Laney could feel worry, pooling in her stomach, but she didn’t want this honeymoon-like period with Kyle to end. Lance had endless resources at his disposal, and although this was nestled in rival territory, those rivals might be willing to let Lance retrieve what he believed to be rightfully his in exchange for some concessions.
When Kyle returned, he carried takeout containers with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast from the restaurant beside the motel. They ate, and then spent the day watching the television and messing around. Laney reassured herself that she needed this day to recuperate, her injuries healing.
As the sun sank, Kyle stood up from the bed, pulling the rumpled sheets off of the floor. He tucked them around Laney as he kissed her cheek.
“I have to go,” he said. Laney’s heart sank.
“Oh,” she said sadly. “Okay. I understand.”
“Oh, no, darling,” he replied. “I just need to go out for a little while. I’ll be back.” He kissed the tip of her nose, and she laughed, her heart lightened at the thought of his return. He finished dressing, and then kissed her on the lips, waving behind him as he left.
Laney got up, walking into the bathroom. She turned on the shower and got in, letting the hot water soothe her injuries. She peeled the wax paper off of a bar of soap, tenderly cleaning her skin. She used the tiny bottle of shampoo, covering her hair in suds, and letting them rinse out. Climbing out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel.
She wiped off the mirror with a hand, inspecting the cut on her lip. The cut had sealed, leaving a dark spot on her lip. It was bruised purple. If left alone, in a few days it would turn a horrible shade of yellow.
Laney went back into the room, opening her duffle bag and pulling out a change of clothes. She had taken only what she could while fleeing Lance’s in order to get to the hospital. She had a pair of sweat pants and a black cami that looked attractive. She pulled on a pair of black lace panties and a leopard-print bra that drew attention to her cleavage. The one advantage to Lance was that he gave her basically unlimited funds for clothes. She realized now, of course, that that was no reason to stay with someone who beat the pulp out of you periodically.
She watched the television, putting on one of the movie channels. It was playing a high-octane car chase film. She loved those. She watched that one, and then the sequel to it, which came on as soon as the first ended. About halfway through the second film, Kyle returned.
Laney gasped. His clothes were torn, dirty, and splattered with blood. He had various cuts and bruises, which seemed to be healing as she looked on. In his hand, there
was a wad of cash, and he was counting it, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“Where were you?” she asked, feeling her eyes widen in shock and concern.
“I was just out…earning some money,” he replied in his even tone. “Everything is fine.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
“It doesn’t look fine,” she grumbled, finding that she couldn’t remain angry at him. Over the next week, he kept convincing her to stay. She would never leave the room, but Kyle went out to get food, or wherever he went to get beaten up and paid for it. She would beg him not to go, but he would, returning with extensive injuries that healed as she watched, concerned. She wanted to know what he was doing, and where he was going, yet a part of her knew the answer.
When he returned the second time, she approached it head on. When the door opened and he walked in, she shut off the television, which she had been watching, her stomach in nervous knots. She found that she couldn’t look at him as she spoke.
“You’ve been going to underground fights, haven’t you?” She listened as he exhaled sharply, wondering what emotion he was going through at the moment.
“Yes,” he replied.
“My ex, the one who abused me? He runs those,” she said. “If you’re going to continue to go to them, then I need to get out of here because you are going to lead him straight to me.” Kyle sat down on the bed beside her.
“I know. I just have to do this one last fight on the circuit,” he said. “The money that I make from this payout will be enough to get both of us out and somewhere that we can live our dreams. That house you wanted? With the garden?” She looked at him warily, seeing the hope that lit his face.
“I can buy that house with the money that I would make from this one last fight,” he said, reaching out and touching her face.
“I don’t want you to do it,” she said.
“I have to,” he replied.
“Please don’t,” she begged.
“Just this last one,” he promised. “And then I’m out.”
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