by Lisa Daniels
“This is actually my bedroom, so if you’ll excuse the mess…”
For one second, wild panic stopped Anya’s heart, before Kalgrin added, “I’ll be sleeping on the floor in the living room, since I only have one bed. Now, let me see…” He began rummaging through a chest of drawers, pulling out a baggy shirt that looked like a tent. “Here. Do you want underwear, too? I have some shorts…” He took out some white shorts and tossed them her way. “I didn’t actually get around to making your delicious toast and butter meal yet, but I will now. The bread’s a little stale, so it’ll be better burnt. Come into the living room in a few minutes.” He gave her a little wink, then ducked out of the room and closed the door.
Anya’s heart slowly returned to its normal pace. For one insane second, she’d believed Kalgrin intended to sleep in the same bed as her. Which meant him doing male things. Male things that resulted in babies.
Why the fuck had she thought that? Gods, her mother had corrupted her thinking on this. Kalgrin might be a male, but that didn’t mean he had uncontrollable urges to fuck things.
She knew… well, it made sense men and women got attracted to one another. Something needed to happen to keep the babies coming. But people also practised self-control. Anya felt attraction all the time in the plantation, but she chose to control it.
She didn’t want to risk bringing any children into such a miserable world. She didn’t fault those who did, because maybe having something to love made it better. She just didn’t want to be a part of it.
Thank you, Kalgrin. Genuine gratitude flooded into Anya’s heart for the first time. Now that she’d let go of her fear and exhaustion, of her instant judgment when it came to dragons, she saw him for what he was. Someone who had gone above and beyond to get her out of there. Someone who had abandoned his plans to keep her safe.
Plans to kill the wyrms. Plans she’d always wanted to execute herself.
Anya took the time to inspect her new room. Honestly, although the appreciation clutched at her heart, she found Kalgrin a hard one to figure out. He just casually chatted to her and did these things for her without a second thought. Like it didn’t even occur to him that she was some kind of lesser being, as wyrms loved to enforce. Even when he’d seen her face-to-face without the dirt and grime of her disguise on, he’d simply admired her, then let her go on her way. Without ravaging her like dragons were supposed to do. Still, that glimmer of interest from him meant her mother was right. She was attractive. To him, anyway.
Thinking about her mother made Anya stare at the bed with an icy fist around her heart. Curses, she needed to just stop. Dead or alive, there was nothing she could do about it for now. Kalgrin had taken her out of that place. He’d freed her.
For the first time, she walked around a place with her shoulders straight rather than hunched. She moved without the terror of being beaten, of being discovered and dragged away. She stood here, washed clean, and didn’t dread the reveal of her body. She relished not having her breasts bound, too. That shit hurt.
I’m safe. I’m safer than I’ve ever been. My mother would be proud of this. She’d be proud to know her daughter made it out.
This thought counted on Kalgrin being the person he said he was. That he’d truly spotted her and made the split decision to save her. And then proceeded to talk her ear off as he carried her through the dark sky. Carried her in his arms as he walked to his little house, let her use his bathtub, and sleep in his only bed. He might not be wealthy, even for a dragon, but he treated her like an equal. Someone worth saving.
The thought sobered her up. Knowing that a complete stranger found her worthwhile. Most humans wouldn’t have even bothered. Then again, humans didn’t have the power to fly away. If they tried to help her, they’d just end up dying along with her.
It bugged her, somehow. She slipped on the baggy shirt, and tried on the underwear, though she needed to tighten it around the waistband to make it stay up.
She struggled to balance her thoughts, to keep them from imagining horrible things happening to her family. The rawness of that panic still lingered in her soul. Waking up to hear them searching for her. Seeing her mother’s frantic movements, understanding the situation before Anya did, and forcing her daughter to escape through the privy.
One way to escape, she supposed.
And this dragon, this drake claimed he was going to kill the owner of the plantation.
If they fought in their dragon forms, Anya didn’t know who would win. The huge wyrm that towered above everything, thrashing with that huge, serpentine tail, scratching with sharp, cruel claws? Or the drake, smaller, more mobile, with thicker scales and an inexplicable animosity towards their cousins?
Protecting humans. There were things out there that actually wanted to help them. Anya lay in Kalgrin’s bed feeling utterly overwhelmed. She spread out her arms, letting her left fingers dangle over the sides. Cracks displayed in the black wooden beams in the ceiling, and she thought she spotted a spider, snuggled up in a groove.
There was just so much she didn’t know about the place she lived in. Her view of the world was limited to the stories upon the plantation, the cruelty of her masters, and a vague idea of the city. Nothing about other types of dragons, or if they liked or hated each other, or if humans lived in areas where they didn’t toil under the whip, or suffer early deaths from abuse and apathy.
Maybe she’d even bumped into a drake in the city, and just didn’t realize who they were at all. Wyrms had yellow eyes, after all. Kalgrin’s eyes shone an iron gray. The default drake color?
Either way, the lack of knowledge in her head loomed like the dark tunnel in her mind. A place where a shameful gap in her thoughts existed. Part of her wanted to sleep right now – until her stomach gave a growl, reminding her that Kalgrin was busy burning bread in his kitchen.
Sighing, she creaked herself out of bed, her bare feet padding on the smooth wooden floorboards. The aroma of toasted bread permeated her nostrils, and she sniffed in appreciation.
“Aha,” Kalgrin said, giving her an irritatingly charming smile. “For a moment, I was worried you might have fallen asleep. Not that I’d blame you, given all the excitement of tonight.”
She shrugged. “Not until I’ve had the pleasure of eating your food.”
“Pleasure, huh?” The smile turned into a smirk, before his expression turned grave. As if remembering that it wasn’t a good time to smirk. “Here you go. You can take it into your room if you want. I have some books in there if you want to read before sleeping as well… oh. Do you know how to read?”
Anya shook her head. Again, that hollowness tapped at her. Reminding her that she knew so little. “They don’t teach slaves to read. But we’d tell stories to one another.”
“That’s good. Stories are important. It’s how you learn your history, and learn from mistakes of the past.” Kalgrin quickly finished buttering her toast and then smearing a strange red substance over it, which he called strawberry jam. He told her strawberry was a red fruit, and she took his word for it. With her toast prepared, and a glass of water cupped in her hand, she ventured back into the bedroom.
Learn from mistakes in the past. Anya suspected that statement held some special meaning with Kalgrin. Maybe to do with his personal past, or of the past he knew through those books.
As she chewed through her food, smacking her lips in delight at the sweet, tingling texture of the jam, along with the crunch of the toast and the wetness of the butter, she let out a groan.
How could something so simple be so delicious? And this jam – whatever it was, she’d happily eat a whole jar of the stuff.
I wonder what mistake he’s made. Why he does the things he claims to do now. Everyone has a story.
Thinking of stories, Anya remembered one her grandpa used to say. One that made people sigh and wish that what he said was true, rather than wistful fancy.
“Once upon a time, we humans used to have magic in our blood,” Grandpa said in
that crackly voice of his, as if sandpaper had wedged in his throat, making the words grate out. “Magic so strong that the wyrms quivered in fear. They hated us for the magic, and they sought to take it from our souls. They succeeded through dark and terrible means, and made humans weaklings in comparison to them.”
Anya didn’t know how Grandpa knew the story. She just took it for granted that he knew everything.
“But they say one day the magic will return. It can’t stay blocked up forever. It is like water. It will find a way through the stones. And humans will rise once again, and take their rightful place in the world.”
It wasn’t a story about heroes. It was a stories about villains, about humans being tricked out of their magic, the methods lost to them forever.
Except, Anya knew the idea of humans possessing magic to be ridiculous.
She dreamed about it, sure. Everyone dreamed of a magic solution for their issues at some point.
She just knew better than to attempt to act upon it.
Anya finished her toast, wiped down her fingers with a cloth, and drank the water. She then fell asleep with that deep fear tickling at her consciousness, uncertain if her life really was going to improve, or whether she had moved into a new kind of nightmare. One where she was responsible for the deaths of her entire family. All because she dared to dream, and ignore advice.
All because.
Chapter Three
Kalgrin crept into the room a few hours after Anya had retired to bed. He wanted to see the woman for himself. Honestly, that transformation from muck to marvel still floored him. To think such a beautiful woman had hidden under all that. He knew the grime wasn’t her fault as well, though it had taken everything he had to keep his mind away from what she smelled like, so he wouldn’t do the undignified thing: hurl, and humiliate her further.
Poor thing had been scared witless when he scooped her up. He didn’t have time to explain, not with those bastards chasing her. He was probably lucky she didn’t die from a heart attack.
No doubt father would chide him for his sloppy handling of the situation, and for prioritizing the woman over the mission. Curse it, though. She would have died in front of his eyes otherwise.
Now this lost soul lay in his bed, slumbering. Maybe having a nightmare of her family, judging by the way she twitched and shivered in her sleep. He’d hoped to find her lying there serenely, to be able to look at her expression without the guard it wore. Instead, he found one scrunched up in stress.
Normally, he’d hand off a new rescue to the Center. Any rescues in the area went there for rehabilitation, sometimes to break them out of their slave mentalities, and then place them somewhere where they could work, contribute to the organization, and stay safe.
Something about this woman told him she hadn’t broken.
He thought it a positive sign. It showed she possessed a strong spirit under that diminutive body. She would do well. He intended to gently prod at her, to see if any underlying traumas existed in her psyche. Humans were very good at hiding these things. Hiding themselves.
They needed to. He wished they didn’t.
He reached out a hand to touch her forehead. She’d either wake up, startled, in which case, she no longer experienced whatever distressed her, or his touch would help soothe her, and bring her into a calm state of sleep again.
Her skin burned under his palm. A fever? He checked her neck, her back. No. Just her cheeks. Everything else remained normal, though her heart beat fast, as if being chased.
Ah. If those wyrms caught her… he closed his eyes. Well, they wouldn’t rape her. Not when she stank like a sewer. But she’d be dead. Such a beautiful little thing, hidden under all that mess. Such a shame she had to be born as a human.
At least now she’d be safe.
Hush now, little one. You’re not being chased by the monsters anymore. That part of your life is over. No more beatings, no more cruelty. I’ll make sure of it.
He continued to lightly stroke her on the cheek. She stiffened at first, confused with the contact, but soon relaxed. Her heart rate slowed down. The fire in her cheeks cooled, and she stopped her restless movements.
There. Now she looked serene. His eyes softened at the innocence there. All that innocence would vanish when she woke up, with a face hardened to the world, a heart frosted over for protection. A twinge of desire stirred in his groin when he continued touching her delicate muscles, trailing a finger along the corner of her mouth.
Didn’t really help she appeared so gorgeous. But he’d handle it. She’d need to leave him soon.
Sooner rather than later. Otherwise he didn’t think he could control his impulses. Already, his accursed mind started wandering from the relaxed state of her face, to how she might sound when he touched her in her intimate places, caused that heart to pound faster, and her eyes to stare in hazed lust.
Control yourself, Kalgrin. He stepped away at last, heading out into the night.
The other drakes waited for him in the small tavern that Seon served in. A good barmaid, friendly to humans and drakes, and someone he planned to bring into his contacts at a point, anyway.
Normally, the tavern would be shut at this time, but he’d pulled in a favor with the owner, needing a comfortable place for everyone to meet.
Inside the small, snug tavern, the others awaited.
“Ho, Kalgrin,” Leoch said, raising a tankard towards him. “So when are we going for this plantation again?” Kalgrin smiled at him. Straight to the point. Others might banter, keep the talk friendly before heading straight to the heart of the matter. Not Leoch. Leoch’s boots were already slung over the table. The three other drakes, Jakon, Varis, and Targosa, drank from deep mugs. Seon served behind the bar, though she looked tired.
“Thanks, Seon,” Kalgrin said, giving her what he hoped looked like a grateful smile.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m sacrificing my sleep for you. This better be worth it.”
“Doing it all to impress a girl,” he said. Maybe a quarter true. Mostly, he needed to rearrange his plans, thanks to a certain woman popping into his life and coming under his care.
“That ‘girl’ of yours looked like some horror from the deep,” Leoch said, wrinkling his puffy red nose. As a drake, he appeared impressive and golden. As a human… he looked rotund, like someone a little too fond of their drinks. “I can’t believe you even carried that.”
They’d all seen, of course. Smelled even worse. “I’m sorry I had to call it off. I know we were all due to fly in at midnight, but things were far too chaotic there. The girl was trying to run away, the guards were everywhere. Even if I left her alone, I don’t think it would have been easy getting in.”
“What a soft heart you have,” Seon said, now grinning impishly. “I got your favorite drink here. Bringing it over now.” She stepped from behind the bar after tying her dark hair into a severe knot, and gave Kalgrin his dark beer.
“When will we attempt the rescue again?” Leoch folded his arms, before letting out a burp. Nice.
“I’m thinking next week. Give it a span to calm down, then we’ll go for it again.”
Leoch nodded, his gray eyes determined. “Nasty place, that. Wyrms are horrible things, anyway, but what happens there? We can’t get ‘em out soon enough.”
“And you can’t get your pockets lined soon enough,” Kalgrin added. Leoch shrugged, grinning.
“Drake’s gotta make a living somehow. Best to make it doing your fool, soft human rescues. Though you and Artiz got a good thing going.”
“Yeah. Artiz is at the school, you know. He…” Kalgrin stopped there. Best to not mention too much about the school. “He always looks forward to taking on more students.”
They hashed out the plans, which were essentially the same, although they’d need to spread out to their other contacts to let them know things had been pushed back.
No help for it. Kalgrin intended to save. He intended to gradually weaken all the minor wyrm landowners, t
ake away their humans, slowly but surely weakening the grip of the wyrms. Sometimes it felt like trying to move a mountain.
More often, it seemed fruitless – except when he got the smiles of the humans saved. They weren’t the reason he did it.
But they were part of the reason he kept going.
With their timetable drawn out again, with Kalgrin once again being the scout, the others retired to the beds in the tavern. Seon waved him goodbye with a jaw-cracking yawn, closing the door behind him and locking it as he went back out onto the street.
Watching Anya attempt to adjust to her new life was both heartwarming and sad. She struggled to walk down a street, and flinched whenever someone so much as looked at her.
“It’s okay. Wyrm patrols here don’t tend to come until the evenings, because there’s too many drakes away, and we don’t like it,” he reassured her, using it as an excuse to pat her on the back, just so he felt the imprint of his palm upon her slender body. Anya accepted it, though she frowned at his revelation. “I thought you said this place was drake-and human-run.”
“It is. It’s technically within the wyrm city of Kalhast, meaning it’s in their province, and their jurisdiction. Officially. Unofficially, they’re not welcome here. Tarn is about the closest we can get to a wyrm city, without it actually being overrun by wyrms. Easier to get information and see what they’re up to this way.”
“Hmm.” Anya appeared doubtful, but accepted him at his word. The way she puckered her nose now – he wanted to poke that nose, just to witness her reaction. He knew, really, he should be dropping her off at one of the support groups soon, but he wanted her to himself for a little longer.
Just a little longer. To find out more about her. Maybe he did this simply because of the surprise upon finding out what she looked like. An ugly weed hiding the vibrant flower within.
He introduced her to Seon, and hinted to the barmaid that it would be really nice if she considered asking the owner if he wouldn’t mind taking an extra worker. Anya could do with something stable, some wages, and a reason to get her life in order.