Freedom's Fall

by DJ Michaels

  Currently both Enforcers wore nothing but loose black pants, and the expanse of copper-toned skin on display made her dizzy. Rye turned back to the dumbwaiter, giving her a semi-impeded view of the tattoo on his back. The design was intricate and so lifelike it seemed almost 3D. Two dragons circled each other nose to tail. The dragon at the top was Zenbaylan—Rye’s scaled partner—and the dragon at the bottom was Fellescend, partner to Dev.

  Dev had the same tattoo on his back, only in reverse order. All the Enforcers wore the image of their dragon and their dragon’s mate on their backs, and it was as much a part of who they were as their weird hair and outlandish coloring.

  Rye turned back to the table and looked her up and down, noting the silk pants and tunic she wore. Her whole body went on alert under the weight of his assessing gaze and she prayed her nipples weren’t showing through her tunic.

  “Staying at home today?” he asked, his lavender-colored eyes drifting down to her breasts.

  Tansy pulled out the chair and sat down, casually crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes, the other girls are coming over later on this morning, if that’s all right with you.”

  The “other girls” included her fellow former captives Sara, Kate, Mackenzie and Sorcha. The group also included the most important person in Tansy’s new world, her best friend and sister of the heart, Chelsea. They’d grown up together, an integral part of each other’s families and inseparable except for the six years Tansy had served in the Australian army. They’d been out at the movies the night they were kidnapped, and when they’d awoken on the alien ship they’d assumed they’d stick together. But during the transfer to Gemarra, Tansy had been taken to Allsgate while her best friend had been freed by the Enforcers.

  When the last plate was on the table, Rye took a seat next to Dev, placing both males on the opposite side of the table to her. “We like having you in our home,” Rye said. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you wish, and your friends are welcome too. You have no need to ask.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lowering her head, she picked up her utensils and began to eat, concentrating on her food and not the two extraordinary men whose table she shared. As usual they were polite, courteous, considerate…and difficult to read.

  Since her libido had come back online, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from sneaking glances at them, from straining to hear their voices or imagining what they looked like naked. After the physical and emotional torture she’d endured at the hands of Councilor Willersby Lockmehdyhn, it was a miracle she was attracted to any man. The fact that she was actively fantasizing made her want to jump for joy—and squirm with uncertainty. She was happy her body was getting back to normal, and Rye and Dev were warriors to the bone—big, scary and competent—which made them just her type. It was deciding what to do about it that was making her itch.

  She’d been doing a lot of thinking this past week, especially at night while she lay in bed alone while Dev and Rye bunked together. Tansy had spent two months in a living hell, being tortured and raped both physically and emotionally. She needed time to heal, she knew that, but Dev and Rye felt safe to her in a way no one else ever had. And they were alien-looking enough, and big enough, not to remind her of that bastard Willersby Lockmehdyhn in any way. Her tormenter had been a paunchy, pompus, callous bastard whom she could have flattened in a fair fight. But men like Willersby didn’t get what they wanted by being fair or honorable. Which made him the polar opposite of her Enforcers.

  Dev and Rye were warriors in the truest sense, right down to marrow of their bones. Tansy came from a military family, so she understood Dev and Rye on a level that was built into her DNA. Her dad had served in the first Gulf War, her brothers were both career military, and of course there was her own service.

  Despite the fact that they weren’t human, Dev and Rye were the kind of males she understood. And trusted. Or at least her body trusted them, even if her emotions were still confused. To cloud the issue even further, she sometimes caught them looking at her with heat in their eyes. Unfortunately, the moment they realized they had her attention, they changed their expression to one of benign friendship.

  So the three of them danced around one another, being polite and careful. As a consequence Tansy suffered random emotional swings, from self-pity to numbness to anger, past the dangerous detour of arousal and back to self-pity again. She heaved a pathetic sigh and didn’t realize how deeply she’d slumped into her chair until she felt a large, hot hand on her back.

  “Tansy, are you all right?”

  She took a breath, forced some steel into her spine and lifted her eyes to Dev’s ice-blue gaze. “Yes, mostly. I’m just jumbled up inside.”

  “Of course you are.” That searing hand slowly circled over her upper back and Tansy resisted the urge to lean in to him. “It takes time to recover from any trauma, and you’ve had to deal with events no woman should ever endure.” His voice dropped to a low rumble, and she shivered as it brushed over her skin. “You’ve been so brave. We’re both so proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “We’re here to help you. Whatever you need.”

  She nodded. She hoped that offer was genuine, because she had a feeling she was on her way to asking them for something they might not be ready to give.

  * * * * *

  An hour later Dev walked down two flights of stairs with Rye at his shoulder. The den housed over three hundred battle dragons and their riders, and they trained almost every day. Sometimes they broke into their flights—small groups of ten to fifteen—and at others the entire den participated in a mock battle. On other days, like today, training involved the mind not the body. Dev was looking forward to the upcoming strategy session.

  He and Rye strode along several corridors before coming to a halt at the lift doors. Dev reached out and pulled a lever and then they both stood back to wait.

  The lifts in the den relied on a complicated system of pulleys and counterweights that only an engineer could understand. The technology so prevalent in the northern hemisphere was almost useless on Ivasta because of the ion storms that occurred more days than not. Even a small storm could shut down an electrical current, so something as simple as using a hover became a life-or-death proposition.

  Ivasta’s four major settlements were sparsely populated, but the people who did live on the southern continent knew how to adapt. Dev had been to the other side of their planet, he’d visited the hi-tech city of Allsgate and he’d seen firsthand the uses those people had for their gadgets and machines. He stepped into the pulley-driven lift with a smirk, silently acknowledging that the Ivastan alchemists and engineers had invented some pretty good gadgets of their own.

  Rye stepped in beside him, but instead of waiting quietly for the lift to descend, he moved restlessly from foot to foot. Dev took one look at his denmate’s expression and knew he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

  Rye’s eyes were a little wild when he turned to speak. “We need to do something about Tansy.”

  No surprise there. Rye was a male who preferred action over any other strategy and he’d never met a problem he didn’t want to beat to a pulp.

  Dev turned to lean his shoulder against the lift wall. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” Rye turned to mirror his position, standing close. “But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel her pain, and I can’t keep treating her like nothing more than a temporary houseguest.”

  “But that’s what she is.”

  “No—”

  The lift stopped and the door was pulled open to reveal four Enforcers waiting to go down. Dev shook his head as he closed the doors. “Get the next one.”

  The other dragon riders weren’t happy, but Dev was one of only four captains in the den and very few riders had the balls to challenge him. The lift continued to rattle downward and Dev resumed his leaning position and the conversation.

  “Tansy needs somew
here safe to stay and we can provide that for her. And we need to find out who tried to kill Sorcha.”

  Their den commander and his denmate had taken Sorcha for their own, and it was her kidnapping that had led the Enforcers to Tansy and the other women they’d saved. The man who took Sorcha had been killed during the rescue, so a third party had come after Sorcha and tried to poison her. The trouble was, the Enforcers didn’t know whether the attempt on Sorcha’s life had been personal or whether it had been aimed at the Earth females as a group.

  Dev folded his arms across his chest. “Once we’re sure nobody’s coming after the other women we rescued, Tansy will go back to town and try to build a life.”

  “With what?” Rye asked, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face. “All her friends are here. She has no family to support her. If we don’t take care of her, who will?”

  Dev knew it wasn’t that simple, although he wished it were. “She might not want us to take care of her. She’s been traumatized, raped, beaten and who knows what else. It’s quite likely that once the immediate threat is gone she’ll race out of the den like her skirts are on fire.”

  Rye grunted. “If only she wore skirts. Those outfits she wears around the den don’t leave enough to the imagination.”

  That was true. Tansy’s strong limbs and subtle curves had fueled many a fantasy for both Enforcers. “Your imagination doesn’t need any help. You jerk off often enough as it is.”

  “I can’t help it.” Rye’s smile was grim. “Every time I get a hint of her scent it goes straight to my cock.”

  Unfortunately Rye wasn’t alone in that particular situation. Dev’s hand was getting such hard use he was surprised he had any skin left on his palm.

  He sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. “I think what she needs most from us is time.”

  Rye placed a heavy hand on Dev’s shoulder. “You’d better be right, my brother. Because if I’ve been sitting on my hands when she’d rather we made a move, I will personally break every bone in your wrong-call body.”

  Dev acknowledged the threat with a nod. “I’ll consider myself on notice.”

  The trouble was that Dev was as clueless as Rye. He didn’t know what Tansy needed—he was simply relying on instinct and his desire to do the right thing. Hopefully when their houseguest was ready she would come to them and ask them for what she wanted. And with any luck, they’d be able to give it to her.

  Chapter Two

  Tansy curled up on the sofa with a pen and paper, scribbling out her thoughts and feelings, trying to sift through the crap without digging too deeply into the experiences that had created them. She was determined to face what had happened to her and to find a way to get past it. What she didn’t need was a day-by-day inventory of the pain and degradation she’d suffered. So she tried, with varying degrees of success, to separate her emotions from the events that had created them. Writing down her feelings was a trick her mother had taught her from a very young age. She was firm in the conviction that once those emotions were out of her body and on the page, their power to hurt was greatly diminished.

  Tansy had scribbled herself stupid, but she was under no illusions about how hard her road to recovery was going to be. She was on her fourth page and starting to flag when she was given a very welcome distraction.

  With a pop and a shower of mid-air sparks, her little friend Oskaal appeared. He was average size for a dragonet, about three meters long from nose to tail, and his particular color scheme ranged from bright gold to dark chocolate. The sun danced across his scales in a river of sparkles and the lower edge of his wing membrane was embellished with fluted ovals that resembled the design of a peacock feather. He was fine-boned, appearing more seahorse than dragon, and he loved nothing more than to curl up in her lap and be stroked to sleep.

  All the Earth women living in the den had been assigned a dragonet companion. They couldn’t talk mind-to-mind like the battle dragons, but the dragonets could pop in and out at a moment’s notice and run messages. Tansy had been told that if a dragonet spent enough time with a person they could track him or her anywhere on Gemarra. The Enforcers thought the dragonets were a good insurance policy—in fact they’d already saved Sorcha’s life—but Tansy valued Oskaal most for his company. He was smart, interactive and entirely without judgment. He was the perfect cross between a friend and a pet.

  Oskaal flew down to the couch and pushed the notepad out of her hands, cramming himself onto her lap and giving an impatient trill. He was determined to be petted to sleep, and Tansy was happy to oblige him, sweeping her hand down the length of his back from head to tail. He shuddered with pleasure, a steady purr rolling in his chest. The vibration and heat from the dragonet acted like a soporific and Tansy could feel herself relaxing. Her mind fell quiet and she sank back onto the couch, the tension draining out of her body.

  When Sorcha called out to announce her presence, Tansy was slow to rouse. Oskaal had no such problems. His purring stopped and he jerked himself to his feet. Standing half on the couch and half on Tansy, he glared at the doorway.

  Tansy smiled in welcome as Sorcha entered the room, but Oskaal sent a mean and deliberate hiss her way. The dragonet was clearly unhappy to have his nap time interrupted.

  Sorcha’s smile was equally mean. Her bright-red hair flowed free to her waist and her pale-green eyes sparked when she looked at Oskaal. She stalked across the room, the elegant motion of her body given power when she fixed her hand on her hips. Tansy stroked her hands over the grumpy dragonet, knowing he’d lost this battle before it even started.

  “Good morning, Oskaal,” Sorcha said, baring her teeth. “Would you like to be civil or would you like me to explain to Tengale how you growled at me and hurt my feelings?”

  Poor Oskaal squeaked, shot into the air and disappeared with a hasty pop.

  A laughing Sorcha dusted off her hands. “And that’s what happens when the biggest, meanest dragon in the den claims you as his pet.” She fell onto the couch next to Tansy. “It’s good to be me.”

  Tansy chuckled. Sorcha was a powerhouse in her own right. With the weight of the two senior dragons in the den behind her, she got her own way more often than not. Even her mates gave in to her, though not always with good grace. One of Sorcha’s husbands, Jaxmyre Randovar, was the den commander and he didn’t like being told what to do by anybody. Kaelum Sentrellovere, her other husband, was a sweet, generous man who seemed to be the peacemaker of their family.

  Jax and Kae’s battle dragons, Tengale and Jaysada, had firmly and irrevocably claimed Sorcha as their pet, and the fiery Bostonian had no qualms about throwing Tengale’s weight around.

  Sorcha slapped the couch cushion. “So, koala girl, are you ready for your dragon-talking lesson?”

  “Koala girl?” Tansy couldn’t help cracking a smile despite the hokey nickname.

  “Yep. As you are one of only two Aussies in our little community, I want to be culturally sensitive.”

  Tansy snorted. Sensitive her ass. Sorcha grinned and kept talking. “I call Chelsea kangaroo girl, so that one’s taken, but koalas are cute. Right?”

  Only if you’d never heard them grunting and squealing in the middle of the night. Tansy’s dad loved camping and insisted that it bonded the family. He particularly enjoyed the rustic, natural appeal of bush campsites with no facilities. After learning to dig a hole to go to the bathroom, koalas had been the least of her childhood worries.

  Tansy refrained from enlightening her American friend on the realities of wildlife in the Australian bush. Instead she chose to focus on her Concern of the Moment—because god knew, she had plenty to choose from.

  “About the dragon-talking thing,” Tansy said, half tempted to simply nix the idea altogether. “I’m not sure I want a den full of scary and scaly blabbing away inside my mind.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Sorcha shuddered. “I wouldn’t want that either. But you can relax—only Fellescend and Zenbaylan will communicate with you.” She winked in
a way that wasn’t reassuring and Tansy could almost feel herself being railroaded.

  Sorcha sailed on, oblivious. “Usually the blacks won’t talk to anyone but the two Enforcers they’re partnered with. Happily—or unhappily—for us, the ones who carried us back from the rescue mission now consider us their pets.” Sorcha pulled a face that suggested that acquisitive claim could go either way. “They’re also very territorial. Tengale and Jaysada will only talk to me, Benmonth and Annlyss will only talk to Chelsea, and Fellescend and Zenbaylan have reserved their privilege for you.”

  Tansy rubbed her eyes, trying to get her head around the idea of talking to someone mind to mind. Or was a dragon something?

  The concept was a two-edged sword, though there was no denying the advantage of scaly communication. If she could “talk” to Dev and Rye’s dragons, it would give her an immeasurable level of security. And as their pet, she would belong in the den regardless of her relationship with Dev and Rye.

  But the downside was her fear of flying. The dragons seemed too arrogant not to call her out if they knew about her phobia. She wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with that on top of everything else she was juggling.

  Unfortunately Sorcha didn’t seem to be in the mood to take no for an answer. And—aside from confessing the truth—Tansy had no real excuse not to commit to a dragony mind meld.

  Deciding to tough it out, Tansy took a deep breath. “So I’ll only have to communicate with Fellescend and Zenbaylan. Nobody else will be in my head.”

  Sorcha’s laugh pealed out. “No, they won’t let anyone else talk to you. And I can assure you two is more than enough to be going on with. Being a dragon’s pet sure has its perks but it’s not all sunshine and champagne.” She gave Tansy a frank look. “They can be kind of irritating, and the arrogance—sweet Mary, you have no idea. But that’s small potatoes compared to the good stuff.”