by Lisa Daniels
Kazak was really talkative now, his face alight, the smile never leaving his face. Marea sat beside him, now stroking his hair, secretly delighted at the idea that he'd stopped himself from killing a Quester. For her.
He turned to face her, green eyes glowing. “Did you see me, though?”
“Well, up until the point when you conjured up the impenetrable cloud of darkness, yes,” Marea said, now settling into the bed next to him. “I'm sure it must have been impressive.”
“Probably.” On sudden impulse, Kazak turned and kissed her fully on the lips. Not a dainty, nice one, but a full one grab of her cheeks and a suck that made it feel like he was trying to draw all the air from her lungs, before he released her, laughing exuberantly. “We should feast tonight! I'll send invitations to some of the others over the mountains, and we can celebrate the event of your first Quester!”
Dragons are weird, Marea thought, slightly disorientated from his effort at sucking the soul out of her body. She couldn't help but smile along with him, though.
Chapter Five
Am I even a princess, anymore? Marea twirled in front of the mirror Kazak had procured, checking out the first dress she'd been given since her confinement in the tower. The more she had cleaned, the more she realized that it served as nothing more than a distraction for her, to keep her busy so she didn't grow bored out of her mind, or plot too strongly about escaping. According to Kazak, he said the dragon manual of How to Keep Your Princess recommended extensive chores, as well as the basic locked tower, and to trim princess hair every now and then so she couldn't use it as a ropeladder. Also, to keep potions of extreme grow and shrink away from them.
The dress shimmered a deep yellow, holding a glossy shine with her glittering blonde hair. Frills and a tight bodice pushed out her chest, making it seem like she had substance there. After a long, hot bath, she'd brushed out her hair until it glimmered, and picked out a sapphire necklace from Kazak's treasury (she hadn't yet seen his treasures, understandable, since dragons tended to hoard a lot.)
One month after Marea’s first Quester, nine more had come along, all of them beaten in a similar manner to the first. Since Kazak had defeated ten Questers, he'd been rewarded formally by a dragon king.
A Dragon king. Apparently, dragons liked to celebrate achievements, and Kazak had messengers turning up outside his cavern to shower him in gifts. More gold, special enchantments, and a formal invite to the king's table in their annual convention.
That sort of thing.
Kazak bought Marea a dress, inviting her to try it on, and now she felt awkward, standing in front of the mirror, closer to the princess she used to be.
Except, she didn't feel like that person any longer. Gone was the woman who felt misshapen and off because she didn't have a husband near the age of thirty. Gone was the jealously and envy towards the servants, for their skill sets and their simpler lifestyles.
Ever since Kazak whisked her away, she'd grown callouses over her hands, and a new hardness about her features. Kazak now left her tower door open, no longer bothering to lock her in, because he saw the light in her face as she appreciated the freedom. She went to his bed in the night, or he to hers. She still didn't know much about dragon society, but he'd promised to take her along with him when he next went to visit the witch of the swamp, and when he needed to check in at the goblin general store to procure new curses.
Marea understood partially why some princesses never returned to their kingdoms after being stolen. Not because they got eaten, but perhaps they learned to fall in love with the peculiar creatures, with their own brand of morality and their irritatingly attractive human forms.
Deeming herself of acceptable appearance, though her eyes seemed too dark for her liking, she ventured down the stairwell, and met Kazak in the main cavern room with the feasting tables, dressed up in a neat black and white suit, smiling radiantly at her appearance. He looked so powerful there, owning the room with his presence, his squared, strong body and rugged features. Though he kept his red beard neatly trimmed, he'd been growing it out a bit, leaving a growth that gave him a rough look to his handsome features.
He held out his arm to her. “Shall we go, milady?”
She looped her arm in his and grinned. “Anything for you, sir.”
All they did, really, was go for a stroll down the mountain path, exploring some of the vibrant scenery there, from the blushing pink flowers to the scraggly ferns that clung to the edges.
“I must say, princess, with that outfit, your beauty could kill.” He bent to kiss her hand, eyes flaming with desire and admiration. She flushed with pleasure from the flattery, feeling confident and beautiful. When they approached a tough cliff edge, Kazak pointed in the distance, to where the human kingdoms stuck out of the land beyond the Wilderness.
“Your home is over there,” he said, pointing to a small city, where the distant castle was the size of her fingernail.
She expected to feel sadness and longing for Glenderal. Instead, she felt nothing. No sadness. No heavy desire to return home. She had no taste for that life again of constant judgement, competing with other princes and princesses far more accomplished than she ever was.
Being a dragon's princess meant more to her than anything else.
How strange.
Kazak watched her expression for a long moment. “You might have a hard time being rescued, princess. I plan to cherish you for as long as possible, and to fight every Quester in your name.”
“I hope you will,” Marea replied, grinning. “But if you want me sticking around, I’d like you to decorate the place better. It’s awfully drab with the gray and the lack of seating areas.”
“That can be arranged,” he said. He bowed to her hand and kissed the back of it, his lips soft and hot against her skin. A pleasant shiver travelled up her body.
“Shall we go home then, princess?”
Home. I like the sound of that.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go home.”
She kissed him upon the lips, and he lifted her off her feet, twirling her around, before slinging her over his shoulder, and sprinting for the cave.
She laughed the whole while, her dress billowing in the wind, clutching her new love close.
The End
Tia’s Mate
Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline
Prologue:
Blood. Blood, everywhere. Hands swimming in it, the floor saturated with the iron tang of rusting death. It clings to his pants and shoelaces, finding all the impossible places, making him feel as if he would never be clean again. The boy wants to be anywhere but here. The mocking eyes of his father watch him as he backs into the corner, away from the male corpse splayed out on the floor, head turned toward the boy with eyes like clouded green glass.
“Come on, boy,” his father urges, mouth twisted like a grinning demon. “How are you gonna learn to like the taste if you’re too scared to take the first step?”
The boy shakes his head, shivering. That man with the empty green eyes, he had been alive only moments before. “He was alive. I spoke to him. He was scared.”
“And now he’s dead. Useless whelp,” his father snarls, yellow eyes gleaming as his son turns away. He strides up in a swoop of malice, and seizes the trembling boy by the cuff of his neck, shoving his face into the pooling blood of the freshly killed human. “Eat!” A manic expression enters his father’s face. His fingernails lengthen, his canines become that little bit longer. Passion is leaking, the emotions manifesting in physical form.
The boy trembles and cries, as he is forced to bring his mouth to the dead man, and tear into his skin, resisting the urge to retch the whole time.
Chapter One
Tia locked gazes with a man across the bar. He was sprawled out on a black leather stool in a white shirt and blue jeans, not dressed to kill, but as if he had rolled out of work and walked straight in. In the orange light, under tufted, messy iron gray hair, protruded amber eyes, which made Ti
a blink, and investigate the odd combination of color. She contemplated whether he was faking the whole appearance, with contacts rammed over his irises and hair dyed in the rebel manner of teenagers acting out against their bonds. She estimated his age to hover around the thirty mark, noted the casual button shirt, still trying to figure out if she found him handsome or pretentious.
Certainly, there was something there, brooding under the fathomless features. Despite the much hotter women to his left, baring a scandalous amount of flesh, he focused only on Tia Winters.
The lights in the bar deepened to a violent red, and heavy rock music blared out the overhead speakers. Those already on the dance floor spasm faster to the beat of the music, and others pushed past Tia and Anna in a scream of noise and laughter, all deciding at once to grind their sweating, heat trapped bodies on the floor. One man spilt his foaming yellow drink on someone who had no right to the amount of muscle on his broad-shouldered frame. It made Tia think of the image of a gorilla in a suit, and the image brought a smirk to her face. The larger, bald man proceeded to beat the absolute shit out of the drink-spiller, which drew her attention away from the stranger with the unusual colorings, and a face smeared crimson by splotched lighting.
Anna watched as well, and tapped Tia’s drink closer to the edge of the table, prompting her to pick it up. “Hey, Tia. Totally saw you checking out the fake hair dude over there,” she stated, slurping her drink in a manner that would make Tia’s father turn in his alcohol soaked grave. “You could do worse. Gonna try for him?”
Tia shrugged casual dismissal, and ran a hand through her thick dark hair. “I probably won’t.”
“Why not?” Anna asked, genuinely curious. Of course, they both had come here for one thing and one thing only – the chance to get lucky. Anna had recently broken up with her boyfriend and had been practically clawing at Tia to be the honorary wing-woman – though she didn’t have anyone trapped in her sights. Any man would do, as long as they were reasonably good looking and could hold sentences longer than three syllables.
Tia preferred keeping it simple. She was quite the fan of an uncomplicated life, though Anna argued it was because Tia hadn’t met the right man, or she tended to scare people away with dead baby jokes. Tia conceded she was probably right on that score, but still thought anything could be funny in the right context. In the seedy haze of the nightclub, Tia examined her blonde-haired friend, who hid a depressed mind under mascara and a wide smile. Although she insisted she was here to get Tia out of the house, in truth, Tia was here for Anna, to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, or hook up with the wrong sort of guy. She considered it friendly and saintly duties.
“Well,” Anna said, once more slurping at her drink, “he’s coming over. If you don’t go for it, I will.”
“Fine,” Tia said, rolling her eyes, but feeling a thrill of excitement course inside. “Since I did the soul-searching eye exchange, I’ll deal with him.” What Tia had to look forward to back home was a cold apartment, where she was stuck within the crumbling walls of a place for which she barely made the rent every month from hour based retail work. She had the independence, but it went hand in hand with a smash of loneliness. Prices had to be paid.
The gray haired man weaved through the thong of people fishing for new drinks from the bar and up to Tia and Anna. Paying little regard to Anna, he examined Tia with those peculiar amber eyes. He smiled wolfishly, pulling Tia’s attention in further, finding the expression mesmerizing on a level. Anna, of course, flicked back her blonde hair and puffed out her substantial chest, but he continued to ignore her.
Eventually, Tia cleared her throat. “Are you going to introduce yourself or stand there awkwardly?” She plumped some sass in there, with a healthy dose of eyebrow raising.
His lips curled at the corners, revealing jagged canines. “Danny. And you?” He slid into a spare seat by the women. Anna glowered, a little put out, though true to her nature, she gave Tia a wink, before scouring the crowd for any other potential men to hook up with.
“Tia.” When he reached out a hand to shake, Tia took it. She noticed that his nostrils were flared, every now and then making sharp inhales, as if absorbing the scent of everything around. Several questions sprang to mind. “Is that hair for real or are you just a fan of the color?” she said, not sure if she would believe him, even if he said yes.
“Real. So are the eyes,” he confirmed, before politely enquiring for Anna’s name as well. Tia liked the sound of his voice, a musical baritone with a hint of gruffness to it. She liked the way he looked at her, attention flickering from top to bottom, the fascination shown in his leaning forward body language, though she couldn’t exactly tell why. There were plenty other choices, and far more attractive women willing to give everything in a night. Maybe he appreciated the way Tia wasn’t trying to thrust her breasts into his face, like Anna preferred in her man-snaring methods. Or perhaps, it was because of Tia’s charming personality. Of course, sometimes Tia could do with some extra lessons, and with less inappropriately timed jokes, but she wasn’t about to turn the guy away at a whim. Shivers rippled through her spine at the presence of him, and the strong, pine needle scent emanating from his skin. She detected a kind of field around him, something that naturally attracted and repelled at the same time. It was hard to describe how it worked or felt, only that Tia knew that there was something about him scratching at her subconscious. The eyes, though they crinkled at the corners just right, seemed cold and apathetic, even as he flirted and smiled.
Danger, Tia thought. The primal instincts of her brain stirred. This man reeks of danger.
“I can’t place your accent,” Tia continued, shortly after the man had seized drinks from the bar to share with her. Anna, at this point, with a hug and a whisper in her ear to stay safe and enjoy the romp, had advanced onto the dancefloor, under the neon lights, joining the grinding mass. “But, then again, what would I know about accents? I’ve never even made it out of the state of Virginia.”
“Really?” Danny acted surprised. The drink of choice was something Tia had never tried before, and it sported a strong, cherry aftertaste.
“Never.”
“You’re missing out, then! There’s an entire planet with amazing things and people. Some people, not so much. Is normal, though. Depends on the places you pick.” He drank a long draught of his drink. “This is Belgian beer. Cherry flavored. Belgium is quite famous for it. I went to Bruges, once. Magnificent city. If you ever travel, I recommend you go there. I can show you pictures on my phone…” He started thumbing through his cellphone, making Tia smile as he gestured for her to peer over his shoulder at the glitter of buildings and lights. Most of the designs made her think of the gingerbread house from Hansel and Gretel, as they held that same, edible look. Despite the initial reservations she had about him and the cold glint of his eyes, she liked how emphatically he talked about the places he had seen, insisting she shouldn’t limit herself. He put his phone away, not wanting to be attached to it rather than miss out talking to her. He eventually admitted that he came from Bulgaria – a place Tia had only ever thought about when it was mentioned as a Quidditch team in Harry Potter.
Maybe I was mistaken about the danger. Or maybe I wasn’t. She kept on the cautious mask, in the meanwhile switching between her conversation with the charming Danny and making sure Anna wasn’t making a fool out of herself. Thankfully, her best friend was not snogging the face off anyone yet, and had instead fallen in what appeared to be engaging discussion between her and a short-haired girl with high cheekbones and pixie-like curves.
“Do you think I’m ignorant for never having traveled, Danny?” Tia bombed the question. In his place, she thought she would, but she wanted to know his response.
“Well…” Danny gave a shrug. “Yes. I think those who do not see the world limit their minds. But that is not to say I haven’t seen travelers with closed thoughts as well. But, is more likely. So why? Why stay in one place?”
The honesty was refreshing. It prompted Tia further, down the path she felt most comfortable with, but what Anna insisted was terrible social manner. Tia didn’t think her manner uncomfortable. She just preferred honesty. More honesty than strictly necessary, perhaps, but Tia strongly believed the world would be a much better place if people admitted to things more often.
“My mom’s a druggie, my dad was an alkie, and my brother’s the biggest redneck you could ever imagine. Let’s just say that between them, I had to grow up pretty fast and snag myself a job so I could move the hell out. I’ve just honestly not given the outside world long enough thought past working my job, scouring internet at home, and dealing with my best friend over there.” Tia jerked her thumb at Anna, who was now laughing uproariously with the short-haired woman.
The Bulgarian took a moment to process the words, before nodding. “Bad parents.”
“Mm. Happens. Not much we can do about it growing up. They’re everything, you know.”
The ghost of an expression flitted over Danny’s face. “Yes. We unconditionally love our parents.”
“That’s right. We don’t see what’s wrong. And if there is something wrong, we don’t understand it. It’s only later we have a choice. You can’t always help what happens to you. You can choose how it defines you later. And I,” Tia announced proudly, taking another sip of the cherry beer, “Do not let it define me as a victim. Simple.”
Danny nodded along to her words, apparently rapt. Hastily, he raised his drink. “Good thinking. I must say, I find you a little more interesting than expected. Is not so often to hear this for me. Is almost a shame you have not given thought to travel.” He glanced down to the pocket where his cellphone buzzed. After a moment’s hesitation, his eyes shifted into a glint of resolve. “You should explore the world. You really should. You will have time. Maybe,” he said with a soft smile, “You ever want to come to Europe, you can call my number. I show you the best places.”