The Dragon’s Flight: Gay Paranormal Romance

by Clearwater, Julian

  It sent his own stomach rolling with sickness at the thought, the clear message being sent. Though it was jagged and difficult to make out, the words carved in Rick’s skin were unmistakable. You’re next.

  If Daryl had stayed far away from Rick, Rick would probably be okay right now. Daryl bit his lip, swallowing the remorseful cry that threatened to spill free. This was no time for him to feel sorry for himself, and though he knew he had only a fraction of a chance of saving Rick, he was going to do his damnedest. He ripped open another box, relieved to see his first aid bag sitting neatly on top. He grabbed the bag and rushed back into the living area, only to find Rick lying silent on his couch. He gasped, lurching forward to feel for a pulse again. It was faint, a slight fluttering beneath the skin of Rick’s wrist.

  He moved quickly. The bottle of antiseptic was cool against his palm, and he splashed some out to wash out what he could of the wounds. It was something of a blessing that Rick had fallen unconscious, as the agony from cleaning the wounds would likely be too much to bear.

  Daryl worked steadily and efficiently, repairing what damage his small amount of knowledge would allow. He could have likely done more if he had the proper supplies, but there was no denying that what Rick really needed was a hospital.

  He weighed the options of simply carrying the unconscious man to the nearest health facility, but the thought of the crime lord who had caused this injury gave him pause. He had only been seen in public with Rick for a fraction of a moment, yet somehow Jim Hawthorne knew about their budding friendship…if it could have even been called that. Now, however, now he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to truly know the man lying bleeding on his sofa.

  He closed his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath before going about sorting his supplies back in his bag. There was little more he could do regarding the injuries—the cuts had been cleaned and stitched, the bones set as closely as he could manage. All that was left to do was wait for Rick to wake up, if he ever did.

  Daryl shook off that thought, rising to his feet and shuffling into the bathroom. He washed the other man’s blood from his skin and pulled his shirt off over his head. He would have to thoroughly bleach his clothes, but that seemed unimportant for the time being. He slipped out of the bathroom, glancing to Rick for the briefest of moments before continuing to the kitchen. At the very least, he could have a warm meal prepared for the two of them if Rick woke up. When. When Rick woke up, he mentally corrected himself.

  He grabbed a couple of steaks from his freezer, popping them in the microwave to thaw. While the microwave did its work, Daryl opened the door to his back deck, moving to start up his grill. He hadn’t had the chance to use the grill yet, really hadn’t had any reason. He twisted the knobs to the correct settings, busying himself with the menial tasks of preparing food to distract himself from the sheer travesty that had taken place. He felt as if he were worthless, as if nothing he could do would make the situation any better. All he could do was slap a bandage on Rick and carry on with his own daily routine.

  The reality of the situation had settled unpleasantly in his stomach, however, and it was impossible to ignore. If Rick survived, he had a long road of recovery ahead of him. Daryl also held little doubt as to whether the crime lord would follow through on his vow to kill him next. At the very least, attempt to kill him.

  He couldn’t help but quirk a bitter smile, knowing they would have a much harder time than they anticipated. He glanced inside, making sure Rick was still settled on the couch. Rick was beginning to stir, and Daryl’s heart pounded almost painfully in his chest as he swiftly shuffled away from the grill.

  He stepped back into the house, rushing over to the sofa and helping Rick sit a bit more upright. Rick groaned with every movement, seeming only vaguely aware of Daryl’s presence. Once he seemed to get in his right mind, however, his eyes widened as he looked Daryl up and down.

  “And I thought you looked good in the uniform,” Rick muttered to himself.

  Daryl felt his cheeks redden, but otherwise pretended not to hear the comment. He straightened, awkwardly rubbing his neck as he considered his words. “I made food. It probably would have made more sense to make you something soft, but this was what I had.”

  “I smelled steak. I think…I think it was steak. Was it? Please tell me it was steak,” Rick said, his eyes alight with excitement.

  Daryl was slightly put off by how quickly the other man’s mood had recovered, but he supposed he would be rather thrilled by the prospect of a steak dinner, were their roles reversed.

  “It’s steak. I have potatoes baking in the oven, and some corn on the grill as well. I hope you’re hungry.” Daryl grinned.

  “Yay!” Rick clapped his hands together, only to wince immediately after.

  “Save the theatrics, I can tell you’re excited,” Daryl teased, slipping away from the couch. He could feel Rick’s eyes following his every move, and he couldn’t help but put the slightest bit of saunter in his step. He knew the morality of the situation was growing vaguely skewed, but he couldn’t miss the obvious desire radiating from Rick’s body. Truth be told, he would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was harboring a slight crush of his own, but he knew he couldn’t act on it. It was bad enough that he had gotten Rick into this situation; pursuing Rick could only make things worse for both of them. Still…

  He fixed a plate for Rick, humming to himself as he worked. There was something nice about the thought that he was preparing dinner for a boyfriend. He had been alone for so many years, had never let anyone grow particularly close. He always thought his emotions were stunted when he never developed crushes on girls. Then he thought there was something entirely wrong with the crush he’d had on his undeniably male mentor. He’d come to terms with his sexuality some time ago, but he’d never had feelings for someone. Though he couldn’t pursue them, it was nice to actually feel, for once.

  He carried the plate into the living area, setting up a dinner tray in front of Rick. Rick stared at the food, seeming to nearly salivate at the sight.

  “Dig in, and get used to my wonderful cooking skills. You’re going to be staying with me for a while.” Daryl smiled as Rick looked at him with obvious disbelief.

  “W-what? Staying here? But, wouldn’t that be dangerous?” Rick fidgeted with his fork.

  Daryl chuckled, reaching out to mess up the other man’s hair. “Oh, you don’t think you’d be safe in the company of a big strong policeman?”

  Rick smiled and his cheeks turned a cute shade of pink. “I meant, dangerous for you. I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of me.”

  Daryl moved his hand from the top of Rick’s head to his shoulder. He waited until Rick met his gaze, then spoke firmly to indicate that there was no room for argument. “I told you that I would take care of you, and I very well plan to keep my promise.”

  Rick struggled to speak, managing to sputter out some words of thanks.

  Daryl quirked his lips in a grin, realizing just how adorable Rick was. He knew it was a dangerous road to go down, but it couldn’t hurt to play house just for a little while. “Eat up. Then I’m giving you a bath.”

  Daryl went into the kitchen to fix his own plate, but he watched from the corner of his eye as Rick hesitated a moment longer before digging into the feast that had been laid before him. A sensation of warmth settled in Daryl’s chest, and he knew all at once that he was making the right decision. Though this arrangement had the potential to be dangerous for both of them, he was confident that he could take care of any trouble that reared its ugly head. Rick deserved to be taken care of, he knew that much for certain. It also helped that until Rick recovered, Daryl would be the one giving him baths. Daryl’s cock grew hard at the lewd thought, and he averted his gaze when Rick glanced toward him.

  After the troubles the two men had experienced, Daryl couldn’t help feeling that there could be nothing wrong with finding comfort in each other.

  The days following fou
nd the men growing closer and closer, but it was only a matter of time before Daryl had to return to work. He was reluctant to do so, knowing that he would have to fake ignorance regarding the situation with Big Jim Hawthorne. However, when the day came, he dressed in his freshly ironed uniform. He turned to Rick before stepping out the door.

  Rick watched him from the sofa, having made a rather remarkable recovery but still nursing his wounds somewhat.

  “I’ll be back tonight. I—” Daryl paused, cutting himself off mid-sentence. Though his feelings had only grown in the time they’d spent together, he was still reluctant to give voice to them. Especially considering that Rick may have only felt lust for him. “Be safe,” he finally said, then slipped out the door.

  He made his way to the police department, a feeling of unease settling over him as he drew nearer and nearer the station. The veteran police officers who usually greeted him seemed caught up in something—they were agitated and bickering. Daryl walked past them, stepping into the station to grab his keys and set off on traffic duty.

  “Newbie,” Chief Franklin called out, actually out of his office for once.

  Daryl hesitated, narrowing his eyes at the chief. In spite of what he knew, he had to remain cordial until he figured out how to solve this situation peacefully.

  “Chief,” he said amicably.

  The chief grinned, reaching out to rest a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl struggled not to fidget under his grip, and met the older man’s gaze with feigned confidence.

  “You did so well on traffic duty, we’ve decided to bump you up the ranks a bit,” Chief Franklin said with a sly quirk of his lips. “There’s a drug house on the outskirts of town that we’d like you to bust up. We’ve been doing surveillance, and there should only be one or two meth cooks in the place now. Simple enough to take on yourself, right?”

  Daryl hesitated, weighing his options. Though it was likely that this was some sort of trap, there was still a chance that the chief was oblivious to the information Daryl had been given.

  “I’ll do my best, chief. Thanks for the case,” he said, taking the keys to a cruiser from the chief’s hands and shuffling back outside.

  The veteran officers watched him with wary expressions, looking as if they very much wanted to say something. He nodded in their direction, then walked to the side of the building where the cruisers were kept. He got into his usual car, then shifted it into reverse and pulled out of the lot.

  The drive to the drug house was an uncomfortable one, but he knew he could handle anything a few druggies could throw at him. He parked several blocks away, drawing his gun from his holster as he ventured the final distance to the house. It was a rather nondescript building, and as he approached it, he was startled to hear a fearful cry from the next house over.

  “Help,” a feminine voice screamed.

  He whipped in the direction of the neighboring house. He rushed forward, not even pausing before he kicked the door in. The house seemed empty at first glance, but another scream echoed from the back of the house.

  “Please help me,” the woman cried out.

  He swiftly moved through the house. He made his way to a back bedroom, kicking that door open as well. He was relieved to find the woman curled up in the corner, looking fearful but otherwise unharmed.

  “What’s going on, miss?” Daryl asked, stepping closer to her.

  She continued to quake and sob, and he dropped to a crouch beside her, reaching forward.

  All at once, she jerked upright, aiming a gun at his chest. His heart stilled, and his eyes widened in fear. Her eyes flickered to the doorway behind him, and he realized with a start that they weren’t alone. Though it was painfully clear that he had been set up, there were very real tears streaming down the woman’s cheeks.

  “I’m—I’m sorry,” she blurted, shifting the gun a fraction of an inch and firing a bullet into Daryl’s gut. He was thrown back, and the woman leaped to her feet, bolting from the room. He heard a second pair of footsteps following after her, and he thought to make an attempt to follow them. The pain in his stomach, however, was nearly too much to bear. He ripped his shirt open, relieved to see that the bullet was just lodged in his outer layer of muscle. It hurt like a bitch, but the dragon DNA within him had likely attributed to the bullet not penetrating any deeper. He widened the hole, then ripped the bullet free from his flesh before weakly scrambling to his feet.

  If he had been set up, there was a chance they were raiding his house at that very moment. Oh no, he thought. Rick. Fear pulsed through him. He cared for Rick—maybe even loved him—and it would destroy Daryl if anything happened to Rick. He sprinted back to his car. He was surprised to see it still idling, and he leaped inside, sending the car screaming in the direction of his home. In spite of how suspicious he knew it would appear, he made the sirens blare to part any traffic blocking his way. The trip home was recklessly short, and he lurched out of the car before it had truly even stopped once the house was in sight.

  He was relieved to see that his front door was still closed and the place looked unharmed. That meant they hadn’t made it this far yet. With the adrenaline fading from his body, he managed to shuffle to the door, pushing inside.

  “Rick! Rick, we gotta go,” he called out.

  No response. A sinking sensation washed over him, the feeling growing more intense as he saw a note taped to the coffee table.

  I’m putting an end to this. Once and for all.

  ***

  Rick dragged himself down the busy sidewalks, pain radiating throughout his body with every move he made. The pain was not enough to slow him, however, because his heart was cold and numb with resolve. He’d made a decision, a decision that essentially made him a dead man walking. What did it matter if he was in a little pain, if he would be dead in scarcely an hour anyway? In spite everything, however, there was a sense of peace that accompanied his decision.

  Rick had never planned to get kicked out of his house at fifteen years old. He had never intended to end up on the streets. He had never meant to try and rob the biggest crime lord in the city. He had never meant to wind up on Daryl Jameson’s doorstep with a message etched in his skin. He had never meant for any of this to happen.

  Ultimately, he had never meant to fall in love. His fate had been sealed the moment he laid eyes upon Daryl, however. He never for a moment questioned his feelings for the other man, feeling as if it were his destiny. It seemed a bit of a shitshow that his destiny ended up getting him killed at the ripe age of twenty-five, but at least he had known true happiness in his final days. That’s what he would go out remembering—the confidence he held in his feelings for Daryl.

  It wasn’t that Rick wanted to die, not by any means. He very much wanted to live to see those grandkids he had so often pictured. He knew, however, that as long as Jim Hawthorne was alive, Daryl would forever be endangered. That made his decision a rather easy one to make, even though he knew it would end with his death. It would have been nice to tell Daryl how he felt, how much he had cared for him from the moment they met.

  He doubted that Daryl was one to believe in love at first sight. Daryl was much too cynical for that. It would have been nice to try and convince him to believe otherwise. However, it made things much easier this way. If Daryl knew how Rick felt, it would only be more painful when everything wrapped up. Rick had his time to shed a few tears over his life, he didn’t want Daryl to spend any more time than was necessary.

  Forcing himself back to reality, Rick considered the looming vision of Big Jim Hawthorne’s mansion with a sense of trepidation. Even though he was going into this situation with the knowledge that he wouldn’t come out alive, he couldn’t ignore the fear that shook his body. He swallowed a whimper, creeping forward to examine the house for possible break in points.

  He dropped to his hands and knees as he circled around the house. He overheard people talking through an open window directly in front of him. He held his breath, able to make out the fami
liar voice of Big Jim Hawthorne. The man he was speaking to was entirely unfamiliar, but they seemed to be sharing a laugh over something. He edged closer, able to make out bits and pieces of their conversation.

  “Set up…worked out?”

  “New officer…pretty boy…dead.”

  It was all Rick needed to hear. He nearly collapsed as the implications washed over him, tears streaming down his cheeks as he realized that Daryl was already likely dead. He had no idea where Daryl had been sent, and he had no idea where he could possibly go to attempt to save him. He was helpless. The despair was nearly enough for him to take his own life, but something stopped him. At the very least, he could go out doing something good for this city. He could go out doing what Daryl would have wanted by stopping this crime syndicate.

  Resolved in his decision, he edged closer to the window. He peered inside, watching the men as they walked through the doorway and into another room.

  Rick quietly crawled through the window, keeping close to the floor as he navigated the room. A gun lay on one of the tables, and he picked it up. He knew a little about guns, and he checked to see if it was loaded. It was. He rose to his full height, inhaling a calming breath before cocking the gun.

  The men turned at the sound of the gun cocking, and an overweight man in a police uniform peeked through the door, gun raised. The man started to pull the trigger. Rick immediately fired a bullet between his eyes. He felt sick over taking someone’s life, but it was either that or be killed immediately. Rick had a city to save. A grim sense of satisfaction washed over him as the man dropped to the floor.

  “What the hell,” Big Jim cried out.

  Rick bolted through the doorway with the intent of dropping the other man, if possible. Before he could get past the crooked police officer’s body, however, a bullet pierced his stomach and dropped him as well.

  He hit the ground hard, landing on the body of the man he had just killed.