Fear of Dragon's Fire

by Ella Hart

  My tears flowed harder, whenever I thought about how I’d just skewered all my chances with the guy I’d been in love with for two years. I was a total mess, full on snot-face, when I heard a murmuring out in the forest.

  It sounded like people were way out here in the woods. I moved closer, figuring people would be a better option than getting eaten by wolves.

  Flickering firelight in the distance caught my eye, while sounds of revelry took over the usual peaceful tones of the forest at night. It was quite the party.

  Hell, it was a full on festival. There was a huge number of people out in the woods, all dancing and scream-talking in the firelight. I wondered what morons lit a fire in the woods during the summer, but given I had just ran into the woods, after imagining scales on my hands, I wasn’t in a position to judge.

  I came out into the clearing, lurking at the edge of the crowd, and trying not to gasp like a country hick at what I saw.

  It was like a college party, but even more stupid and dangerous. People were throwing caution (and their clothes) to the wind. It seemed there was a lot of leather, alcohol, and bad decisions all gyrating on top of each other.

  A lot of leather? My weary mind put it all together. It was the biker gang I had seen earlier!

  I got a look at a jacket and realized I wasn’t wrong with my guess. It was a spiraling, serpentine dragon with massive wings, above which I read in medieval-looking letters, “Flamethrowers.”

  Kind of a simplistic name for a dragon, but I guess the general idea was that these guys and gals caused a lot of destruction.

  They were tossing all kinds of shit into the raging flames. A lot of it looked clearly stolen, and everyone’s trash was going into the massive bonfires as well. One guy took a full whiskey bottle and threw it in with a smash, which made a huge roar that everyone cheered along with.

  People were dancing on top of pickup trucks and SUVS in various stages of undress. I saw one girl sloppily fall off a big SUV and then giggle as she tried to stand up out of the mud.

  At least everyone was having a good time. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice me, because they were all focused on their own enjoyment.

  I smelled something wonderful. They were roasting meat on an open flame. From the size and scent of it, it was venison.

  I didn’t know biker gangs also hunted, but I guess there was a lot I didn’t know about this gang, at the time. Such as how literal that “Flamethrowers” name was.

  I walked casually toward the food, my stomach roaring and begging for protein.

  I was almost pushed over by two guys running by me towards a keg, and I regained my balance by grabbing onto the seat of a motorcycle beside me. I looked at the bike and saw a man and a woman wrapped up.

  My face burnt, and I looked away and I hurried away as quickly as I could. I didn’t get a great look, but they sure looked as if they were very, very close at the waist.

  There was no way, right? That they were going at it on a bike in the middle of this party?

  I hurried toward the roasting food, which smelled wonderful enough to kick all images of canoodling bikers out of my head. I was looking around for a fork and plates when a big drop of saliva fell out of my mouth.

  I smelled the air and looked down. A slender hand had pushed a skewer of meat underneath my nose.

  I reached out to grab it, but I wasn’t fast enough. He pulled it away and held it aloft, and I turned, with probably the angriest face I’d ever thrown at a stranger.

  I was staring at the biker from earlier – the one who’d been thrown from his bike and who had winked at us. He grinned, clearly tickled to run into me again and to be taunting someone.

  Firelight flickered against his playful eyes. They were black, but filled with bright light. It was like the joy of living was radiating out of them.

  “Hey,” he said, “You’re the girl who was with that meat-cake earlier.”

  I stared at the skewer in his hands. “Sorry to crash the party, but since I was in the neighborhood, I figured I might as well drop by.”

  He shrugged and said, “The more the merrier. You look hungry.” He twirled the skewer gracefully between his index finger and thumb. The meat’s juice flickered in the firelight.

  I said, “I feel near death, to be honest. Mind handing over the meat before somebody gets hurt?”

  He laughed, and held the skewer back a little farther from me. “What’ll you do for it?” he asked

  I didn’t really get the question. “I’ll pay you, I guess.” I still had my wallet on me, and it was only fair that I give them some cash if I was going to steal their food and intrude on their debauched hospitality.

  He shook his head, “No, not like that. I meant what’ll you do. Like, do.”

  I still didn’t really get it, and then he wiggled his eyebrows at me.

  I groaned. “Gross, dude, I don’t even know you.”

  He said, “Yeah, you do. I’m the guy whose life your boyfriend saved earlier. I’d say that makes us, like, dating-in-laws.”

  I said, “Dating in-laws does sound like something they do here in Montana. But your life wasn’t saved. You tried to kiss Blake. Who isn’t my boyfriend, by the way.”

  I felt a twinge of pain in my chest.

  I continued, probably only speaking aloud because I was too tired to filter myself, “And he’s never going to be.”

  He said, “Sounds sad”. And then he wrapped his mouth around the meat on the skewer, letting his lips close softly together, before pulling off a huge chunk slowly, making a big show of taking it into his mouth and chewing with gusto.

  When he swallowed, loudly, he licked his lips slowly, before looking straight at me. Then he bit his lip, blissful, and shut his eyes.

  His lips looked wet. Plump. Delicious.

  I said, “I swear to God, if you don’t give me something to eat, I’m going to go cannibal in the middle of your nice party.”

  He grinned. “Promise?”

  But he wasn’t dumb. He handed me the skewer, and got started making me another one.

  Chapter Five

  It turns out he went by CC, and he was none other than the leader of the gang. As I hung out with him and ate and drank whatever he passed into my hands, people approached him with questions and problems, and sometimes he’d answer cryptically, but a lot of the time he just nodded or shook his head quickly and they’d walk away again.

  Even with all the craziness around us, he kept focused on me. We’d drift in and out of conversations, and even when we were listening to someone else talk, he’d shoot me conspiratorial looks and funny glances, as if we were the only two people who really got the joke.

  I didn’t get why he was being so friendly to me, until we were seated on a tree stump with a group of people listening to this wasted guy sitting on his ass in the dirt. He was talking about the first time he ever saw breasts, in person. While the subject matter wouldn’t usually interest me, the punchline was that as soon as the girl whipped them out, all of the smooth preparation he’d done in his head went out the window, and he actually booked it away from the car – his car – which he had to go back the next morning to pick up from in front of her parent’s place.

  I was very drunk, and this was genuinely hilarious. The image of this big burly biker as a twelve-year-old who was scared of boobs was killing me.

  CC was cracking up, as well, and I looked at him. That big grin was killing me, too. It was a movie star grin, a “nothing has ever been wrong over here, we’re all having a good time” grin.

  He leaned toward me, as if he needed support, because he was laughing so hard, and his hand brushed my thigh, I felt the heat of his nearness. His hand only glanced me, but he kept his shoulder pressed against mine. It was all very friendly.

  Someone politely asked me who the hell I was and what had brought me to their party.

  I looked at my near empty drink, and was too drunk not to tell the truth. “I had a bad date. Real bad. Unrecoverable, run into t
he woods and hide, bad.”

  Everyone kindly made sympathetic noises. Especially CC, who cooed, “Aw, that’s really too bad,” into my ear while his arm wrapped around my shoulders. He hugged me, and then let his hand linger.

  Okay, now I understood. CC was trying to get it, right? Why else would he keep trying to touch me, keep listening to me, and keep introducing me to his friends?

  One of the girls in the circle said, “Men are trash. What’d your date do, sweetheart?”

  “Or what didn’t he do?” somebody joked, and got slapped for their trouble.

  I said, “He didn’t do anything wrong. It was me. I think I misread something or, like, mis-saw something. It scared me, so I ran.”

  CC was holding me, and looking at me with a serious expression. I hazarded a glance at him. He kept up the eye contact, as if he was trying to puzzle me out.

  For all he was clearly coming on to me, I don’t think I’d ever felt so comfortable being held by somebody. Everywhere his arm rested on me was thrilling, but it also felt as if...

  As if he genuinely liked me. As if he thought I was interesting.

  The thought lit a flame in my midsection that spread across my whole body.

  Damn. I don’t know what turned me on more. The nearness of his lean, graceful body, or the focus in his eyes that showed he was interested in what I was saying.

  That’s what I liked about Blake, after all. He was always such a good listener.

  As I looked into CC’s eyes, and we disconnected from the general conversation and made our own little world, I felt as if he both wanted to eat me and talk to me.

  We were snuggling now. I marveled at how smoothly he’d transitioned us from friendly chatter to holding each other so closely. His legs were wrapped up in mine, his hands caressed my torso and my shoulder, and our faces were so close I could feel the warmth of his breath.

  When he whispered, “Want to take a walk?” I laughed at how blatant a come on it was.

  But in the heat of the moment, all I wanted was to be wanted by this beautiful stranger.

  Chapter Six

  We were alone in the dark of the forest. He was walking a few steps ahead of me, sometimes turning around to walk backwards while we talked. I didn’t know where we were going and I didn’t care.

  There’s this Irish folktale about sprites or pixies or whatever, and they appear in forests as beautiful eyes or voices and mislead travelers off the path. Because their beauty is too hard not to follow.

  I definitely felt as if each step was a bad idea, but anytime I felt too doubtful or that my common sense might kick in, CC shot me a look from those sparkling black eyes, and I was hooked. He could lead me anywhere, especially with that megawatt grin.

  He asked, “So, do you have a job?”

  I said, “So, we’re doing small talk now? Nice weather we’re having. Do you think the Seahawks are going to go all the way this year?”

  His head perked up in cute confusion. “Go all the way with whom?”

  I laughed. “With the Super Bowl. Do you think the Seahawks will make sweet, sweet love to the Super Bowl?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t really care about that. I was asking about you.”

  I was starting to get sleepy and annoyed. “Why? What do you want to know about me?”

  He stopped walking. I didn’t notice. I bumped into him, and we would have both toppled over, except he caught us.

  We stood in the quiet of the forest, me half-laying, half-standing against his strong chest. He had his arms wrapped around me. Those eyes kept pulling me in, and my own gaze kept flickering down to his lips, which were so close to me now.

  He murmured, since even an inch of movement would bring our lips together, “Because I’m trying to figure out if you’re the same as me. Because it feels as if you are. I can feel your heat.”

  I was certainly feeling heat. Every part of me was begging for him. My hands were pressed against his torso, and I could feel his hard abs underneath the soft silk of his black t-shirt.

  I slid my hands underneath his shirt, and the gasp of air that escaped his lips was as warm as a furnace. I felt his smooth skin and hard muscle, and I rubbed him, dragging my fingernails across his skin.

  He looked up and moaned as I dragged nails across his back and then dove my hands into the tight back pockets of his leather pants.

  I wanted to forget everything but the heat of his breath and the firmness of his body. Of course, I couldn’t forget everything. He pulled his gentle hands through my hair, and I thought I felt them scrape across the part of my scalp that had been messed up earlier.

  I jumped back and screamed. He stepped back from me into a defensive pose, with his hands up. He seemed to be waiting for something, as I caught my breath.

  Whatever it was that he was waiting for didn’t happen, so he relaxed his posture and looked at me quizzically.

  He said, “For the record, I tried to gently brush my hand through your hair. You went straight for my ass.”

  He fell backwards without looking behind him and gracefully caught a tree branch. He pulled himself up onto it and grabbed another one directly above it. He crouched, up in the tree and waited for my response.

  I said, “Wow. When I wear leather pants I can barely even walk.”

  My hands were itching again. My scalp and shoulders, too. The burning feeling was inescapable.

  I tried to ignore it. I stood below him, looking up into the tree, and said, “I used to do that when I was a kid. Climb trees. I loved it.”

  He reclined against the trunk of the tree, perched on one of the larger branches, while he asked, “So why’d you stop?”

  That felt like a weird question. “Same reason I stopped eating Lucky Charms. It’s kid’s stuff.”

  I felt embarrassed, calling his agile acrobatics ‘kid’s stuff’, but he only smiled.

  And then, in a flash, he was gone. He’d pulled himself up higher into the tree and I lost track of him. I stood in the dark of the night for about a minute, trying to enjoy the stillness and not seem desperate.

  I heard the high-pitched howling of a wolf from not too far away, and suddenly ‘desperate’ appeared to be in my best interest.

  “Shit,” I shouted, “What do I do?”

  Wolves generally don’t want anything to do with you, but it had sounded like a hunting call, and this far out into the woods they might take you as an easy midnight snack rather than pass you up.

  CC shouted back, “Climb!”

  The chaotic howling of the wolves propelled me up, as my limbs easily recalled so many years of practice. In less than a minute I was on the same branch as CC. Where I discovered he was making the wolf noises himself. I caught him right in the middle of a good long howl. He grinned at me sheepishly.

  I unloaded a string of curse words at him as my adrenaline diminished and turned into anger. I lunged at him, precarious as we were, and swatted at him semi-playfully. I was also genuinely pissed off.

  I was already off center, so it was easy for him to grab my violently waving arms and pull me over so I was on top of him. We kissed, against the weighty trunk of the tree. Having to keep our balance was causing us to constantly shift our body weights and to rub against each other more closely and vigorously. At least, the balance thing was a big contributor.

  We kissed and pushed our bodies against each other, until we had the same center of gravity. He kissed my lips, my cheeks, and then down my neck as I tightly gripped the ancient bark of the tree trunk. Then he stopped at my shoulder. He pulled my t-shirt up over my head, barely breathing. He didn’t continue kissing me all over, but instead just stared at my shoulder.

  Then he looked me in the eye, grinning as if he’d just won a raffle.

  “You’re one of us,” he said, “I knew it.”

  I didn’t get what he meant. I was more distracted by how firmly my fingers were able to grip the wood of the tree.

  I pulled my hands back to find they had once again changed i
nto monstrous green claws. They’d been sunk into the tree by the lengthy talons that sprung from my fingers.

  I looked at them. He saw them too, but kept smiling, which made the whole thing feel worse. I tried to move away from him – from my own body – more of which had turned green and monstrous. In trying to run away, I fell from our branch.

  I hurtled toward the ground, screaming, but I’m not sure if I was screaming at the fall or at my own disloyal limbs.

  Chapter Seven

  In midair the strangest thing happened. I assumed that I was in shock, or I’d already passed out and started dreaming, or I was dead.

  But my fall slowed. My back felt as if I’d been branded on both shoulders, but from out of that vicious burn, suddenly there was a cooling blast of wind.

  I not only slowed, but started moving sideways ... Instead of falling straight down, I found I was gliding through the forest. Once I realized it was happening, I started to fall again.

  Only to feel strong arms wrap around my chest. And then I was off again, gliding through the trees, gracefully avoiding branches and coming up in the air. We broke through the top of the tree line.

  I say ‘we’ because I’d looked up to see the face of whatever had grabbed me. It had a long face, like a horse, except that I’d never seen a horse with razor sharp teeth like it had. And I’d never felt steam coming from a horse’s nostrils.

  I opened my mouth to say something not very poetic, such as “What the hell is happening right now,” but when I opened my mouth, I saw my own nose (or snout). It was as if someone had slapped a mask on me.

  My face was clearly as long – if not longer – than the face of the thing that was carrying me. My tongue felt about a foot longer than I was used to.

  I had no idea how to speak with it. When I tried, all that happened was some high-pitched squealing. That seemed to amuse the horrific face of the massive creature carrying me.