by Amira Rain
Shaking from head to toe, I really wasn’t sure what to do. And I knew I certainly didn’t have a lot of time to decide. So, I acted just on pure impulse, adrenaline, and instinct.
Grabbing an arrow but dropping the quiver and bow, I took a few shaky steps forward, brandishing the arrow at the greenish-black dragon. “Let her go this second, unless you want to lose an eye.”
Both of his jewel-green eyes suddenly widened, as if he was shocked. But then the dark, devilish expression he’d been wearing previously returned, and a sound actually resembling a chuckle rumbled in his thick, scaly throat.
Taking my chance while he seemed to be amused, I lunged forward, clutching the arrow in my fist, and stabbed it toward his eye like a knife. It didn’t quite connect, but it seemed to have grazed him, and he flinched, bellowing, releasing Celeste’s shoe. At that same moment, I hooked an arm around her waist and pulled. We both tumbled backward on the balcony, landing on our rears, both of us beginning to scramble backward the moment that we did. The now seemingly-irate dragon bellowed again, then breathed fire onto the stone balcony, but he wasn’t fast enough. Celeste and I were already inside, slamming the glass sliding doors shut. Just in time to see two dragons I recognized as Jackson’s men tackle him in the air and wrestle him away from the building.
I threw an arm around Celeste’s narrow shoulders and began leading her out of the gardens. “Come on. Let’s take you to the hospital so Dr. Moore can check and see if you’re hurt anywhere.”
Celeste seemed oddly calm during the elevator ride. She just stared straight ahead, hugging her ribs, her rapid breathing the only indication that she’d just nearly been killed. I myself even felt oddly calm, now that my adrenaline was beginning to ebb. Sensing that Celeste didn’t want to talk, I just patted her shoulder a few times and focused on breathing as slowly and deeply as I could, encouraging my heart rate to fully return to normal.
Celeste didn’t start crying until just before the elevator doors opened. But once she did start, she wailed, dropping to her knees as if she was a marionette whose strings had been suddenly cut. Two nurses had to help me carry her out. They put her on a stretcher, and she continued sobbing, crying so hard the sound was actually close to yelling. Irene came rushing out from a patient room, paling when she saw who the distraught new arrival was.
A while later, after Dr. Moore had had to forcibly sedate a keening and thrashing Celeste in order to examine her for injuries, I explained to Irene what had happened. With Celeste now sleeping, Irene let her own tears flow, and I wrapped her in a hug while she cried into my shoulder, thanking me for saving Celeste’s life.
After, I began to feel utterly drained. I felt completely spent, emotionally and physically. I felt like I could barely even think anymore, could barely even process rational thought. Feet dragging, I began shuffling out of the hospital, just wanting to go up to my apartment and lie down. And maybe sleep for a million years.
Just before I reached the elevator, Liz caught up with me and said that the Gorgolians had just been driven out of the city without The Dome receiving so much as a scratch. “And six of the Gorgolians were killed, too, four of them by Commander Wallace alone. Although, unfortunately, Drago Stone survived, I’m sure much to Commander Wallace’s frustration.”
Jackson. I felt ashamed that his safety and survival hadn’t crossed my mind before now, not to mention the safety and survival of his men.
I asked Liz how they all were, and she said that everyone had made it. “Many injuries, I’m afraid, though none were sustained by Commander Jackson, and everyone else should pull through just fine.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing something. When exactly it had happened, I wasn’t quite sure, but I cared about him. A lot.
On the elevator ride up to my apartment, I called him, and after questioning him and hearing that he really was perfectly fine, I gave him a very condensed recap of everything that had happened with me and Celeste. Before ending the call, he said he’d be right up to my apartment within twenty minutes.
He actually made it up in less than ten.
After pulling me into his arms in the foyer first thing, squeezing me so tightly for several moments I could barely breathe, he pulled away wearing the most somber, serious expression I’d ever seen on his face before. “They’re going to come back to try to destroy the time machine again, Vivian. And I and my men are going to fight like hell to try to stop that from happening, I can’t guarantee that they may not succeed at some point.
And so, on the way up here, I realized that if you truly want to go back home in the time machine, you’re going to have to do it very soon, to be certain that you’ll still be able to.” Moving his hands to cradle my face, he paused, looking deeply into my eyes. “I also realized something else on my way up here. If you truly do want to go back home, then I want you to. I don’t exactly know when it happened, but me having an heir has taken a distant backseat to your personal happiness. But whatever your final choice is, you’re going to have to make it soon—today, even.”
I looked up into his dark navy blue eyes, not sure how I ever possibly could.
CHAPTER TEN
Trying to think of a response to all that Jackson had said, I took a deep breath, then another, but I found I just couldn’t speak. I was too overcome by too many different things. For one, I was still utterly drained from the events of the morning. That made it hard to even fathom how I was going to make a decision about whether I’d go back to Detroit in the time machine, and soon, or stay in D.C. with Jackson. Also, I was still trying to wrap my brain around what he’d said about his desire for an heir having taken a distant backseat to my personal happiness. It was all just a bit too much to immediately process, to say the least.
Instantly seeming to sense that I was at a loss, Jackson moved his hands from my face to my shoulders, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Vivian. You’ve had a hell of a morning with recalling certain unpleasant things about your past, and then facing a dragon in order to save Celeste’s life, and now I’ve just completely put you on the spot. That was completely unfair of me, considering what you’ve been through. You’re going to need time to think things through; I get that.
And in the meantime, I need to go check in with my men and see about the wounded. So, I’ll go now, and give you the time and space to think that you deserve... but do keep in mind what I said. Although we might wish it were otherwise, you will need to make your decision fairly soon. The Gorgolians will attack again, I’m sure of it, and we can’t guarantee that they might not be successful in destroying, or at least damaging, the time machine at some point.”
I nodded, looking deeply into his inky blue eyes. “I understand. I’ll... I’ll think fast. I’ll try to make up my mind as quickly as I can.”
“All right. Do take a little time to rest and relax first, maybe. Though I know that may be easier said than done. But just try to make the decision that you think is best for you, knowing that at this point, I only want your happiness, and I truly mean that.”
As if to prove his point, he dipped his head and planted an almost painfully slow, tender kiss on my mouth, teasing my lips apart with his, just slightly before pulling away, much to my disappointment. I realized that despite my exhaustion, I wanted him to keep on kissing me, and I wanted our kissing to possibly lead to other things, even. With memories of our lovemaking of the night before still fresh in my mind, I couldn’t help but contemplate a round two.
However, I knew that shouldn’t even be crossing my mind at present. I had a decision to make, and I didn’t want the memory of how good Jackson’s hands had felt sliding along my skin, or the memory of how good it had felt to have him moving inside of me, to factor into that. A decision made with a mind clouded by lust might not be the very best one, of that I was pretty sure.
And so, once Jackson left, I put all those thoughts out of my mind. I tried to, anyway. But while I kicked off my tennis shoes and coiled my long brown hair
into a messy topknot, securing it with bobby pins from my pocket, I wasn’t quite able to successfully pull my thoughts from the activities of the night before. With a little heat rising to my cheeks, I recalled how powerfully, yet without hurting me in the least, Jackson had moved himself inside of me while straddling my hips, with me on my stomach. And when I flopped down on the French blue couch in my “living room-within-a-living room,” those thoughts continued, becoming steamier still, while I recalled what heights of mind-shattering erotic bliss Jackson had ultimately brought me to.
Thank God for Celeste. Because while I lounged on the couch with the decision I had to make, the farthest thing from my mind, a tiny little micro-thought about what had happened to her suddenly pulled me out of my sensuous reverie. Though she’d been sedated when I’d left the hospital within The Arch, I knew I should call Irene to check on her, and now I felt ashamed that I hadn’t done so the moment Jackson had left my apartment.
After Irene had been paged, she told me that Celeste was just fine and still sleeping, and then she immediately asked how I was doing. “Are you sure you didn’t get any bumps or bruises from fighting off that awful Drago Stone?”
Recalling the Gorgolian dragon leader and his glittering green eyes, I suddenly got a chill and actually shivered, despite some of the living room windows being open, letting in warm May air and sunshine.
I shook my head, not even realizing that Irene obviously couldn’t see the action over the phone. “No. No bumps or bruises. He didn’t even touch me. In fact, our only contact was when I grazed his eye with the arrow point. But that was it. But....”
“But, what? Did you hurt yourself pulling Celeste off the ledge or anything?”
Again, I shook my head, staring up at the vaulted ceiling in my living room, without really seeing it. “No, no, I’m really not physically hurt at all. I just... Well, I just...”
I had no idea what I just.
I hesitated a moment or two before continuing. “I guess I just feel a little weirdly chilled or something, just thinking about Drago Stone and his eyes. They’re like... like sparkling emeralds or something, but with some kind of blackness behind them. I can’t really explain it. But they just make me....” After shivering again, I grabbed a midnight blue throw blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over my body. “I just get cold when I think about Drago Stone’s eyes, for some reason.”
“Well, that’s understandable, dear. Who wouldn’t? He’s an evil-hearted man and an evil-hearted dragon. Even some of Commander Wallace’s own men have reported feeling a little chill when looking into his eyes during battle. Pity he wasn’t killed during the fight today. But, as I’m sure Commander Wallace has already told you, there will be another chance for them to do just that, and probably very soon.
Our spies are reporting that Drago Stone is very determined to destroy our time machine, and some say he might even try to take it for his own, if he’s able. So, he’ll be back. And just you wait and see. Commander Wallace and his men will take him out, make no mistake about it. And then, maybe we folks here in the Confederation of Free States will finally have a little peace. And maybe even the poor, enslaved Gorgolian folks can finally become free. I suppose we’ll have to see about that, but wouldn’t that be nice?”
For some reason, I couldn’t respond. I was too preoccupied picturing Drago Stone’s jewel-like eyes. Picturing them and trying to remember something about them, though I wasn’t quite sure what. But whatever it was that was floating just at the very edge of my consciousness, it was making me continue to feel chilled, almost as chilled as I’d felt upon waking up in the hospital after having been thawed.
When I didn’t answer her question about the human Gorgolian citizens after a second or two, Irene continued, “Anyway, if you’re sure you’re all right, I suppose I should get back to Celeste’s room now. I think I’m going to wait by her bedside until she wakes up.”
Before we ended the call, I told Irene to call me right away when Celeste did awaken. Then I set my phone on the coffee table in front of the couch, I settled in for a nap, pulling the midnight blue blanket up under my chin, trying to fight off my chill, and also trying to fight off the memory of Drago Stone’s emerald eyes. Shivering again, I fell asleep within minutes.
It was some hours later, at the end of some long, vague, meandering dream-slash-nightmare, that I remembered. I remembered all I needed to know, at least. I knew all I needed to know. Drago Stone, the leader of the Gorgolians, had been a man named Daniel Stone before the nuclear blast that had decimated the world’s population and had created shifters. And the man named Daniel Stone had been my boyfriend. My boyfriend who had shoved me and slapped me and punched me.
I awoke from my dream-slash-nightmare feeling as if I’d been punched in the gut. I was certain about what I’d recalled. There was no mistaking his glittering green eyes; Daniel Stone and Drago Stone were one and the same. He’d been turned into a shifter and then had survived during the hundreds of years that I’d been frozen. And he’d survived, presumably, because the nuclear blast had affected the Gorgolian shifters differently and had made them into immortal shifters who didn’t die of old age or disease like USF shifters. I recalled Irene telling me that when I was in the hospital. Gorgolian shifters could only be killed in battle.
Dan. Sitting up on the couch, clutching the blanket to my chin, I recalled what I used to call him. I recalled how cruel he’d been to me. I remembered how at the end of our relationship, I’d been reduced to a constantly-apologetic, constantly-crying, constantly-shrinking mess. He’d nearly ruined me, I remembered.
I also remembered that I’d had a job as assistant director of a nonprofit serving single mothers in the Detroit area before the nuclear blast, and Dan had gotten me fired from it when he’d repeatedly called the board members, telling them lies about me. He’d been in the military, had been some sort of high-ranking officer, but had been home on an extended leave at the time. He’d wanted me home, too, so he could know what I was doing, and who I was speaking to, at all times.
Now sitting in the warm sunshine in my spacious apartment in The Arch, I remembered something else, too, related to Dan, something that I’d actually recalled earlier that day. But actually, it was a bit more related to Jackson. Before I’d been frozen, he’d chosen me to be the mother of his heir because he thought I was the bravest and gutsiest of all the women who’d volunteered.
But just that morning, before the Gorgolian attack, I remembered that I certainly hadn’t been brave and gutsy. I’d only “volunteered” because I’d been running from Dan, trying to escape from him and his abuse.
Now the decision I had to make was a bit more complicated. Jackson had “chosen” me under false pretenses, and he deserved to know that. He deserved to know that the woman he’d selected to bear his child hadn’t actually been the bravest and most confident; she’d actually been the most cowardly. She’d actually been fleeing, terrified. With my heart feeling like a sinking stone in my chest, I realized that once he learned this, he may not even want me to stay in D.C. to bear his child anymore. He might just gently and politely encourage me to immediately go back home to Detroit, probably mercifully through a parallel where Dan wasn’t present.
I knew I had to tell him. Continuing to have him think something about me that wasn’t true wasn’t an option. I still didn’t know everything about who I’d been, pre-freezing, but I knew I hadn’t been the type of person to hide the truth, and that hadn’t changed. And once I revealed everything to Jackson, maybe I wouldn’t have to make a difficult choice about staying put or going home, after all. Though for some reason, instead of making me feel relieved, this just made me feel hollow in a funny sort of way. Deflated. Empty. As if some shimmering bubble deep inside me had been popped.
Even though I felt like I wanted to talk to Jackson right away and confess the truth to him, at the same time, part of me wasn’t in a rush to do that. Also, I knew Jackson’s men needed him, and I didn’t want to s
elfishly take him away from them right after a battle where so many had been injured. So, I didn’t even attempt to talk to him that day.
After spending the rest of the afternoon sitting by a still-sleeping Celeste’s bedside, I had dinner with Irene and Liz in the hospital cafeteria. Not long after, I returned to my apartment and went to bed alone, not exactly sure why I’d begun to outright dread telling Jackson the truth about why I’d seemed to volunteer so boldly to be frozen. I knew enough to know for sure, however, that this feeling of outright dread didn’t seem at all like the way a woman who was still dead-set on returning to her home should be feeling.
By morning, my sense of being conflicted about telling him had only seemed to increase. Deciding I needed some fresh air and tranquility to clear my head, I went down to the Arch Gardens to take a stroll. Sunlight streaming in from the wide balcony and south-facing windows made all the green, growing things filling the gardens seem to glow. I breathed in the warm greenhouse air deeply, willing the sweet scent of roses and lilacs to quiet my mind.
But by the time I’d done three laps around the massive garden, walking along a wooden boardwalk of sorts that wound through it all, I still hadn’t even come close to achieving serenity. And in fact, I’d begun absentmindedly wringing my hands, twisting my fingers together, something I tended to do when stressed.
Unable to deal with my anxiety any longer, I had a seat on the wide stone ledge of the koi pond and took out my phone. I was going to text Jackson and tell him I needed to talk to him. Then, I was going to tell him exactly what kind of a woman he’d selected to give birth to his heir. The kind of woman who’d been nearly senseless with fear.
But, while the bright orange koi zipped around in their gurgling pond beside me, I didn’t send Jackson a text saying I wanted to talk to him. I accidentally sent one with a different message, a much racier one. And it really had been an accident.