I cough into my hand then pull my T-shirt back over my nose and mouth, breathing through it. The stench in the room is unbearable. I’ve never smelled anything so bad as the putrid cow corpse, until he lit the damn thing on fire. Now it’s smoking down to nothing but charred, greasy bone, and the stink feels like it’s in my entire body. Heck, in my soul. It’s so awful and invasive, and part of me wonders what the heck kind of message the dragon was supposed to be sending with that.
I mean, Claudia said her dragon was a little crazy at times, but this is mega-crazy, where I’m concerned. I don’t know if it’s a warning to me, but I’m unsettled and on edge, waiting for the dragon to return.
Since he’s been gone, I’ve looked around for more stairwells, and there’s one area buried by rock that might be a likely candidate, but digging it out with one good arm means it’s a slower than slow ordeal. I’ve moved some of the rocks but stopped constantly, afraid that the dragon would come back and see me trying to escape.
But the stink is becoming pretty overwhelming. I want to kick it over the side of the ledge, but I’m terrified of how the dragon will react. Claudia’s so much braver than I am. I don’t know that I have a brave bone in my body. She’s brave, but…I’m a survivor, and that means that you’re not always brave. Sometimes you’re cowardly. I’ll do what it takes to come out the other side, just as long as I stay alive.
And if that means breathing in dead cow fumes while waiting for a crazy dragon to return, so be it. That’s what I’ve got to roll with.
I doze off on the floor, somehow, and when I wake up, my throat feels dry and my tongue feels like wool. I have a headache from lack of food, but the thirst is bothering me more. Is this how I’m going to die? Forgotten by a dragon and left alone to starve? It’s not how I pictured going out.
Funny, I always thought Tate would end up killing me.
Not that I want to die. I don’t. But I knew making deals with Tate was the equivalent of playing with fire, and I knew that it took more and more to satisfy him each time.
I was warned not to make deals with the militia. Claudia told me again and again that it was a slippery slope to whoring. But Tate seemed nice, and he offered me food in exchange for a “date.” And then he wasn’t as nice, and it wasn’t really a date so much as a quick, rough fuck. And later on, there was less food and more roughness, but I didn’t have a choice at that point. I was starving.
The thing with Tate was, if he’d just wanted sex, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. But Tate doesn’t get off on having his dick stroked like every other guy. Tate gets off on pain. When I agreed to let him do what he wanted with me in exchange for money or food, I knew what I was doing. When things got worse, I went with it, because a few slaps beat starving.
That’s how I got really, really good at blocking things out. I’d just think of my perfect place and zone out while he hit me and whipped me. Tate figured it out, of course. He didn’t like it when I went to my “Zen” place.
That’s how I ended up with a broken arm. I couldn’t block that out.
If this dragon turns out to be the same kind of bully as Tate, I’ll just deal with that, too. It doesn’t matter what he does to me as long as I stay alive. Maybe someday I can get back to Claudia or back to Fort Dallas. Back to safety.
As if my thoughts have summoned him, I hear the flap of wings.
I get to my feet. My bruises and aches protest the movements, but I feel more on guard when I’m on my toes. A second later, the massive form of the dragon descends onto the ledge. He steps forward, holding something carefully between his front feet, and as I watch, the head rises. His nostrils flare, and then he kicks the remnants of the charred cow-corpse off the ledge.
Okay, well that’s one way to clean house.
I huddle against the wall as he lumbers forward, his movements awkward. He uses only his hind legs to walk, which throws me off, until I see what he’s holding in his hands.
It’s…a bathtub with water in it.
That’s random. Does he want me to take a bath? I glance up at him, surprised, trying to read his draconic face.
He steps forward a few more feet and then gently sets down the tub, water sloshing over the edge. I’m so thirsty that I can’t help the whimper that escapes my throat at the sight of all that water splashing onto concrete. A second later, the dragon lowers his head and gently releases something he was holding in his teeth.
It’s a cookpot. One of the enormous ones from one of the Fort Dallas fires…and it’s still got stew in it.
Shocked, I stare at the dragon. He pulls back on his haunches and flutters his wings, settling in, and then watches me, waiting.
My mouth waters, and my throat feels so incredibly dry, and it makes me a little bolder, I think. I take a step forward and gesture at the tub and the stewpot. “Is this for me?” My voice is scratchy even to my own ears.
The eyes flick golden, and he nudges the stewpot in my direction. Okay, definitely for me. A tiny smile curves my mouth, and I rush forward, heading for the water. I’m going to drink my fill before this turns into a trick of some kind and it’s taken away from me. I lean over the edge of the tub. The water looks clear enough, even if there’s a bit of debris floating in it, and I don’t doubt that it was scooped up from one of the nearby rivers or lakes. Not the Trinity River, I hope, but I cup my hand and take a drink anyhow. The water’s cool and sweet…and has a hint of a fishy taste to it. I don’t even care. I gulp down mouthful after mouthful, water streaming down my chin. When I’ve drunk my fill, I collapse against the side of the tub, mentally exhausted.
Thank God I’m not going to die of thirst. One worry down.
I rest my cheek against the side of the bathtub, eyes closed. I’m so tired and weak. I need to get my strength up to eat something, but right now I just want to lie down and relax without this knot of tension in my belly. It’s not going away, though, not as long as I’m being held captive by a dragon.
The dragon. I can’t hear him.
I open my eyes and sit up again, curious. As I do, I see a naked man standing on the opposite side of the tub. The dragon’s nowhere to be seen. Panicked, I grab at the edge of the tub and shove myself to my feet. “Oh, no, you have to get out of here. You—you—” I pause as the man gazes at me steadily with the most intense gold-on-gold inhuman eyes.