ZOHR

I listen to my mate’s fascinating tumble of thoughts, and I realize she does not know that I can hear everything. She worries about me. She worries about the one called Azar, and I pull his image from her scattered thoughts and lock it into my own. If I see him, I will destroy him, I vow to myself.

I test my wrists against the chains holding me down. When I was lost in my own head—crazed—I did not understand the chains, only that they prevented me from flying away and they made me angry. Now I see what they are for. This Azar knew just how to chain me down. He knew that a drakoni’s wings are vulnerable and delicate at the base, which is where the spikes prod into my back. He knows that the collar locked around my neck will tear my throat out if I try to change. He keeps me prisoner in my two-legged form.

But for what purpose?

I sift through my mate’s thoughts, trying to learn from her. She thinks of another male. Boyd. Her sibling, now dead. She is sad that he is gone, but only because of what he represents. There is much resentment when she thinks of him. 

I wonder if I have a sibling? 

My thoughts are…blank. I try to think about my past, and there is nothing there. It is as if my mind is fogged, and I cannot part the mists. How long was I crazed, I wonder? I am only now starting to come to myself, and it feels like…

Like what? I have nothing to compare it to.

I growl low in frustration and twist against the cuffs again. My skin—vulnerable in my two-legged form—bleeds and rends against the metal.

A nearby human male snarls something at me, but I do not understand his words. I only speak to my Emma.

And her thoughts are troubling. She worries if she has made a mistake in mating with me. That I am too attached already and she does not know what she has “gotten herself into.” That I will want more than she can give. She is not afraid of me, though, and that is good.

Her worries are foolish ones. She will soon realize that I wish only to protect and care for her. I have dealt with skittish females before, and it does not matter to me that she has doubts. I have none. I will show her I am the right mate for her.

Once I am free, of course.

I tug at my chains again, snarling in frustration. I want to see Emma. I want to look at my mate again, drink in her features, inhale deeply of her scent. The short time we had together was not enough. I need more.

I must be patient, though. I cannot scare her into hiding away from me, not when I am trapped. I must make her realize that she is mine, and I will protect her from everyone else that threatens her.

But first I must somehow get free. I glance over at the creature—the human—nearby. He ignores me, and I do not like his scent. I do not want him here. I want my mate. I reach out to touch her mind, but when I do, she is asleep, and I can feel the exhaustion in her.

I relax in my bonds, even though I must grit my teeth. I will wait for her. She is worth it. For now, she must sleep. Instead, I will watch and learn, and acquaint myself with what I can of this place. My mind is now clear, and I feel as if I am seeing this place for the first time on this day.

I must learn all that I can.

EMMA

It’s weird having a stranger roost in your thoughts. Even weirder when that stranger’s not all that human. I sleep for most of the day, but each time I wake up, I can feel Zohr in my thoughts, his subtle presence a reminder that I’m never going to have a moment to myself ever again.

I’ll deal with that some other time, though. I’ve got other problems. I manage to rouse myself from my bed after a time and check my head. No infection. The wound looks tight and hurts me less than yesterday.

Your sickness is because of my fires, nothing more.

Right, thanks for listening in, I snark to myself, but try to keep that thought separate. How long does this last? I ask him.

Not long. You must rest and regain your strength. I need you and you are not strong right now.

The simple confidence in his thoughts is a little unnerving, but he’s right that I need to sleep. I return to bed, and when I wake up again, it’s dawn and Old Jerry’s in my room, checking my bandages.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” I mumble to him, pulling my musty blankets tighter around my body.

Even in a greeting, I have to confront Jerry and the others with a foul mouth, because they view it as a sign of strength.

“I showed myself in. Hold still.” 

I glance over at my door, but the lock’s not busted. Old Jerry must have forgotten to lock it when he left yesterday and I was too sick to notice. I don’t like the thought. Anyone could have come in, and I don’t trust any of these guys not to rob me blind…or worse. “Thanks,” I force myself to mumble.

Are you unsafe? The thought blasts through my head, full of alarm. Shall I come for you?

Wait, no! It’s fine! I must have been thinking a little too “loudly.” Everything’s okay, I promise. Just stay where you are. We can’t have them know that we’re communicating or it’s going to put you in danger. Just stay calm, all right?

It is easy for you to say, he tells me, and sounds grumpy even in his thoughts. You are not the one chained down in this strange place.

I have to bite back a reluctant smile at that. You’re right, it is easy for me to say. But please, just trust me, okay? You have to trust that I know what I’m doing if we’re going to get out of here.

You are the only one I trust, Emma. But I will do as you ask.

Thank you, Zohr. I—

“Hurting?” Old Jerry asks, distracting me.

“Huh? What?” I blink at him, trying to focus.

“You’re frowning. Your head hurting you?”

“No, I feel much better,” I tell him, clutching my blankets tighter to my chest. It’s not a hundred percent the truth, but I do feel much better than yesterday, and I’ve got a lot to do. “I’d like to get back to work in the kitchens, if that’s not a problem.”

“You sure?” He gives me a long, hard look. “Still seem kind of…” He shrugs.

“I still seem kind of what?” I prompt when he goes quiet.

Old Jerry shrugs. “Out of it. Distracted. If you need to sleep another day, I’ll tell Azar and the others you’ve got the plague or some shit. For the right price, of course. You got more of those granola bars?”

“I have two more in my bag, and I promise I’m fine,” I tell him with an over-bright, fake smile. “Nothing a good breakfast won’t fix.”

“Shame you’re with this crew, then. A good breakfast ain’t something you get around here unless your name’s Azar.” He gives a phlegmy laugh at his own joke.

I laugh along with him, even though I don’t find it all that funny.

Is he bothering you?

No, but you are! Can you be quiet for two seconds so I can think? 

Only two seconds? Not much thinking.

I snort aloud at that, and when Old Jerry gives me a weird look, I slide my legs over the side of the bed. “Let me get you those bars.”