Chapter Five - How To Escape A Dragon
Cyrene
“Holy fucking shit,” I scream in the air. I have made the gravest of mistakes that is going to cost me my life. I kick my broom to speed it up as my date suddenly transforms into a giant dragon the size of a house and chases me. I shoot for the clouds as he spreads his wings and flaps hard to catch up.
“Fuck off,” I shout at him, flipping him the bird.
“Wait,” he roars from behind. I know I am doomed, I can’t outrun this giant, but I won’t go down without a fight. I begin chanting to conjure strong winds when he catches up.
“Can we talk?” He asks, slowing down to match my pace. I clench my fist, mutter a “cloud of dust” spell into it and blow into his face. blinding spell wouldn’t have worked, so my options are limited. He spins around, temporarily blinded and his tail suddenly appears out of the cloud like a lasso and it hits merit knocks the air out of my lungs and pushes me off my broom.
I close my eyes as I fall back to earth like a shooting star, ready to die. But my fall is cushioned as I land firmly, not hitting the ground. I open my eyes and see the blue sapphires of Dell’s eyes looking at me. I gasp, my heart hammering in my chest and I faint in his arms.
***
I wake up with a start, drawing in a long breath, my body suddenly tensing up as my head pulsates with ache. I know I am fucked. I pretend to be asleep as I try to gauge the surroundings with my eyes closed, planning my escape. I open my left eye slightly, just enough to see where I am. There’s a mirror in front of me in which I see a shirtless Dell, sitting by the window, reading.
“You can stop pretending,” he says. “I can hear your heartbeat.”
I drop the act and get up, propping a pillow behind my back. I study him for half a minute but he doesn’t look up from his book.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“What was I supposed to do,” he says in a matter-of-fact way, “leave you on the street?”
“Is this your bedroom?”
“Yes,” he says, finally looking at me. I realize I am naked, my dress crumpled on the floor.
“Did you fuck me?” I look him straight in the eyes, anger rising in my voice.
“I am not a necrophiliac,” he says, looking disgusted.
“Then why’d you take my clothes off?”
“You really don’t remember anything, do you?”
I ignore his question.
He gets up, closes the book and puts it on the floor. “You passed out. Woke up. Puked on me and on yourself, then passed out again. I cleaned you up, didn't have any clothes for you so I just covered you with a bed sheet.”
“You are an asshole, you know that?”
“What, for not raping you?”
“For knocking me off my broom. I could have died.”
“You blinded me with a cloud of dust, I couldn’t see,” he says. “Besides, you were being a bitch to me. Who pulls off someone’s hair and runs away?”
“You won’t understand,” I say. I wrap the bed sheet around myself and get up to leave.
“Where are you going?” He asks.
“Back home,” I say, picking my dress up from the floor.
He starts walking toward me. I drop the sheet and clothes and make for the door, whistling for my broom. He catches my wrist and pulls me back, pushing me against the wall as he grabs my other hand.
“What’s wrong with you?” He asks, studying my face. I am aware of my nakedness against him. I glower at him and then look away. He is incredibly hot. His arms are toned, biceps strong, sparsely haired body and he has a thin line of hair receding into his groin from his six-pack. But I also know he is dangerous. Dragons can easily kill witches—they can’t do spells, but their blood has strong magic in it.
He shakes his head, letting me go. I pick up the bed sheet again, covering myself, gather my dress and heels and begin to walk toward the door. Then I remember I still need dragon hair. I turn around and see him walking to the balcony, arms on the railings, basking in the sun. I want him suddenly and it is confusing.
“Dell,” I call out.
“What?” He doesn’t turn around.
“I am sorry,” I say. He turns around, frowning sarcastically—or maybe he is confused as well. “I still need dragon hair.”
He plucks a few strands from his head and puts them in my hand. “Here, now you can leave.”
“All right,” I say.
“You could have just asked last night. Not everyone is out to kill or rape you. People can be nice, but your cynicism doesn’t help.”
“I didn’t know you were a Dragon Shifter,” I say, still hungover, unable to properly keep up with this broken conversation.“Why are you being so nice to me?”
He breaks into a tentative smile, “Because I think you are cute.”
“I guess I have already screwed this up,” I shrug as I turn to leave. His face remains expressionless. A part of me wants him to stop me. I know it is nothing more than physical attraction, that I am drawn to this bronze-skinned hunk standing in front of me in gray sweats, his chocolate brown hair, matted and swept back. His face is loosely V-shaped, softer around the chin, his jaw chiseled, his lips pink—two thin lines, his nose erect, slightly turned up. His eyes have a supernatural glow. I now realize that it is the glow of dragon’s eyes.
Every part of me wants him to stop me. As I walk out the door, ready to turn around and run to him as soon as he calls my name, my heart sinks deeper with every step I take—from his bedroom, back to my apartment.