by Aaron Crash
Mouse laughed. “Why yes, I’d love to help you kill yourself.” She was wearing a black dress with no shoes, and her hair was mussed. Petite, blonde, and smiling, she was as gorgeous and sarcastic as ever.
“I won’t die. But I will assume my True Form,” he said.
More cutting laughter from the beautiful woman. “No, your True Form is you as you are right now—a rather tall primate. And a stinky one, no less. My True Form is that of a dragon. Please don’t confuse the two.”
“Semantics,” he snapped. “The important part for you to understand is that I want the dragon form. I want to become a full Dragonskin, and I want to do it in the next few hours.”
“Twenty-four,” Mouse mused. “If we start the ritual now, it will take at least twenty-four hours if not more. And it’s gonna hurt, you bastard. It’s going to make you want to die.” She smiled as though enjoying the thought immensely.
“Mulk will do worse to me if I don’t kill this Steven Whipp,” Edgar said.
“He will,” Mouse agreed with a nod. “But that might be better. You don’t know what you’re asking. You don’t know the agony.”
Edgar smiled. “I wasn’t born special, bitch. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s pain. I’ve learned about that all my life, and I’ve learned to like it. So, you’re going to get the brazier, we’re gonna go to the rooftop, and you’re gonna make it hurt so good.”
Mouse paled, closed her eyes, and drained her glass. “For that, I’m going to need a whole lot more wine.”
Chapter Fifteen
ARIA COULDN’T WAKE up, couldn’t escape the pain in her chest, where she’d taken not one but two rocket-propelled grenades. She wished she had spellcasting skills, but her father had said as the Escort of a Prime, she wouldn’t need it. He’d tolerated her combat training but just barely. She’d insisted the world was a dangerous place, and that had struck a chord in him. He’d agreed.
Now, though, she longed for the healing spells she’d watched her father cast with ease, repairing himself, repairing the wounds of his vassals and the other Dragonsouls who served him.
Feverish, sweating, she called out, “Steven, I need you. Please, help me.”
Both Steven and Tessa hurried into the bedroom. The barista brushed damp hair out of her face while Steven held her hand. “What is it, Aria? How can we help you?”
“Animus,” she whispered. “I need Animus to heal. Kiss me. Both of you. Kiss me.” She hated how weak and vulnerable she was. She should’ve avoided the grenades. She should’ve fought smarter, better, and she knew this was only the beginning. So far, Mulk had only sent his human vassals at them. It wouldn’t be long before they were fighting forces that were far more skilled and powerful.
The thought evaporated as Tessa’s kiss landed. The barista’s lips were soft and warm on hers, her body equally soft and warm. Aria was mostly muscle, while Tessa had such nice womanly curves. The barista’s eyes glowed, and Aria felt fresh energy enter her.
She turned, and Steven kissed her. His smell made her sigh, then moan. It was becoming so familiar to her, so comforting. They were coming together to form a powerful entity, one that might be able to save her. Steven had showered; his hair was still wet, and she brushed her fingers through it.
He was becoming excited again, which was good, as more of the sexual energy would heal her faster.
Aria parted her legs and guided his hands down to her center. She arched her back, her wounds and weakness momentarily forgotten. Instinctively, Steven knew what she needed. He kissed his way down her body until his mouth was on her. And while Tessa kissed her, Steven brought her quickly to a climax of heavenly pleasure.
Then Steven surrendered to his own need. Tessa was stripped in seconds, and the two made love while Aria kissed them both, drinking in the energy of their raw passion. When both cried out, Aria felt herself dragged back into bliss along with them. Animus filled the room and left them all satisfied, breathing hard, and sweating.
Aria had fallen back asleep when the knock came on the door. She heard Steven burst out about “Pizza!” and she found herself alone again on the bed. She curled up into a little ball, knees pulled up against her chest—the way she liked to sleep—but missed the warmth and heat of her friends.
While her body healed using the Animus, her mind began to churn.
She hated her father, Rhakshor Khat, the Dragonlord Prime of Maharashtra in India, as much as she hated Rhaegen Mulk. What they were doing was unfair.
At first, Aria had been thrilled to be in America, despite the predicament she found herself in. She’d had the idea that she would live normally until the very last moment, so she had enrolled as a normal college student at Denver Metropolitan University. She’d pretended to be human, and it had been fun even as her minutes of freedom ticked away. And then Steven had happened, at the very last minute.
But could this Dragonling really rise to be powerful enough to challenge Rhaegen Mulk? So far, this Skinling, Edgar Vale, hadn’t thrown any serious forces against them. The mercenaries they’d fought at the St. Vrain Aerie had magic swords, but they’d been normal humans, not Warlings. Once Vale brought to bear the real power of Mulk, there was a good chance none of them would survive.
However, if Steven could prove himself competent, if he could destroy this Edgar Vale, that might make Mulk pause. He might not go at Steven directly.
The Dragonling had done well during the fighting. He’d handled the violence, and he’d killed in self-defense. But letting the last mercenary go? He had to get tougher, harder on the inside, if he were going to form a Primacy of his own.
Aria fell into a little fantasy of ruling a Primacy with Steven, together with Tessa, who had a surprising amount of Animus. And her glowing eyes ... something about her was special, without a doubt.
Yes, Steven would kill Edgar Vale, then Rhaegen Mulk, and he would rule the Great Plains Primacy with her at his side.
She thought about telling him everything about her life—her father, Mulk, and the whole tragic situation.
But no. Not yet. He might push her away or he might see her as weak and vulnerable. Aria hated what her father had done to her life. No one must know. Perhaps she could keep all of her secrets to herself. Steven and Tessa would never need to know.
THE NEXT MORNING, STEVEN stood with Aria as they checked out of their hotel right before noon. Aria was showered and made-up, looking spectacular in a green dress and sandals with straps up to her knees. Tessa was outside, smoking, which neither he nor Aria liked.
“She says it calms her nerves,” Steven said, “but nicotine is a stimulant. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Very little of what humans do make sense.” Aria switched subjects. “You shouldn’t have let that mercenary go last night. You should’ve killed him.”
They walked out into the sunlight. It was a warm spring day, not a cloud in the very blue sky.
“I’m not going to be that guy,” Steven said with a flippant shrug. “I don’t like killing people, and besides, he’ll spread the word. No one can mess with us without paying the price.”
“You have to be that guy,” Aria insisted. “Showing mercy will get you killed. In the world of Dragonsouls, only the strong survive. Any weakness is seen as a liability.”
Steven took her arm and stopped them in the middle of the parking lot. Tessa was by the Mercedes, ready to get in.
“What are you getting out of this?” Steven asked. “Why are you helping me?”
Aria lowered her green eyes, fixing him in a steely gaze. She was so beautiful and yet so cold, she could’ve been an emerald sitting in a freezer. “I have my reasons. Just know, I’ve chosen you to support because I have no one else. If you die, I die, in a very real sense.”
Steven met her glower and didn’t look away. They stood there, staring at one another, until Steven had to grin. “You’re not going to tell me shit, are you?”
“No,” she said simply.
“But I can trust yo
u?” he asked.
She nodded. “You can. I’m trusting you with my life. And you can trust me with yours.”
Tessa called out to them, “Come on, guys, I’m dying for some Hostess Donettes and terrible gas-station coffee. It’s road trip time!”
Steven had decided to hit the Colorado Springs fire marker on the map. They’d slept through the morning, mostly, though Tessa had wanted one more round of lovin’, and it had done wonders for him and Aria. Their wounds were slowly disappearing, and both had more energy.
They piled into the Mercedes. Despite his size, Steven took the backseat so Tessa could enjoy the comfort of the passenger seat. Aria buckled in and drove off, heading for the nearest gas station. They needed to fuel up before heading down I-25 toward Colorado Springs.
Steven was confused by Tessa. He leaned forward between the seats. “Let me get this straight ... you like gas-station coffee and donuts? This from the barista who criticizes Starbucks coffee?”
Tessa sighed like she was having to explain two plus two is four to a graduate student studying mathematics. “First off, it’s not donuts, it’s Donettes, trademarked by the Hostess company, all rights reserved. I prefer the powdered-sugar ones, but I’ll settle for chocolate so I don’t trash Aria’s car.”
“Whatever you get is fine,” Aria said absently. “I have a cleaning service.”
“How rich are you?” Tessa asked.
“Very,” Aria answered. “Or at least I will be until midnight on Sunday. So we better use my American Express while we can.”
“But you aren’t going to tell us much more than that, right?” Steven asked.
“Correct.” Aria turned into a Conoco travel complex.
Steven frowned and then kept on trying to figure out Tessa. “So, Donettes, okay. That I can get behind, I guess. But what about wanting terrible coffee? You’re a total coffee snob.”
“I am,” Tessa agreed. “It’s like with the Donettes, sometimes you want something that is mass-produced goodness. For me, that’s total comfort food. Before my dad died, he’d take me to the gas station close to our house and buy me convenience store junk food on Saturday mornings so my mom could sleep in. I got used to it. As for crappy gas-station coffee, it’s made without love, and it’s supposed to be bad. I can celebrate the bad. Like a B-movie. You know it’s bad, but you can like it anyway. Big-time corporate coffee shops are supposed to be good. Sometimes they are, but not like the small mom-and-pop shops.”
“Like the Coffee Clutch,” Steven said, putting it all together.
“Yeah, and our baked goods are homemade awesomeness. No Donettes for us.”
Aria pulled up to the pump next to a brand-new black Camaro full of young college guys, probably from CSU in Fort Collins.
When Aria got out, they started hooting and hollering at her. The normal douchebag dickhead behavior of assholes traveling in a pack.
It was a whole lotta “Hey, Baby” and “Hot car, but yer hotter” and “You’ve got the longest legs I’ve ever seen. They start at the ground and go all the way up to heaven.”
Aria ignored them.
Tessa whispered, “What a bunch of jerks. Do they think that does anything other than make us feel uncomfortable?”
Steven felt like he normally did when faced with a bunch of guys who had more money, were better looking, and traveled in a herd. He felt awkward, uncomfortable, and scared.
But then something new trickled into his chest. Anger. He pushed the driver’s seat forward and stepped out. “You’re going to shut the fuck up right fucking now.”
He knew what was coming. All four of the guys piled out of the Camaro. “What did you say to us, dickweed?”
“You’re going to leave my friend alone,” Steven said. His chest tightened as his heart hammered in his ears. It was hard to talk, but he was going to stand up to them.
They were a collection of muscles, trendy jeans, and sunglasses, and of course, one wasn’t wearing a shirt. There was always the shirtless guy with the six-pack abs and biceps. Guys like that were never hairy and always blond.
The biggest guy stuck his face into Steven’s. “This is America. We can tell a girl she’s pretty if we want. And you can’t stop us.”
Tessa had gotten out of the car. Aria watched from the pump, not saying a word. Both watched him. Steven knew if he really put the hurt on these guys, it might draw the police, and something was going on with Aria. Midnight on Sunday was her deadline. They couldn’t waste time in a police station answering questions and filling out reports.
And Steven also knew if he dragoned out in front of them, it might bring the wrong sort of attention. From the little he’d read from the Drokharis Grimoire, Dragonsouls were forbidden to reveal themselves to humans.
“Hey, Tessa,” Steven said. “Can you throw me my coat?”
The shirtless guy sniggered, “What a collection. Hottie, Gothie, and dickless here, in a hundred-thousand-dollar car. One of these things doesn’t belong.”
Tessa tossed Steven the new coat he’d bought. It was warm outside, but he put it on anyway. He then pushed past the big guy and went to the Camaro. “It’s a nice car. I can admire it, but I don’t have to say shit. Like with my friend. She’s gorgeous, but making her feel uncomfortable is fucked up. As fucked up as this is gonna be.”
He transformed his left hand into a dragon claw and he changed his left arm into a scaled plate of armor. His coat concealed most of the change. Then he dug three talons into the paint of the front fender. His talons squealed on the metal as he walked down the car, ruining the pristine paint job.
All four guys were on him like stink on a monkey. Steven caught the first punch on his scaled arm, and he decked another. Whirling, he slammed his armored arm into the face of the shirtless guy. Blood poured down his chest.
The big guy, the fourth attacker, drove a fist into Steven’s face, but it was nothing compared to being hacked up with a magic sword. Steven was able to catch other punches on his scaled arm. The knuckles and bones of any fist that hit him cracked, leaving the hands broken and useless.
“He has iron in his jacket!” one of the douchebags howled.
Another just screamed, “My hand! My hand!” over and over.
All four of them were on the ground, in pain. Steven walked back to the Mercedes. “So, a little lesson here, treat women with respect and don’t go picking fights with people you don’t know. Four of you? One of me? You’re lucky you’re not all dead.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Someone obviously had called the cops.
Back in the Mercedes, Aria was the essence of calm as she slowly maneuvered her car back onto the main street, headed for the I-25 on-ramp.
Tessa started up the chatter, hard-core. “Oh my God, you took them down so fast. And yeah, you’re totally right. They outnumbered you, and if you hadn’t been, you know, a dragon, they would’ve hurt you. But next time, I bet they’ll think twice. Catcalls, such a waste of fucking breath and time.”
“You handled yourself well,” Aria said, faint approval shimmering beneath the words. “But pick your battles wisely next time. There was no need for the fight. You did hide your abilities, which is important. Any Dragonsoul who exposes our kind to the humans is immediately sentenced to death.”
As they pulled onto the freeway, Steven idly wondered if that was what happened to the Drokharis clan.
Five exits down, Aria pulled off the freeway so Tessa could snag her Donettes and bad gas-station coffee. Steven went for a ton of beef jerky, a bag of ranch-flavored CornNuts, and a bag of Oreos for dessert—assuming you didn’t count the Cherry-Coke Slurpee as dessert. Aria got a small coffee and a bag of trail mix that didn’t have any M&Ms. It was only a variety of nuts and fruit.
“We know who’s eating healthy here,” Tessa said. “And I will for lunch ... er, dinner, but now, I gots to have me my processed goodness.”
Outside, they sat at a picnic table the employees used for cigarette breaks under the shade of a co
ttonwood. The continuous stream of traffic on I-25 was loud, but the sound quickly became background noise they could ignore.
They ate, and Steven was amazed at how huge his appetite was.
Aria picked up a CornNut. “What is this?”
“Travel food,” Steven said. “I only ever get them on road trips. They’re originally from South America. You take a corn kernel, soak it for three days, and then deep fry it. Salt it down, ranch it up, and there you have it, a CornNut.”
She ate it and smiled. “Deep-fry anything and it’s good. Growing up in Mumbai, I would sneak away from my father’s Aerie and buy deep-fried peppers from the market. I’d get them in newspaper, and after I finished eating the peppers, I’d read about the strange things humans did.”
“We are wacky,” Tessa said. “And notice, I’m not smoking. I’m happy, being with you two on this adventure.”
Steven realized how great his life had become almost overnight. He was on a road trip with two beautiful women, and he was growing into his powers. Even that short fight with the dickheads had given him a boost of Animus. Yes, killing gave him the biggest dose of the mystical energy, but any fighting helped fuel him.
He couldn’t wait to learn more about his past. Again, he thought of what he had read.
The Magic of Ink. The Power of the Pen.
Which one would he find in Colorado Springs?
Chapter Sixteen
RIDING IN THE BACK seat, Steven called his mom again at work, and like before, her supervisor answered sounding annoyed. She said she would relay the message. Then she hung up on him.
Steven saw a sign for I-70.
“Let’s hit DIA really quick,” he said to Aria, pointing at the flashing green sign. “I can ask my mom directly what she knows. Her memory is a little off, she’s quirky, but it might help us.”
“No,” Aria said flatly. “We don’t have time. What she knows isn’t as important as what we might find at the next Drokharis Aerie. You have to grow into your powers, and quickly.”
