Ash Bringer (A Storm of Fire: Paranormal Dragonshifter Romance Book 1)

by Courtney Leigh

  When I was behind my opponent, I spun around and jabbed the glass into the back of his leg. Standing, I yanked the glass free and cut the back of his arm, exposing an artery. He turned with another slow, strong swing, the blood on his blade splashing across my chest. I leaned away from his attack and then swiped again, that time across his throat. Red droplets dotted my face and slowly the man’s movements became more sluggish. He grasped his throat in disbelief, blood flowing through his fingers. I stepped away as he attempted to advance, but he fell to his knees at the head of a crimson trail of his own blood, then toppled forward at my feet.

  There was a long moment of quiet. Then the mobs rose up in a storm of cheers, screaming, and clapping that shook me to the bone. My chest was heaving with adrenaline as the glass dropped from my bleeding hand and clanked on the hard floor. Looking up, I saw myself on the big screen, filthy with blood and sweat. I didn’t even recognize myself, but the longer I stared the more I realized that I’d won. I’d won.

  6

  Everly

  . . .

  Guards brought me to the infirmary once the arena had calmed. Only then, when the adrenaline began to dissolve, did the pain of my injuries finally start to get to me. My whole body felt broken. The glass made my skin burn and suddenly my head was swimming in an overabundance of oxygen. They escorted me to the same nurse and I sat on a high hospital bed. I was shaking. Looking at my cut up hands I started to feel the sting of the abrasions that littered my palms.

  “Here,” the nurse said, handing me a white mug filled with water.

  I took it in my less-shredded hand and drank two large gulps. The mug was smeared with blood as I set it on a tray beside me and looked around. The infirmary was a colorless place. The walls were grey concrete and the curtains were white and the whole place smelled like disinfectant. It wasn’t exactly a comfort, but it was easier to focus on than my injuries.

  As the nurse—a middle-aged woman with curly, blonde hair—helped me take off my shirt, I could feel the glass from my skin scraping away with my clothes. I tensed until it was off of me and I was looking at the mess that was my left arm and ribs. Cuts and holes everywhere, some with the glass still embedded. The nurse doused me in disinfectant, which stung like a bitch, and began fishing for glass and pulling the pieces from my skin with a pair of metal tweezers.

  “So,” the nurse spoke as she dropped the pieces of glass in a bowl nearby. “You won. How does it feel?”

  “Like I got thrown through a hundred windows and run over by a horse,” I said.

  “Well I was betting on the other guy, but I can’t say it wasn’t exciting to see you win. Why’d you compete? Money? Property? Fame? Marriage to a Draak? That request has come here a few times. From men and women alike,” she scoffed.

  I didn’t want to answer. I just wanted to meet with the Draak in charge as soon as possible to get it all over with. I heard Ronan’s voice echo through the infirmary and I looked up to see him jogging in with a big smile on his face.

  “Everly, you won!” he said with excitement.

  I’d have been happy to see Ronan if he were alone, but he wasn’t. Walking beside him was a man of massive size. The Draak from the viewing box. I could feel the force of his presence the moment he entered the infirmary. I hadn’t really met too many Draak, but their appearance was unmistakable. Despite the dislike I had for the species, no human alive could deny their otherworldly sense of beauty and rugged draw.

  The Draak was tall and thick with muscle. Dark hair was cut short like the boy’s and tastefully pulled from his face. His already cut features were made even sharper with a well-trimmed beard that framed the intrigued smirk on his lips. He wore a black, cotton shirt and a leather jacket and walked as most Draak did. Like he was too big for the room and could crush anyone in his path. He stepped in like he fucking owned the place, and he probably did.

  Ronan walked up to the high bedside and looked up at my bleeding wounds like they were just smears of dirt. I suspected he’d seen all kinds of violence in his youth having been raised to think of the race as nothing more than a game. I still didn’t like that he witnessed the bloodshed with such a casual look on his face, but he was Draak. He’d grow up like the rest of them. Thinking of humans as a lesser race.

  “I knew you’d win,” Ronan said. “My brothers told me I betted wrong, but I knew you’d do it.”

  I looked up at the man standing behind Ronan, suspecting that was one of the brothers he kept mentioning. The man’s eyes were a bright silver that glistened hotly in the light. They were captivating and terrifying. The man looked at me like I was a dog who had just performed an incredible trick and smiled.

  “He couldn’t stop talking about you,” he said in a deep, rough voice that matched his presence. “It’s a good thing you won or he would have been devastated. This was his first time placing a bet. Of course, now that he’s won, I fear he’ll be addicted to the gamble.”

  Despite the man’s tone, I couldn’t engage in the conversation. He spoke too carelessly about the sport and about the boy’s observation of it. When I didn’t respond I saw his eyes travel down the length of me toward the many small wounds that riddled my skin. The nurse was pulling the glass out the whole time he spoke, cleaning the holes as she went.

  “You’re Everly?” the man asked. Or rather demanded.

  My disconnection already seemed to irritate him as if I was an animal unwilling to do what its master wanted.

  “Everly,” I said with a nod. “Everly Ghlass.”

  “Ghlass,” the man raised his brows, glancing once more at the bloody shards piling up in the bowl beside me. “Funny.”

  “Hilarious,” I said flatly.

  “Once you've cleaned up you can make your request to the Draakir. Keera will take you,” he gestured behind him where a woman in a hooded, red coat stood with her hands locked neatly in front of her.

  I hadn’t even noticed her before. She was a tiny, quiet thing and nodded when the man looked at her.

  “We’ll see you soon,” the man said, placing a hand on Ronan’s back to direct him out of the infirmary.

  I watched the two Draak leave with a mild scowl on my face and then looked at my appointed escort in red. She stepped up toward the bedside and removed her hood to reveal a head of black hair cut close to her scalp in a pixie style that matched the young features of her face. She had rosy cheeks, umber eyes, and full lips that any man would desire, but she held herself like a meek damsel.

  “Hello,” she said to me, hands locked together in front of her. “I’m Keera.”

  “Everly,” I said, wincing when the nurse began dabbing my wounds with more antiseptic. “People call me Ever. Or Eve. Depends on how lazy you are.”

  The young woman smiled with amusement and covered her mouth shyly with her hand. She waited there patiently as the nurse patched me up and then walked with me to the dorms where my belongings were still sitting on the bed. I dressed in another pair of black, leather pants and a cotton shirt before letting my hair down to cover the nicks on my neck and chest. It fell around my face in a waterfall of wavy strands, slightly crusted with sweat and blood, but I didn’t care too much. All I could think about was getting my request to the Draakir before I had to spend too much time in the presence of more Draak. I grabbed my other jacket and tossed it over my arm before urging Keera out.

  Keera escorted me onto the street and began walking east through the city. The Draakir building wasn’t far from the Arena as winners of the Red Race wanted to get their prize as soon as possible. As we walked, I could see eyes on me at every corner. I pulled out a grey scarf and draped it over my head like a hood to cover my distinguishable hair, walking with a purpose so no one would stop me.

  “You’re famous now,” Keera said. “Embrace it. People will want to give you gifts.”

  “That’s not why I did it,” I said.

  “But it’s the result either way.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest only to n
otice that small patches of blood were showing through the thin fabric of my long sleeves. Discretion wasn’t going to be easy if I didn’t keep my pace. I threw my jacket over my sore limbs and pulled the scarf lower around my face.

  “So who was that guy in the infirmary?” I asked Keera.

  “That was Lukan,” Keera answered. “The master of my house.”

  “Hmf. Master, huh? How’d that happen?”

  “My parents volunteered me into servitude when I was young. They couldn’t take care of me. I’m happy to serve. The Draak are—”

  “Stop right there. If you’re about to say some bullshit about them being almighty or godly, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I was going to say strong, although those other things wouldn’t be wrong. You entered the competition. You must believe their presence here is more than just a coincidence.”

  “I think the Draak found a world full of weak people and took advantage of it. And I didn’t enter the race to contribute to the entertainment. I entered for other reasons. Everyone does. They just pretend otherwise.”

  “Perhaps. Many people think the Draak are superior to—”

  “They’re not superior. They bleed like we do. If they didn’t, then slayers wouldn’t make such a good living off of their deaths in the outer territories.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “How can you devote yourself to someone who treats you like a dog?”

  “Lukan doesn’t treat me like a dog. He treats me very well.”

  “Right,” I snorted. “Has he taken you to bed? Ever made you do things against your will? Did he put that stupid mark on you that keeps you from leaving him?”

  “A mark isn’t for that. It’s—”

  “I know. It allows you to have their children. To populate the world with more of them. It means you’re bound to them for life. It’s a leash.”

  “A leash isn’t a good metaphor. It’s more like—”

  I laughed over Keera’s voice. “At least you seem happy getting treated like shit.”

  We continued walking in silence for a while. I could tell that I’d offended the young lady, but a big part of me didn’t care. Her eyes were taped shut and she didn’t even know it. Either that or she was just a glutton for abuse, because I hadn’t met one servant of the Draak that wasn’t mistreated in some way. It disgusted me, but I needed to pretend it didn’t for a while longer so I could make my demands.

  When we arrived at the Draakir building I looked up at it as if I’d never seen it before. I had of course, but this time I was going inside and suddenly the whole situation felt unreal. Outside, there was a crowd of people gathered, and by the red paint that splattered their attire, I could tell they were hard fans of the Red Race and were waiting for me to show up. The mobs were like a river I had to cross to get to my destination and I was suddenly afraid I’d be swept away. Never before had I been the subject of so much attention.

  I stopped, my eyes planted on the massive, white pillars that stood on either side of the red doors that made the entrance into the building. Taurus suspected it used to be a courthouse before the war turned everything around. Now it was a place for Draak politicians to do whatever the hell they did, and only when the Draakir met with the Order, the human council, did humans set foot in the building. Today it was there for me to speak with them and ask for a favor. They were obligated to grant it, although I was sure my request was about to catch them off guard.

  “Come,” Keera beckoned, walking across the brick street to the large building.

  I eyed the crowd, hoping my presence wouldn’t bring attention. Taking a deep breath, I followed Keera to the entrance, hanging my head in an attempt to repel prying stares. All I wanted was for this silly charade to end so I could get what remained of my life back.

  7

  Everly

  . . .

  Keera and I had managed to get through the mob unscathed and once we’d gotten past the large doors, guards stood outside to keep the crowd at bay. They shouted after me with excitement, each one wanting to touch me as I passed like I could bless their unborn children or something. Not me. I didn’t give a shit about any of them or their shallow obsessions.

  Inside, the floors were a slick, white marble that reflected light like the surface of a placid pool. It was quiet and cold and the ceiling stretched up three stories to a large skylight that brightened the interior. Tile murals decorated the walls showing images of Greek trials and philosophical artwork. It was distractingly beautiful and slowed my step for a small moment before I remembered why I was there and walked on.

  Keera brought me to a grand staircase that led up to the second floor and around an open foyer overlooking the lobby. She stopped at the third door on the right and opened it before I could gather myself. We stepped inside and suddenly I felt like I was in over my head. I didn’t even feel that nervous during the competition. Fists and knives were predictable. Verbal negotiation was a territory I knew little about.

  The room was large with one wall completely lined with old books and paintings. It smelled like burning wood and incense, two aromas that screamed Draak and made my muscles tense. In the middle of the room was a large, oval table on top of which was a tray of metal cups and a pitcher of water. Along the opposite wall stood four ladies in red, silk shirts and black skirts. Keera paced over to join them while I focused my thoughts on the three men in the room.

  One was sitting at the table. Lukan. He had a cup of water in his hand and looked at me with the same, curious crease in his brows. It was almost friendly, but his eyes kept reminding me of what he was.

  Standing at the end of the table was an elegantly dressed man with silvery hair slicked back from his classically attractive features. He wore a white, tailored suit that added to the purity of his appearance and his pale, blue eyes riddled with specks of gold, burned with a certain danger like all the rest. He wasn’t as tall as Lukan and his build was slender and graceful.

  By the giant, brick fireplace, I studied the third Draak. He looked at me like a predator would a wounded deer. Almond shaped eyes the color of red, burning embers pierced right through me like hot pokers through butter. Slightly sun-golden skin made him look hot to the touch and copper hair hung past his shoulders. The unkempt tresses mixed with small braids made him look like he was from another era. A much older one. He was dressed in a worn, leather coat that hung to his knees, covered in studs and lacing down the sleeves. He looked awkward indoors as if he was a feral wolf being forced to sleep on a velvet bed. Sharp cheekbones and a squared jaw seemed carved from stone and despite the clean-shaven face, he looked more dangerous than the other two Draak put together. I narrowed my eyes at him and turned my attention to the one in white. Of the three, he looked to be the most diplomatic one.

  “Everly Ghlass,” he said, flashing sharp fangs when he spoke. They all had them. Another sign that they were far from human. “My name is Ares. Please have a seat.”

  “No thank you,” I refused.

  “If you’re to request any compensation or property for your win this might take a while to conclude. There are documents we’d have to go over.”

  “I don’t want any of those things.”

  “Marriage to an eligible Draak of your choosing? Food for your town?” he began to list. “Passage to another sector perhaps? If you’re on the run, your pardon can be granted. I understand that you’re from the border towns. There must have been a good reason that you entered the Red Race. Often volunteers are quite dedicated members of the sectors, and if not, they’re usually desperate. Which is it?”

  I stepped deeper into the room with a firm gate. This was the moment of truth.

  “Neither,” I confessed. “There’s a man in Raven Heights Prison. A Pike. His name is Taurus Black and I want him freed.”

  The room fell deathly silent. I could see the men’s faces stiffen. Lukan and Ares tossed each other a glance that I couldn’t read while the man near the fire scoffed at my reque
st as if it was a joke. No one gave me a response for a long while until I shifted my weight with impatience.

  “It’s an odd request,” Ares said. “Unlike anything we’ve received in the past decade.”

  “But it’s what I want. I don’t want money or food or a mansion or marriage to someone I don’t even know. I want him out of prison. It’s simple.”

  “Not really,” the copper-haired Draak spoke, his voice smooth, but not like silk. Like the edge of a sharpened blade that could cut through anything. “Taurus Black is a slayer. He’s to be executed in two days.”

  “Then free him before then,” I said unblinkingly.

  “It’s a little complicated,” Ares said, stepping toward me. “Taurus Black isn’t just a slayer. He’s a former member of the resistance and he killed one of our own. Our brother, Valerio.”

  “I know.”

  “Valerio was a highly respected and valued Draakir member,” Lukan added. “Killing any council member is bad enough. Not only that, but he was an Ash Bringer.”

  “Actually,” Ares added. “He wasn’t even just an Ash Bringer. He was the Archon. Do you have any idea what that means?”

  “Was I supposed to have learned what all these titles are?” I raised a brow.

  “If you’re a civilian inside a sector, yes. Even a border dweller should respect the system.”

  “Taurus didn’t do it,” I said, diverting attention away from where I was from.

  “His confession would beg to differ. Ash Bringers don’t just die. That slaying was not a simple crime.”

  “It wasn’t a simple race. I won. You pardon people every day. You have that power, so free him.”

  “We don’t pardon murderers,” the copper-haired man said with a glare.

  “Bullshit,” I spit out. “Do you even know your own race? Plenty of your contestants have done worse than him and you all ignore it so you can profit. Taurus is a good man.”