Twin Dragon’s Destiny

by S. E. Smith

  Stunned by the compassionate act, she slowly relaxed against Brogan’s chest. She pulled off the glove on her right hand, and reached up to touch him, but paused less than an inch from his chest as a wave of uncertainty hit her. What was she doing? These were aliens, dragons, creatures who could burn her to a crisp, devour her, and no one would know.

  Yet, even as those dark fears threatened to overwhelm her, the images of twin boys laughing and playing chased away the shadows. She remembered how their happiness had turned to confusion, then sadness before they hid their pain behind anger and indifference. Rejection hurt like that.

  She had to admit that though they had sometimes been thinking with the wrong head, they had never tried to hurt her, and after they had cleared up that drug-cartel-hitmen misunderstanding, they had left when she’d wanted them to.

  She closed the distance and flattened her hand against his smooth chest. Beneath her hand, she could feel the steady beat of his heart. Curious, she leaned her cheek against the silken scales and closed her eyes. Around her, his sharp claws curved inward, holding her to him in a grasp gentle enough to hold the most delicate butterfly.

  When Barrack nudged her arm, she opened her eyes and giggled when she saw his head partially in the cocoon that Brogan had made with his wings. He bumped her with the end of his nose again. It wasn’t difficult to understand what he wanted – a little attention too.

  She pulled her other glove off and turned so that her back was pressed against Brogan’s chest. Swallowing, she leaned forward and cupped Barrack’s long jaw with her hands. She gently ran her fingers along the underside, mesmerized by the power and nobility of such a magnificent mythical creature.

  When she touched a sensitive spot, his eyelids lowered and his rumble of pleasure shook the ground. She breathed a soft giggle and continued to scratch the spot. His tail thumped against the ground. Everything would have been fine if the two Rottweilers hadn’t decided that Barrack’s wiggling tail was a new toy. Her lips parted to warn him, but it was too late.

  She fell back against Brogan when Barrack quickly pulled his head back and turned his gaze on the playful pups. She strained to escape Brogan’s hold. She had to try to protect her idiot dogs. They apparently didn’t have an ounce of survival skills between them. Her fear that they were about to become dragon chow evaporated when, instead of toasting the pooches, Barrack buried his tail in the snow with only the wriggling tip sticking up.

  Of course, the dogs thought it was a fabulous new game of hide and seek. Barrack twisted back and forth, raising and lowering his tail until the dogs were covered in snow from trying to find it. Falling back in relief, she curled her arms around one of Brogan’s claws and watched from her warm perch.

  “I have a lot to learn about you guys,” she acknowledged.

  Brogan’s chest rumbled again. She wasn’t sure if it was laughter or satisfaction, but it was obvious from the way he bent to rub her hair that he approved of her comment. Now all she needed to do was figure out what in the hell was going on and why they were there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thirty minutes later, they were all inside the house again. The eye of the storm had passed and the tail end of the Nor’easter had begun sweeping through the area. The sound of the howling wind and snapping trees echoed through the air, sending a shiver through her.

  She had brushed off as much snow as she could before she’d brought the two Rottweilers in through the mudroom, and now she was pulling off their booties and sweaters, shaking the snow off of them, too.

  “Do all beasts require clothing?” Barrack asked, watching her towel off Moonshine.

  “What?” she asked, rubbing Moonshine’s back paw before reaching for Rum.

  “Your beasts... Do all of them wear clothing, and if so, how is it possible to dress all of them?” Barrack asked, watching her.

  Delilah shook her head in amusement. “No, not all dogs wear clothing. I saw these sweaters and booties at Ofelia’s and they were just too cute to pass up. It gets cold around here and Rottweilers aren’t the furriest dogs. I guess some would think I’m crazy for putting sweaters and booties on them, but I don’t want their feet to get frostbite,” she explained.

  She looked up when the outside door opened again. Brogan stepped inside and shook the snow from his hair. She lifted the towel to protect herself. Barrack wasn’t as lucky and was coated in the cold flakes.

  “You did that on purpose,” Barrack growled, wiping a hand down his face and looking at his brother.

  “Yes,” Brogan replied with a grin before he turned to look at her. “There was a dead tree near the transport shed. I removed it so that it would not fall on the shed.”

  She lowered the towel and looked at him in surprise. “Thank you. Bubba Joe was supposed to come up and cut it down for me last week, but his momma had to have surgery,” she said.

  Brogan’s face darkened and his lips twisted. “You have mentioned that name several times,” he commented.

  Delilah shrugged. “He’s been awesome,” she said. “Let’s go inside. The dogs are dry, and I’m freezing.”

  She hung the towel up on a hook and gathered the sweaters, booties, and her gloves. Pushing the kitchen door open, she waited for the dogs and the symbiots to enter before she followed them. Barrack and Brogan hesitated a moment before they followed, closing the door behind themselves.

  She could see the indecision on their faces, as if they weren’t quite sure what to do next. The rumbling in her stomach that had started before the sun came up was now at a full-fledged military salute. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost eleven thirty in the morning.

  No wonder I’m starving, she thought.

  “Why don’t you two go dry off or whatever. I need to hang these up and freshen up before I make an early lunch for us. After lunch, I’ll show you where you can sleep. Fortunately for you, I have beds in all the bedrooms,” she said over her shoulder.

  Not waiting for their reply, she hurried down the hallway to the front door. A quick glance in the sitting room showed that the dogs and the symbiots had already confiscated the room. It looked like the human/aliens would be restricted to the other parlor, dining room, or kitchen.

  There was a small sitting room upstairs, but it would be too cramped for the three of them. She liked to use it during the summer because the breeze coming down from the mountain would keep the room cool. She hung the dogs’ sweaters and booties to dry on the hall tree before removing her outerwear and hanging them as well. Sitting down on the bench seat, she removed her boots.

  Wiggling her sock covered toes, she sighed in relief. She hated wearing shoes. The boots were comfortable as long as she wore double layers.

  “What is wrong? Are you in pain?” Barrack asked, leaning against the doorframe to the sitting room.

  “Geez, you scared me!” she exclaimed, lifting a hand to her chest. She could actually feel her heart skip a few beats. “How can someone so big, be so quiet?” she grumbled, standing up and walking toward the staircase.

  “We would have died long ago if not for our ability to move without detection,” Barrack answered.

  Pausing on the first step, she turned to look at him. “How old are you?” she curiously asked.

  Barrack shrugged. “Age is irrelevant to us. We stopped counting hundreds of years ago,” he said. “Do you know your age?”

  Delilah swallowed and nodded. “Twenty-nine. I’m only twenty-nine. You were serious, weren’t you? You and Brogan…. You guys are like really old,” she murmured.

  “Yes, especially compared to you,” he quietly replied.

  Stunned, she nodded and lowered her gaze. She turned and slowly walked up the stairs, retracing her steps to her bedroom. She used the restroom, noticing the bucket of water next to the toilet. Brogan must have brought it up when she was drying off the dogs.

  After washing and drying her hands, she returned to her bedroom. She walked to the window, and stared out at the storm, becoming
lost in thought. She wrapped her arms around her waist. How could life change so much and so unexpectedly in such a short time? A sound behind her drew her attention back to the present.

  Barrack’s symbiot had followed her. She shook her head in disgust when it jumped up on the bed, turned in a circle, and lay down – on her side. If that wasn’t bad enough, it reached over with one paw and dragged her pillow closer, snuggling up with it before lying still. Walking over to the bed, she reached down and scratched the Werecat behind one golden ear before bending over and brushing her lips across its temple.

  “This is my side of the damn bed. Don’t get too comfortable,” she murmured as warmth filled her.

  Straightening, she walked out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. She would make lunch and then there would be some questions and answers. It was time to find out more about her unexpected guests and what they wanted.

  “God, I hope it isn’t world domination. That would totally suck,” she muttered.

  Twenty minutes later, she poured three bowls of soup and flipped the last grilled cheese sandwich out of the frying pan. She looked at the men through lowered eyelashes. They were quietly sitting and talking at the table in the dining room. She added an extra sandwich to each of their plates and decided it was a good thing she knew how to bake. She had a feeling she would be cooking a little more than she normally did.

  To prepare for the storm, she had brought extra groceries and stocked the freezer. The house in town had an electric stove, but this one had gas, so it didn’t matter if the power was out. Of course, she was less likely to lose power for long in town. Still, if she had to choose between the two places, she would rather be here.

  This house brought back fond memories of her grandmother and mom baking and canning while her granddad and dad worked on a variety of different projects ranging from tinkering with the old tractor, which was still in the barn, to being the official taste-testers for new recipes.

  At this house, she could bake to her heart’s content without worrying about heating it up, and she could store at least three months’ worth or more of quick meals that she could pop into the microwave back in town.

  “Lunch is ready,” she called, looking over her shoulder with a smile when she heard footsteps behind her.

  “It smells good. I did not realize how hungry I was until you started cooking,” Barrack admitted.

  “Here, if you don’t mind carrying the plates in, I’ll bring the soup. What would you guys like to drink? I have water, milk, iced tea, hot tea, or coffee – oh, and orange juice, but not a lot because it’s expensive,” she added with an apologetic expression.

  “Water is fine,” Barrack said.

  “I will take the soup,” Brogan said, looking at the noodles uncertainly.

  “Thanks. I’ll grab the drinks, then,” she replied.

  Pouring a cup of hot tea for herself, she grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator and stepped into the dining room. Brogan pulled out a chair for her and she slid into the seat with a smile and a murmur of thanks. Her gaze followed him until he sat down on her right. Barrack sat across from her. Both men looked down at their plates with expressions of resignation on their faces. She saw that their eyes kept moving to the bowl of noodles.

  “Don’t you like pasta?” she asked, picking up her fork and twirling it in her bowl.

  “No, this is good,” Barrack said, shooting his brother a look of warning that was impossible to miss.

  Delilah stopped turning her fork and laid it against the edge of the bowl. She folded her hands under her chin and studied both of the men. A faint flush appeared on Brogan’s cheeks, and he moved uncomfortably in his seat before he looked away.

  “Okay, what is it? You don’t like pasta? You don’t like grilled cheese sandwiches? You are gluten free aliens?” she demanded.

  “The meal is fine, Delilah. We will enjoy all of it, won’t we, Brogan?” Barrack stated, picking up the toasted bread sandwich filled with a faintly orange goo.

  “I don’t like Terrestris,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “You don’t like what?” she asked, confused.

  Brogan released a growl of frustration and looked up at her with an apologetic expression. “Terrestris. The Tiliqua like them, but they eat insects. Dragons don’t like to eat insects if they can help it. At least not long ones like this. They are squishy inside,” he muttered.

  “You think…. I don’t know what a Tiliqua or a Terrestris is, but you think the noodles are like worms?” she asked.

  “We will eat whatever you prepare for us,” Barrack insisted, shooting Brogan a fierce scowl.

  Delilah looked down at her bowl. Picking up her fork, she studied the noodles. They did look like worms. In fact, that is what some of the kids at the dollar store called them. She looked up at the men and grinned.

  “This is pasta. It is not worms or Terrestris or a Tiliqua, whatever that is. It is in a chicken broth and I added some bits of baked chicken to it to give it a little protein,” she stated, lifting up her fork.

  “It looks like Terrestris,” Brogan insisted.

  Delilah shook her head and took a bite. “Take a bite. If you don’t like it, I’ll make something else. What exactly do you normally eat?” she asked, tearing part of her sandwich off and dipping it in the broth. She figured that if they saw her enjoying the meal, maybe – just maybe – they would at least taste it and see that she was telling the truth. “As long as it isn’t me or the dogs, I might have it on hand.”

  Both men watched her as she ate. She had eaten almost half of her soup and sandwich before Barrack reluctantly raised part of the sandwich to his mouth.

  She smiled in satisfaction when his eyes widened in surprise, and he took several more bites. She watched Brogan frown at his brother before he tried the grilled cheese sandwich. He grunted and took a larger bite.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked, licking her fingers before she wiped them on the paper towel next to her plate.

  “This is good. This orange stuff, I remember something like it from our village,” Barrack admitted.

  She noticed that he had finished the first sandwich and was already working on the second. She looked at Brogan who had finished both sandwiches and was sniffing suspiciously at the noodles on his fork. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and took a bite. She grinned when his eyes opened wide, and he looked down at the bowl of soup with a different expression.

  “This is not Terrestris,” he exclaimed, twirling his fork in the bowl and lifting a large forkful to his mouth. “It is good.”

  Within minutes, both men were hungrily polishing off the rest of their lunch. Delilah stood up when they were almost finished, went to the kitchen, and refilled her hot tea. Then she picked up her cup and the lemon-glazed pound cake on the counter and carried it into the dining room. She cut a generous slice and placed it on each plate.

  “Now you can have your dessert,” she teased.

  A soft rumbling growl filled the room and both men stared at her with those strange little flames in their eyes. Blushing, she tapped her fork against her plate to let them know that it was the cake and not her that was being served. Shaking her head, she sat down with a contented sigh.

  “Okay, now that we all have full bellies, I want to know everything,” she stated, picking up her hot tea and sipping it.

  “Everything?” Brogan asked, his mouth full and his eyes wary.

  “Everything,” she repeated with a stern look. “Tell me where you’re from, how you got here, why you’re here, when are you leaving – heck, can you even leave? Did you guys crash here? How long did it take to get here?”

  There was a moment of silence. They looked at each other, and the range of expressions flashing across their faces gave her the impression that they were talking to each other without moving their lips. Finally, Brogan’s expression turned stubborn and Barrack became resigned.

  “Our story begins in a simple village…,” Barrack said.


  Chapter Fourteen

  Brogan moodily stared out the window. The snow continued to fall with a thickness that made it virtually impossible to see more than a few feet from the house. He could hear the snap and the groan of the trees as the wind rushed through the forest.

  “Are you going to stand there all day?” Barrack asked, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe to the kitchen.

  Looking at Barrack over his shoulder, Brogan shook his head. No, he wouldn’t stand here all day. He was waiting for the kettle to sing so he could make Delilah another cup of the tea that she enjoyed.

  In the background, he could hear the music she had turned on. He walked past his brother into the kitchen when he heard the kettle start to boil. Glancing at his brother’s face, he noted that Barrack wanted to talk.

  “She will accept us,” Brogan murmured as he pulled the covering off the loose tea, poured it into the little gadget she used, and dropped into a tall cup. “I thought she did well considering everything that you told her.”

  Barrack pushed off the doorframe and walked over to lean against the counter. “You could have helped a little,” he complained.

  Brogan shrugged. “You were doing fine,” he quietly said.

  Brogan stiffened when his brother laid a hand on his shoulder. Turning his head to look into his twin’s eyes, he grimaced. It was impossible to mask his feelings of doubt when he had such an intimate connection with his brother.

  “She is confused and scared, but she listened and did not reject us,” Barrack said.

  Brogan tore his gaze away. “We can’t let her die,” he stated in a soft voice.

  Barrack squeezed his shoulder. “We won’t, brother. We won’t,” he swore.

  Brogan’s lips twitched. He picked up the cup of tea and turned to look at his brother. He felt better – more confident. His brother was right, she didn’t reject them.