Trapped by the Dragon

by Riley Storm

  “Infected!” he howled and prepared to strike.

  There was no time to get in position to properly absorb it. Rane flung himself forward, shielding the children an instant before his back erupted in agony as he took the impact square on at close range.

  “Go inside, close your door,” he said, sagging. “Altair, what are you doing!”

  “They’re coming. The walls are fallen,” Altair moaned. “Get to Fortress Glacis!”

  Rane blinked in surprise, straightening painfully. “Fortress Glacis?” he repeated, naming the place the dragons had made their last stand. Back on Dracia, before fleeing to Earth, before the portal that wouldn’t close. Before Winterspell and the witches.

  He turned, giving Altair a closer look. It was then, he realized, that his clansmen wasn’t sick, that he wasn’t losing his mind. He was having a nightmare, a nightmare about one of his last battles before he’d arrived at Glacis.

  The dragons didn’t talk much about those last, desperate battles. Rane knew terrible, horrible things had happened, but he hadn’t appreciated just how much it had affected some of the dragons.

  “Altair, you need to wake up,” he said, only a few feet away from his kin now. “Altair, wake up. You’re in a dream. We’re safe. The children are safe.”

  “Safe?” Altair said wildly. “Nobody is safe from them. They will always find a way.”

  Rane took a step closer, hands up in front of him. “It’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay, Altair. The fight is over. You can relax now.”

  Damien appeared in the hallway behind the tormented dragon.

  “You’re having a dream, Altair,” Rane repeated, focusing his eyes on Damien. “We’re safe. Everyone is safe. You can relax. There are no threats here.”

  Damien’s eyes narrowed immediately as he picked up what Rane was saying. The other dragon crept forward stealthily.

  Then together, they both leapt out and wrapped up Altair, each taking an arm as they bore him to the ground, holding him tight as he struggled. Lightning flashed and sparked across the walls all around them as the two conscious dragons tried to subdue their friend. Stone chipped and fell on the combatants as the lightning grew stronger.

  Then Damien punched Altair in the face.

  The dragon relaxed immediately, returning to blissful unconsciousness. Both Rane and Damien sighed and sagged to the ground, exhausted from struggling with one of their kind, even for the thirty seconds or so that it had been.

  “Damien!” Anna came rushing around the corner as soon as it was apparent the threat was over.

  Rane watched this happen. He would have expected to feel some jealousy of his friend, but instead what he felt was fear. Fear for Anna, and for Natasha if she’d been there. What if it hadn’t been him coming up the stairs? What if it had been one of the women?

  What if Damien had been having the nightmare instead? What if he’d been with Natasha, and it had been Rane?

  “Rane?” Damien asked, noting the look on his face. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  After all, what else was he going to say? Rane needed someone to talk to, someone he could be open about all this with. Damien had Anna, but Rane…The only person Rane was comfortable talking to had said she never wanted to see him again.

  He slumped back against the wall, trying to get rid of nightmares of his own as he relived his short fight with Altair over and over again, trying to ignore the anguish he’d seen on the storm dragon’s face, or heard in his voice.

  But he couldn’t. It sliced right to the bone.

  What was he going to do?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Natasha

  “That…looks about right, doesn’t it?”

  Natasha leaned over to inspect her friend’s work. She glanced down at the book, then back at the rune carved into the staff. “I think so. I can’t see any obvious defects in it.”

  Sara sat back, admiring the work.

  “Why are you making a staff in the first place?”

  “Well Nat, I wanted to try something different,” Sara began in a monotone lecturing voice.

  “Class project, got it,” Natasha said with a laugh. “I couldn’t imagine you wanting to lug that big thing around all the time.”

  Sara shrugged. “I don’t know. I was always anti-staff too, but I have to admit Nat, it feels…solid. Here, catch.”

  Natasha yelped in surprise but managed to catch the roughly four-foot-long hunk of wood. Standing up, she gripped it tightly in one hand. There was a certain…solidity, to it.

  “Okay, maybe,” she admitted. “But it’s not for me. Here.” She passed it back.

  “Well how’s your ward bracelet coming?” Sara wanted to know.

  “I made the bracelet,” Natasha volunteered helplessly, holding up the silver-banded creation, its sides completely smooth, devoid of any markings whatsoever.

  “That’s a very pretty silver bracelet,” Sara teased. “Do you plan on doing anything more with it?”

  “Maybe.” Natasha got up, stealing the staff back as she walked into the middle of her room. “But then I got distracted by your lovely wooden shaft,” she joked, dropping her voice as low as she could, grabbing firmly on to the staff and leaning over it.

  “Oh, my God,” Sara said. “What the hell is wrong with you?” But she was laughing.

  The truth—a truth she could never tell her friend, because Sara simply wouldn’t be able to accept it—was that Natasha was doing anything and everything she could to keep her mind off Rane. Whatever it took, even being as ridiculous as she possible could come up with, for a laugh.

  “I’m sorry,” she went on. “It’s wonderful.” Grabbing the staff in both hands, she jabbed one end out, in what she assumed was a fighting move. “Hiyah!”

  Then she spun and did it again. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it.”

  “Nat…”

  “Not now,” she barked. “I’m training.” She spun again and swept the staff up—

  Only to have it stop so solidly the vibrations flung her hands free from it.

  “Rane?” Natasha said, gaping at the figure in the now open doorway, clutching the staff just inches short of the end slamming into his crotch. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said softly.

  “What are you doing here?” she wanted to know, irritated at the distraction. She’d been doing so well trying to put him out of her mind. Now not only was he back, but Sara was here and she would tell everyone what was going on. “I don’t want to go over this. Not now, okay? I told you what I had to tell you earlier and…”

  Natasha trailed off as the look on Rane’s face registered with her mind. It wasn’t his normal stoicism, or even a sad smile as he looked upon the one he’d lost. Nothing that she expected, not the potential hope of someone who thought they’d found an argument to make to win her back.

  Instead, she saw exhaustion and a deep-seated terror in his eyes. A fear.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, taking the staff from his hand and absently passing it off to Sara.

  Rane didn’t reply, but he looked at her with a helplessness that cut to her soul. This wasn’t about her and him, not really at least. Something had happened, something between when she’d broken up with him earlier, and now. Whatever it was, it was bad.

  “Sara,” she said, not tearing her eyes away from Rane. “You’re good right?”

  “What? What do you mean good?”

  “You don’t need my help. You’ve got this, you’re fine. I’ll…I’ll be back,” she said, brushing past her friend and taking Rane by the arm. “I need to handle this.”

  Sara looked at her and then Rane, connections forming. “Oh, I see.”

  Great. Now I’m going to have to deal with Sara as well. Wonderful.

  But that could wait for later. Right now, Rane needed her, and she couldn’t resist the need to be there for him. To help him with whatever he needed. It hurt too much to see him like this.


  They walked back to his quarters in silence. Natasha wondered if he was ever going to speak.

  The instant the door closed behind them though, she heard the weakest, most pathetic, sad-sounding noise come from Rane. That was it, just the one sound.

  “Rane what happened?” she asked, taking him to a chair. This, she realized, was her first time in his quarters. Her eyes darted around briefly but returned to Rane after a second as he slumped into the seat without any of his usual grace or carefully concealed strength.

  Something is really, really wrong.

  “After…after earlier,” he said, avoiding going into detail about what happened between them. “I went up to the walls. I had some thinking to do. A lot of thinking to do. It was late when I came back,” he said, voice quiet, strained. “Maybe an hour ago at most. When I came upstairs…”

  She frowned but stayed quiet, sensing that he needed to get this out.

  “Altair was there,” he said. “But it wasn’t him. He was having a dream. A waking nightmare, really. He attacked me and—”

  “Are you okay?” she yelped, interrupting without meaning too. “Rane, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he assured her, holding out his hands. “A bruise or two, nothing serious. It wasn’t the fight that was the issue. It was…it was why.”

  She sat back in horror as Rane explained the nightmare scenario, of one of his last battles back on Dracia. Of the cries for the children, about them being taken. She saw the way it had affected Rane, so very deeply.

  “It was just a nightmare,” she said at the end. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It was more than that though,” he said, getting up, pacing the room, pausing at the entrance to his bedroom. “Nobody else was around, Nat. But what if they had been? What if Damien had the nightmare and Anna was around? Or…he fell silent, but the weight with which his gaze fell upon her said all that needed to be said.

  What if it had been him…with her.

  Things clicked with her then.

  “You’re afraid to sleep now,” she said. “Is that it?”

  Rane looked down, and she could sense his shame in not answering, in confirming her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come to you,” he said. “I just…I didn’t know who else to go to,” he confessed. “I’ve screwed this up even worse now, haven’t I?”

  He stood up in embarrassment. Natasha tried to wave him back to his seat, but he wasn’t having any of it. She got up as he went to the door, making it clear she was free to leave.

  Natasha had a decision to make. Leave, and return to Sara and their projects, to her schooling, or stay. With Rane, in his quarters, forsaking her school and everything she’d been working so hard toward.

  It should have been an easy decision. All it would take was for her to breeze through the door and waltz on back to her room. Just like that, she would put strength to her claim earlier that day that she didn’t want to see Rane anymore. That she needed space from him. This would prove it.

  Yet as she approached him and the door, her footsteps slowed. Rane was hurting, he was in pain, and he’d come to her for help. What sort of person would she be if she left him in the state he was? That wasn’t the sort of person she wanted to be.

  “I’m sorry I bothered you,” Rane said, reaching for the door and starting to pull it open.

  Natasha made her decision.

  “No,” she said, lifting her own hand.

  Rane tugged, but the door stayed still. He frowned in surprise and glanced at it, only then noticing the blue light glowing across its face. “What are you doing?” he asked, making the connection between the light and her raised arm.

  “Stopping you from kicking me out, I thought it was obvious,” she said, a weak attempt at a joke.

  “Why?” Rane asked. “You said you didn’t want to see me any longer?”

  Natasha sighed. “You’re hurting, okay. I wouldn’t be a good person if I left. Come on.” She reached out and took his other hand, pulling him back from the door.

  “Back inside,” she explained, tugging hard.

  Rane came along, following her like a puppy dog. She got him in the proper position and tried to push him down onto the couch, but he didn’t move. Natasha just rebounded off his chest.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked, looking up as she went to gently push on him again.

  This time, he caught both her hands and pulled her in tight.

  Before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her. Surprised sounds slipped from between their lips, but Natasha didn’t pull back. She wanted it too badly. Wanted him too badly.

  It wasn’t long before her hands were linked around his neck and Rane was sliding one hand up her back, the other already holding her head tight to him. She could feel the power in his arms, the thickness of his biceps pressed against her. He was such a godly specimen…did that include his—

  She reddened in his arms, embarrassed at her own thoughts. Just that morning, she’d tried to break up with Rane. Yet here she was, a clear example that her earlier thoughts had been little more than a lie. A lie brought about because of another lie, both of which would hurt Rane. A man who was already hurting.

  Rane’s hands slipped under her shirt, running up her sides, over her breasts, teasing of pleasures to come. Natasha sighed softly at his touch, wanting him to continue, to touch her all over, to take her and have his way with her. She wanted it so badly.

  But she couldn’t have it. Steeling herself, she grabbed at him and stopped his hands from roaming further.

  “No,” she said softly, shaking her head, the shame and guilt at her actions weighing more heavily than her desire to sleep with Rane, which wasn’t light. She wanted him, badly, but she couldn’t.

  Not after what she’d already done. If he ever found out, it would devastate him.

  Rane shuddered and pulled back, confusion writ on his face, but she couldn’t explain to him. Not right now at least.

  “I’m not here for that tonight,” she said, giving him a sad smile. “But I am here. Come.”

  Frowning in confusion, Rane followed as she pulled him into the bedroom. Natasha felt bad giving him mixed signals, but she didn’t want to leave him, not when he was still hurting at least. Without doing anything sexual, she had him lie down on the bed.

  Then she sat on the edge.

  “What are you doing?” he wanted to know, before suddenly stifling a yawn.

  Natasha had suspected as much. After everything he’d told her, and the pain he was clearly exhibiting, there was no way that Rane wasn’t exhausted.

  “Just being with you,” she said quietly. “Sleep.”

  “I’m not tired,” Rane protested, but he was betrayed by another yawn as his body began to shut down almost immediately.

  “Yeah, you are. You’ve had a long day,” she said, breaking her own vow and reaching out to stroke the side of his head as he lay there. “Just relax. You’re safe now.”

  Rane looked up at her in wonder and confusion, but sleep was already getting the better of him. The exhausted dragon couldn’t fight her gentle touch. His eyes were drooping and though he fought valiantly, Natasha knew it wouldn’t be long before he dropped off to sleep.

  That was when she would leave. School could wait for now. Rane needed her help and she owed him that much, after everything she’d done to him without his knowing. She could be gone in the morning, but by then, he would be rested and hopefully able to handle this himself.

  I’m sorry, Rane. You deserve better but this is all I can offer.

  She glanced down as his breathing pattern changed, becoming more rhythmic and deeper.

  A little smile graced her face as she looked down at him, but it was quickly wiped away by the reminder of the hideous person she was on the inside, and how something like this would never happen under genuine circumstances. Natasha’s own actions had seen to that. The only question that remained now was how much longer she could ke
ep avoiding the truth.

  Even the part she was denying to herself.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rane

  His eyes flickered open.

  It took several long moments after that for his brain to process everything, to catch up with the events of the night before and lay everything out for him. Rane rolled over, desperately hoping that Natasha would be asleep on the bed next to him, but it was as empty as it had ever been.

  “Damn,” he swore, looking up at the ceiling helplessly.

  He knew she felt something for him. That her attempt to end things with him wasn’t based on her true feelings. Rane could feel that in his very core in a way he simply could not explain.

  “But how do I convince her of that?” he asked himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

  He was still dressed in his clothes from yesterday. Disrobing, he headed for the showers, eager for hot steam to clean away his dirt and perhaps his pain as well. There was still a lingering hurt from what he’d seen the day before.

  Never had Rane thought that Altair would be the one to break. The storm dragon was so very stoic and composed, he never seemed to reveal any sort of weakness or hurt.

  Perhaps that’s the problem. He’s pent it up inside so much, it can only come out when the rest of his consciousness is asleep.

  Rane wasn’t sure how to go about changing that, but he knew that they would have to. All the dragons had suffered trauma, even him, though his was a drop in the bucket compared to some who had fought on the frontlines and witnessed many horrible things. They were hurting, and at some point, they were going to need to find a way to heal.

  That, however, wasn’t Rane’s responsibility. He had neither the experience nor the knowledge to handle that. But someone would have to before a real problem arose from it.

  Hot water poured from the overhead showerhead and scalded his skin, burning away any last vestiges of sleep and also heating his muscles, releasing some of the tension that had been building.

  You need to tell her.

  “I know that,” he told himself, slamming a fist against the tiled wall, careful not to use too much force to break it. “But it’s not that easy.”