by C. J. Ayers
“Oh…that’s, um…” She cringed, her gaze locked with the cell phone. The phone that had been inside a dragon, more or less. A disgusted shiver wracked through her. “Forget it. Forget I asked.” She dialed one of her friend’s numbers—Frankie’s—before pressing the device to her ear.
Matt’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to make the call right here?”
“Yeah. Why not? I don’t have any secrets, unlike some people.” She winked at him and enjoyed his flustered yet exasperated recoil.
“Frankie? Hi, it’s Alisa. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m okay. I just…went on an impromptu trip of sorts. But I’m good, I promise.”
“Wha?” Frankie slurred, breathy. “Why wouldn’t you be okay?” She groaned and then burped. “Sorry, why are you calling, again? You want to hook up tonight or something?”
Alisa’s chest tightened, her throat constricting. She blinked hard a few times in an attempt to block the onslaught of tears she felt stinging the backs of her eyes. As strongly—and as indifferently—as she could, she asked, “You didn’t notice I left the city?”
“Oh, that’s okay. We know how you are. Always leaving to try new stuff and meeting up with us later. It’s cool. No one cares, baby, okay? You don’t have to keep in touch just because your parents’ guilt you into it. We all know how that turned out, right?” Frankie let out a wheeze—or a laugh—or something in between. “It’s cool, it’s cool. You do whatever you want to do, and see us later. Or not. Whatever. Your call. Oh! I gotta go. My new temporary boyfriend is trying to get some, and I haven’t decided if I’m going to let him or not.” Frankie laughed again. “Bye.”
The dial tone was a mocking buzz in her ear. For a second, a masochistic part of Alisa couldn’t bring herself to hang up just yet. Maybe she hadn’t heard right—her friends weren’t so distant and callous…were they? Was she? In the past, she had run away from home, from parties, from her friends and family…no wonder Frankie wasn’t shocked by her absence. None of them were, probably.
She was alone, not thought about. And based on her past actions, she clearly deserved it.
She hung up the phone and handed it back to Matt. The pity gleaming in his normally hard eyes stabbed into her. She looked away, heartrate spiking when his fingers brushed against hers as he took the phone back.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Curiosity flashed through her loneliness, and she found herself snapping her attention back to him before she could even think to do so. “Wait, where are we going?”
“New York City.”
“Why?”
“To meet with people who might be willing to help with our situation.”
“Might be? What if they don’t?”
His eyelids lowered. “Then you are screwed.”
Chapter Four
Much of their flight was spent at a higher altitude. Matt claimed that the higher they were, the less likely people would be able to make out the details of his form. Apparently, most people mistake dragons for airplanes or UFOs.
It was unbelievably cold. And the thin air in Alisa’s lungs was highly unsatisfying. Shivering violently, she hugged the horn on his right shoulder. Her body burned with iciness, her head spun more and more as time went on. She also felt heavier after about an hour or so. Moving her limbs—hell, just moving her neck—sent spikes of pain throughout her system.
Dawn warmed into day, and then day cooled into evening. But by the time Matt flew circles around their destination in New York City, Alisa was partially convinced days had gone by. Her sense of time warred with her fatigue; it was all she could do to keep her eyes open, let alone breathe deeply.
Matt circled a few times before he finally dove.
Her hands clawed into Matt’s horn and shoulder on their own accord, her being too worn to consciously handle the adrenaline rushing through her. Her left palm began to slip, her right hand trembling with the force of her weakening grip. Disturbed by this, Alisa opened her mouth to tell Matt, but she could only gasp out wisps of air.
Matt twirled in tight circle, like a crashing aircraft.
Alisa’s insides jumped all around. Instinct had her trying desperately to hold on, but she was so tired…her muscles were losing their tension, her eyes were rolling back…
The dragon beneath her vanished, Matt shapeshifting back into his human form in a matter of several seconds.
Alisa collapsed on grass that had been a few feet below her—thank God. Still, discomfort flared from the front of her body, pulsating aches. She blinked hard, the luscious green of the grass hurting her eyes.
“You okay?” Matt asked from…somewhere.
Alisa wanted to snap at him—wanted to sneer and shout about how reckless and unconcerned for her well-being he was—but warmth was seeping into her flesh, and she was breathing pleasantly again. She couldn’t stop the smile that came over her lips as she inhaled the sweet, sweet air.
“Good,” Matt said before walking away.
“Ass,” Alisa said, still smiling.
After she got down several gulps of air, she managed to pull herself up to her feet.
She stood before a mansion, its architecture was similar to that of an ancient castle. There were even gargoyles on the roof and on some of the balconies. And the foliage that surrounded the home was all different shades of green—no flowers, no other colors, not even weeds.
Matt walked up the many, many steps to the front porch.
Alisa quickly strode after him, her gaze darting about at the strange and beautiful surroundings. She huffed and puffed like she had asthma, but she was eager to meet the owner of this property—the person who may or may not help Matt protect her. First impressions were everything, after all.
She practically sagged against Matt, choked pants bursting out of her mouth. She held on to his arm for dear life as she tried to catch her breath.
Matt, blessedly, did not comment, though he did lean towards her from her a little.
The massive front door creaked opened.
Alisa jumped, a wide smile quick to appear on her face.
A bony middle-aged woman peered around the door, her eyes opaque. She studied Alisa for a moment before facing Matt. “You shouldn’t have come back.”
“I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t important,” he said, wincing. “Hear me out?”
The woman stared at him for a few seconds, fear flicking in those dulled eyes of hers. Then she released a small breath. “Mother is napping, but when she wakes—if you are still here—”
“I know. I’ll deal with it.”
The woman frowned clearly distressed, but regardless of whatever reservations she had, she backed up and opened the door farther. “Be quick and be quiet.”
Matt entered the mansion like he owned the place.
Alisa did her best to creep inside, apprehension burning beneath her skin. She gave the bony woman another smile and extended her hand out, but the woman shooed it away. Flinching Alisa retracted her hand, and hurried over to Matt, who was walking down a long hallway full of creepy portraits.
Alisa wanted to be insulted by the woman’s behavior—hell, by her wealth alone—but fear and uncertainty made Alisa compliant. It was like she was wearing a tight collar while Matt yanked the leash in random directions.
At the thought, she rubbed her throat and pressed her lips together.
They sat in a large room full of bookshelves, tables, couches, two fireplaces, and rugs covering most of the wooden floor. Alisa, sitting on the edge of one couch, kept looking around in an attempt to figure out if this was supposed to be a library. All the while, Matt told this woman everything that had happened to them.
“You’re a pacifist,” Matt said, tone accusing. “You must agree on my course actions, right?”
The woman sighed. She sat across from them in a fancy-looking pink chair, her legs crossed and her brow knitted. “Matt, this is a complicated issue.”
“It’s really not.”
“It�
��s blasphemous to go against the family—the clan. The laws are in place for a reason.”
“Medieval laws that should have been changed centuries ago? You used to argue for those changes before mom and dad beat the spirit out of you.”
The woman glowered, but it held no real anger.
“Mary,” Matt said, his posture straightening, “you’re one of the few people who actually ever gave a damn about me. This woman next to me needs help, and no clan is going to listen to an outcast’s opinion on this matter. She’s going to die unless we can figure out a way to save her.”
Being the woman in question, Alisa’s face heated. At this point, smiling seemed useless, so she wrapped her arms around herself and shrugged. It didn’t occur to her until a few seconds later how pathetic she must have appeared at that moment, which made her cheeks burn even hotter. Ah, well, maybe if this Mary pitied her, she would help.
After an awkward silence, Mary sighed in defeat. “Look, you can’t get any help under this roof, but George acquired a manor of his own not too far from here.” She gave him a specific address, then some general directions. “If you go to him, maybe he will be of more use to you.”
Though clearly disappointed, Matt nodded. “Better than nothing. Thank you, Mary. You’ve always been a good sister.”
Alisa wasn’t entirely surprised by the revelation, but she still acted as such; it only seemed polite—to make sure Mary knew Matt hadn’t said anything about her to this strange woman he was helping.
But Mary didn’t even look at her. She smiled fondly at Matt, and some luster bloomed in her eyes. “Be safe, Matt.”
It wasn’t until she and Matt were walking away from his family’s mansion that Alisa dared to ask who George was.
“My brother,” Matt said.
“And we’re just going to walk there? What if he treats us like your sister did?”
He tensed and glared straight ahead. Tone terse, he said, “Walking is more inconspicuous. Stop asking questions.”
It was unnerving to see him respond to her like that, after everything they had been through. Annoyed, Alisa huffed. “Ah. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, right. Maybe it’s because you like keeping secrets from me.”
Matt rolled his eyes.
Alisa clenched her teeth and glanced behind them at the gated property that his sister and his mother—and presumably his father—lived in. If his father wanted her dead, why would the rest of his family help them? It all seemed so screwed up.
“Can you tell me anything about your family?” she said, returning her gaze to him. “Or your ‘clan’ that keeps being mentioned? Is that the same thing as a family?”
Matt exhaled through his nose and frowned. The following silence felt like a slap in the face.
Alisa ground her teeth together, her eyes blazing. Men never treated her this way, nor done the things Matt was doing for her. They—well, other than that bastard in Las Vegas who had spiked her drink, but that was an extremely rare occurrence…which her friends didn’t catch—didn’t care about her. They only focused on themselves and no one else.
And she…she was the same way.
Her emotions staggered and melted to the bottom of her gut, nothing but self-loathing weighing on her chest. She swallowed thickly. Here she was, demanding more and more things for herself, and Matt just kept helping her. He never asked her a bunch of personal questions, not even after that pathetic phone call she had with Frankie.
“I’m…sorry,” she said. The words tasted sour, but some of the pressure on her chest alleviated. “I’m nosy when everything is normal, but now I’m scared and tired and I…” She closed her eyes—tried to focus on her point. “So, yeah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking questions like that. It’s not like I’ve told you anything about my life, but in my defense, my life is really, really boring compared to yours. I mean ‘the-book-and-the-movie-were-terrible’ kind of boring, here. I’m a college drop-out, a janitor, and I room with three other women who clearly don’t care as much about me as I do. I’ve had a string of boyfriends who all dumped me after a few months because I’m too needy, and I haven’t spoken to my parents in ages because they’re always so disappointed in me no matter what I say or do.
“So, yeah, boring. And really kind of sad. This is not the kind of person I thought I was going to be, growing up.” She frowned, too tired to feel bad about what she had just confessed. Still, a melancholic sensation wrapped itself around her—tainting her every breath.
The quietness between them was expected. So when Matt spoke, Alisa nearly squeaked with surprise.
“We all go through revelations and changes throughout our lives,” he said softly. “Though not easy, they tend to make us better people once they’re over.”
Heartwarming. Alisa blinked at him. He didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t need to. Those words had been quite enough to soothe away her hurt.
Chapter Five
George was the exact opposite of Mary. Like Matt, he was a very tall guy with broad shoulders and muscular arms, though he moved about like he was lighter than air. The moment he opened the door and saw Matt and her, he beamed.
“Matty, thank God you’re okay.” George took two massive steps to Matt before hugging him tightly. “I’ve missed you, buddy.”
Matt looked so uncomfortable that Alisa couldn’t help but snicker.
“Mary just called me,” George said, patting Matt’s back. “She gave me the updates about you and your lady friend.”
“Lady friend,” Alisa repeated, smiling. She liked the sound of that—classy.
“So,” Matt grunted, squished in his brother’s arms. He pulled away half-heartedly, relief washing over his expression the moment George released him and stepped back, “does that mean you’ll help us?”
George tilted his head to the side. “I can’t go against the clan, if that’s what you are asking. But you and the lady can hide here until you figure something out. Or until mom and dad find us and beat the crap out of us.”
Horror flashed through Alisa, but Matt grinned. No joke, his lips spread wide enough to form a genuine grin. “Thanks, George.”
“Anytime, anytime.” George turned to regard Alisa, and he jolted. “Oh goodness, my manners!” He offered her his hand, and she took it. The second she did, he brought her knuckles to his lips. “My name is George Curran of the Curran Clan. And what is your name, if I may ask it?”
Alisa couldn’t help herself; she blushed and giggled. “Alisa Gartner. Um, no clan.”
“Charming,” George said, kissing her knuckles again. “Sweet and charming. I see why you want her, Matty.”
Matt sighed, though it suspiciously sounded like a groan. “Sure. Can we go inside now, or are you not done mauling her hand?”
George retracted his hand before raising them both in mock-surrender. “Alright, alright. Let me give you both a tour of my humble abode.” He winked at Alisa, chuckled, and then swaggered into his mansion.
Alisa withheld a chuckle of her own. “I like him. He’s got spunk.”
Matt shook his head and entered the mansion, Alisa close behind him, as always.
The rest of the day was calmingly mundane. Well, compared to everything that had happened to her recently, hanging out in a mansion and chatting with people felt mundane. But Alisa reveled in it—breathed easier because of it. It wasn’t normal, but at least it wasn’t chaotic and life-threatening.
After eating lunch with Matt and George, the two brothers went off somewhere else to speak in private. George gave her free reign of the mansion, but Alisa was too nervous to be her normally boisterous self and explore the grand manor. She ended up in the kitchen gossiping with the help.
“So you’re human?” Alisa asked, balking at two maids from where she leaned against the counter.
The maids nodded. One of them—eyes shining with gratitude and affection—said, “We were like you once. We saw too much and so our execution was a must. But George saved us by paying
for us and our silence. We live and work here, safe from the relative dangers of the dragon shifters.”
Alisa furrowed her brow, squeamishness coming over her. “He paid for you? Like…slaves?”
“Officially, yes. But he does not treat as such. We get paid for the job we do, and we get good room and board here. Everything is good.”
The other maid reached out for Alisa and patted her arm. “Maybe Matt will do the same for you.”
The first maid winced, her teeth peeking out between her lips. “I do not know. The shifters do not like Matt. But maybe George can buy her.” She smiled at Alisa.
Alisa did her best not to cringe at the notion. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“The Curran children were always the more merciful ones. It is really quite miraculous when you learn about their childhood. The hardships, the abuse, the intense training…” Both maids frowned, one of them releasing a small breath of pity.
Alisa thought back to the day when she had met Matt—when they were both teenagers running away from home. At the time, she was merely doing it for the adrenaline rush, and she had assumed Matt had, as well. She hadn’t thought anything of it when he never tried to contact her later on, after he had walked her back home.
If life with his family was so terrible, why would he return to it willingly? Horror iced through Alisa at the thought. Or, perhaps it wasn’t willingly.
“I’m going to take a walk,” she told the maids. Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she turned and hurried out of the kitchen while the maids said their hesitant farewells.
She found Matt and George in a game room, George bowling with miniature bowling balls and Matt sitting on the ratty couch nearby. It seemed more like a recreation center in a fraternity house or something, but George was energetic—joyous—as he played his game and Matt seemed content for once. Based on the ways his eyelids lowered every so often, he was probably on the verge of taking a nap.
Alisa stopped in the doorway. Indecisive, she stepped back and chewed on the cuticle of her pointer finger. Why was Matt doing this? He was clearly stepping out of his comfort zone by asking for help from the family who had banished him, not to mention risking his life for her. And why?
