Great, now Michael had his own personal executioner. Woo-hoo. Things were not going as well as she planned. Well, she hadn’t really planned anything, but still.
“Thank you, Darien.” She cuddled the little dragon to her again. “I hope to never have to call on your services for that.”
“Why don’t we get you both inside?” Darien held his hand down to help her up. “It sounds like you’ve had a trying time. Maybe some food would help.”
That was the best idea she had heard since waking up. “Sounds great.”
6
Mmm…. Something smells wonderful. Sucking in a deep breath, Michael savored the smell of cooking meat. An undertone of something musky hit his nose, making him sneeze several times. The meat he liked; the second smell raised his hackles. Opening his eyes, Michael looked around for the source of that second smell. God, the world still looked weird. Maybe he had hit his head.
It took a little bit of time, but his brain finally figured out how to process the imagines his eyes were sending. The inside of a cabin. Built for giants. Or maybe a grand dragon. Yes, he could see some eccentric, old dragon building himself a cabin where he could play human in dragon form. A wizened, old thing, with long, flowing robes, reading dusty tomes through thick spectacles. Yup, that was it. He had a puzzle with that image on it somewhere. And this room fit the bill.
From his vantage point—someone had put him on the floor—the room looked right out of some Renaissance movie. A great hearth filled the center of one wall, and bookcases lined the rest. A large, wooden table with four chairs towered over him to the left, and a mountain of a bed was just to his right. That smell seemed to come from everything. He stuck his nose into the blanket wrapped around him and sneezed. Yes, that reek was definitely from whoever lived here. He had to get out of here.
Wiggling from the blanket, Michael managed to get up on his hands and knees again. Standing all the way up seemed beyond him for the moment. His body still felt odd. Maybe he just needed to get out and stretch.
Michael pulled himself out onto the wooden floor. Someone had used massive trees to make these boards. Cool air spilled across his skin. Was he naked? Closing his eyes, he tried to recall where he was. Yes, he remembered the frantic tearing off of clothing. If someone had brought him inside, maybe they had brought his clothes in, too. It would have made the most sense to leave them by his bed.
Turning back, his eyes scanned the pile of blankets he had used. No clothes, but there was something white sticking out of the blankets. It looked fluffy, but not like hair. He had seen something like that before, but he couldn’t remember what. Curiosity crawled through him. He just had to find out what that was. Carefully, he crawled towards it. An itch hit him on the back of the neck, and he shivered.
Michael froze as the white thing twitched. Was it alive? He was almost to it. One good lunge and he would have it. Bunching up his muscles, he sprang forwards with all his might, grabbing at the thing with his mouth. Mouth? Why was he using his mouth? The thought skittered out of his mind. All he had to do was chomp down, and he would have it. God, he wanted that thing!
Just as Michael’s jaws tightened on the fluffy thing, a pain shot up his tailbone. Michael stifled the yelp that would have released his prize and rolled away from the blanket and whatever was causing him pain.
A long, snakelike thing was attached to the fluffy, white thing. Recognition hit him. That was a dragon tail. He had a dragon by the tail! He spit the tuft out and spun to face the dragon he had just bitten, but the tail skittered away from him. Where was the dragon? He spun farther, looking for it. How could the thing hide? It had to be as big as he was.
Michael froze. Something wasn’t right. The tail was white. There were no white dragons. His brain wasn’t working right, but he knew his dragons. He looked over at the white, tufty thing. Carefully shifting his eyes, he followed the tuft to the tail and up to his backside. Wait, he didn’t have a tail. Turning his head farther, he followed the white scales up his side to the neatly folded wings on his back. No, no, no, this was not happening!
Michael whipped his head back to the room around him. Was he dreaming? When he was a kid, he used to dream he was a dragon. A grand, green dragon. But it had been years since he’d had those dreams. God, he had to find a mirror or something reflective. He couldn’t be a dragon; he was human.
Scampering across the room on legs that were much too dragon-like, Michael frantically searched for something reflective. A flash of gold caught his eye—a polished plate. Oh, yes, that would work nicely. Closing his eyes, he crept up on it. This was just a dream. He was not really a dragon. Cracking an eye, he looked at the reflection. Yup, dragon. Closing his eyes again, he shook his head. I am not a dragon. He tried to speak the words into being true, but nothing came out. Hoping it worked anyway, Michael opened his eyes again. Still a dragon.
A male voice from the doorway caught Michael’s attention. That musky smell was getting stronger. What if this man had done something to make him a dragon? Was he friend or foe? Suspicion shot through him, and he bolted for the darkness under the bed. Must hide. Can’t be caught. Maybe he could get out of the cabin while the man wasn’t looking. Then he would find his way to Daniel. Daniel would know what to do.
“It will take the birds several hours to reach your brother,” the man’s voice said.
Michael suppressed the hiss rising in his throat. He did not like this musky man.
“Why don’t you sit down and have something to eat? The stew should be about done.” The man crossed to the hearth, where a pot hung over the fire.
Now would be a great time to bolt for the door. It was open, but he couldn’t tell who the man was talking to.
“Sure,” a woman’s voice answered.
Michael froze. He knew that voice. She was important. One of the chairs at the table scraped out. A scent hit him as she sat down. Mine! He crept out so he could see her. Carissa. Memories slammed into him. She was hurt. She was missing a scale. He had to protect her. She was sitting in a room with a man that may have turned him into a dragon! All sense ran out of him as instinct kicked in.
Michael launched himself out from under the bed and scrambled up the side of the chair and onto the table. Dragon claws rocked for climbing. He placed himself between Carissa and the man, fanned out his wings, and hissed at the danger in the room. He would protect her with his life!
***
“Why don’t you sit down and have something to eat?” Darien said as he stepped through the door. “The stew should be about done.” He crossed over to check on the bubbling pot.
That was the best idea of the evening. Now that messages had been sent to all the possible places her brother could be, Carissa could relax. And why hadn’t Darien joined the twenty-first century? Was a phone too much to ask? How about a normal stove, at least?
“Sure,” Carissa answered. Tucking up her borrowed robes, she pulled out a chair and sat down. Maybe she should check on Michael before she ate. The poor man was not having a very good day. The sound of claws on wood grabbed her attention just before a flash of white blocked her vision.
Carissa and Darien both froze. Five pounds of angry dragon quivered on the table between them, hissing at Darien. At least Michael was awake and moving.
Slowly, Darien stood up from the pot and looked at the dragon, checking out his posturing.
The tips on Michael’s wings rustled in warning.
Darien smiled at Carissa. “Definitely brooding.” He lowered his face until he was eye-level with Michael. “Listen, little one, I’m older and bigger than you, so calm down.”
Carissa rolled her eyes as Michael hissed again. “Stop antagonizing him.” She slipped her hands up under Michael’s wings to hold him back. His muscles were all bunched up, ready to attack. “It’s all right, Michael,” she said, trying to soothe him.
The little dragon’s tail thrashed back and forth as he stared Darien down.
If she didn’t do something fast,
he was going to launch himself at Darien. Oh, that would make a fine mess of this already-fine mess. The end of his tail thwapped into her arm, and she grabbed it up. She stuck the fringy end in her mouth and chomped down.
Michael jerked in a silent yelp and twisted to glare at her.
Oh, that got his attention. “Michael!” Carissa snapped. “Down, now!”
The little dragon froze.
She hated ordering him around like that, but he was out of control. His crystal-blue eyes were more feral than anything. Had she made a mistake not killing him while he was asleep? Please let him be all right. “Please calm down. Everything’s fine. You’re safe.” She watched the wheels turn in Michael’s head. Please, oh please let him be in there.
A snarl curled Michael’s lip as he turned back to look at Darien.
“That’s Darien. He’s here to help.”
Michael tuned back to look at her again. His mind still processed her words, but he tucked his wings down.
Well, that was at least a start.
“It looks like he may retain at least part of his mind,” Darien commented. “But, will it be enough?”
Carissa looked at the little dragon. He was studying her with confused eyes. “He’s in there.” God, she hoped he was in there. “Just give him a little time. He just woke up.” She reached out and rubbed his cheek.
Michael closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.
She didn’t want to think about what she would have to do if he weren’t home anymore.
Darien nodded at her. “As you wish, My Lady.”
Great, there was that executioner again.
“How about if I get you both some food?” Not waiting for an answer, Darien turned back to ladle the stew into bowls.
Carissa wrapped her hands around Michael and drew him closer. “Darien’s bringing food.” She spoke softly to him, praying he understood her. “Just stay calm. We’ll get through this together.”
The little dragon cocked his head, processing her words. Slowly, he nodded his head.
Yes! He understood her. Carissa wanted to snatch him up and dance around the room, but she settled for rubbing her thumbs along his sides. Questions floated in his eyes. They were much clearer then they had been. “I know you have questions,” that had to be the understatement of the century, “but, let’s get food first. Then we’ll see about getting you back to human form to ask them.”
Michael nodded more quickly this time.
Thank you, God. Things might actually work out.
“I would suggest you both sleep before he tries to shift.” Darien set two bowls and a plate of stew on the table. “You’re both exhausted. He would have a much better chance of reaching human form if he were fully rested.”
Michael rumbled a little at the man’s voice.
Carissa caressed him reassuringly. “True,” she agreed. Darien did have a valid point. She looked down at the little dragon between her hands. “Food first, then a nap. And I promise that we’ll get you back to human when we wake back up.”
Michael considered her for a moment before nodding his agreement.
Great! She could really use a nap. Maybe after a nice nap, he might be able to forgive her for ruining his life.
7
Friend. The musky-smelling man was a friend. Michael shook his head; his brain wasn’t working right. Darien. Mine! had called him Darien. No, that wasn’t right, either. Her name was Carissa. She was important, but how? God, if she would just stop rubbing him, he might be able to think. Oh, but it felt so good.
Food. She mentioned food. The smell of cooked meat hit him like a Mack truck. Now he remembered—it had been the smell of food that had woken him up. Turning around in Carissa’s hands, he saw the musky smelling man… A growl rose in Michael’s throat, but he caught it. No. Darien. Friend.
Darien pushed a plate of chunks towards him.
“It’s okay, Michael. Eat.” Mine! patted him… Wait, that wasn’t right. Carissa. Carissa patted him on his sides.
God, he wanted to eat that. It looked so good. Michael turned his eyes back for reassurance. He wanted to eat, but he didn’t trust the musky man… no, Darien. Mine!… no, Carissa nodded encouragingly. He inched towards the plate cautiously. Brown, orange, and white in brown stuff. The savory smell made his mouth water.
Snatching up a hunk of meat, he backpedaled to the edge of the table in front of Mine!. He had to protect her from that man. No, wait. Carissa didn’t need protecting. Darien was a friend. She trusted him. Michael could smell that she trusted him. Oh, this whole thing was confusing. Michael tried to chew the oversized hunk of meat. It didn’t work. He dropped it to the table to rip off a smaller bit.
“Here, let me help you.” Mine!… no, Carissa. Carissa drew the plate closer to him and used a fork to cut the chunks up into tiny bites.
That was better. Michael licked up the gravy from the table and stalked up to the plate again.
Darien watched him closely from the other side of the table.
Darien! Yay, he didn’t have to remind himself of the man’s name. But, Michael still didn’t like him. Something about that musky smell rubbed him the wrong way. Carefully, Michael pulled up an orange hunk. Carrot. He liked carrots. Next, a white chunk. Potatoes. Oh, potatoes were good. Especially in stew. Yes, this was beef stew. But something was missing. Michael licked at the thick liquid. No, gravy. He licked at the gravy. Michael looked around, working his mind. A pepper mill! Yes! This needed pepper!
Ignoring both sets of eyes watching him, Michael weaved his way across the table to the pepper mill. It was huge! How was he ever going to get that thing back to his plate, or even use it? Wait, he wasn’t alone. He could ask Mine!… no, Carissa. He could ask Carissa to put pepper on his food. Looking up at her, Michael found her watching him. He opened his mouth to ask, but nothing came out. Crap! Looked like he’d have to get it himself.
Rubbing his shoulder up against it, Michael knocked the mill towards the center of the table. Thankfully, it missed most of the stuff there.
“It looks like your friend wants pepper.” Darien smiled at Carissa. “Would you like help?”
Michael froze in his efforts to shove the mill across the table with his head. Did he want help? Yes, but did he want Darien’s help? The man still raised his hackles. Mine!… no, Carissa trusted him. He drew in a deep, calming breath and sneezed from the pepper. Breathing at the wrong end of a pepper mill was bad. He cleared his nose and looked up at Darien. The man had an eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer. Michael nodded his head and gave the pepper mill one last push with his front paw.
“Of course.” Darien chuckled as he picked up the mill and turned it a few times over Michael’s plate.
Oh, that looked so good. Michael started back to his plate. The smell of something else stopped him halfway across the table. To his left. A basket. There was a bundle of cloth holding something. Warm yeast rolls. That would just make the stew better. Michael stuck his head in and pulled out a roll larger than his head. Dropping it on the table, he backed across the table, dragging the thing. God, it tasted good.
Gold flashed in the corner of his eye. Carissa. She was just sitting there, watching him with the roll. Maybe she wanted one, too.
Manhandling the roll across the table, Michael staggered under the weight as he carried it to her. He dropped it next to her bowl before going back to get another for himself. His mother had taught him to always serve others first. He pushed the second roll to his plate. There, that was better. Circling around the dish, he settled so he was facing the middle of the table. It would be rude to eat with his back to everyone.
Beef stew with pepper and a warm yeast roll. The only thing that would make this better would be a pint of beer. Oh well. Michael tipped his head and said grace over his plate. He wasn’t religious, but his mother would have skinned him for not being thankful for his food. That done, he dug into the first meal he’d had in days. God, that was good.
***
; He brought me a roll! Carissa looked down at the teeth marks in the bread next to her bowl and nearly cried. That simple act could have meant many things. Was it instinct, providing for a possible mate? Her mind flickered to the memories of them out on the lawn, and heat pooled low in her gut. She could see how a brooding dragon might consider her a mate. Was it good manners? She looked over at the little dragon eating his plate of stew with pepper. He had remembered things like seasoning and rolls. That showed some signs of humanity. Reaching out, Carissa ran her hand over Michael’s back.
The little dragon turned to look at her with questioning eyes.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Michael cocked his head to the side, showing confusion.
“For the roll.”
He nodded his head and turned back to his meal. When he ripped a hunk of bread off and dropped it into the gravy, her heart leaped. She hadn’t lost him. He was in there. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Now all she had to do was teach him what he needed to know.
“Looks like my service won’t be necessary. I’m glad.” Darien smiled from the other side of the table.
There, the beheading sword was truly put away now. Those few, simple acts proved that Michael could be redeemed. Carissa hadn’t condemned the poor man to die with her momentary lack of reasoning. He had even let Darien help him with the pepper. Darien—a mature, male dragon. A possible rival for a mate. Even Carissa could smell the increase in pheromones Darien was producing in response to a brooding dragon in his space. And Michael had agreed to his help. Oh, happy days! Elated, Carissa turned back to her stew and ate.
It took her and Michael no time at all to plow through two servings each. How he had stuffed all that food in that tiny body was unfathomable, but his little tummy bulged happily when he had finished licking the gravy from the bowl. Stuffed to the brim, full and content, Michael rolled onto his back next to his plate and let out a burp that made Carissa smile. He was just so cute.
On the Accidental Wings of Dragons (Dragons of Eternity Book 1) Page 5
