Dragon Rebellion

by Amelia Jade

  After all, she’d only said it wouldn’t happen soon. The word “never” hadn’t been used.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rhys

  She didn’t say “never.”

  It wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to him. Still, seeing her naked wasn’t the end-goal.

  Do you even have an end goal?

  The truth was, he didn’t. Not with her, or with his slow reintegration into society. Things had just changed too much for him. Was having a woman in his life the smart thing to do so soon after waking up? Normally he would have said no, except perhaps for a quick romp in bed. Six hundred years of celibacy was a lot to deal with, and he was half-human.

  But that was all before he’d met Aimee Florette. She was so strong and intelligent, a tantalizing combination. There was more though, which is what was making him doubt his original plan upon waking, to simply go out and explore. Aimee was also feisty, bold, and beautiful in ways he couldn’t come up with words to describe. The exotic look of her modern styling after centuries of evolution was more than enough to drag him in.

  The combination was more intoxicating than the sight of a thousand piles of gold. In his dreams the night before, he had traded his entire treasure simply to be with her. Most of the time those were categorized as nightmares and he awoke in a cold sweat. But with Aimee he had slept wonderfully, awakened feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. All of that combined had prompted one question to himself.

  Was he falling for her?

  Two days ago, when he’d first come upon her sneaking through his lair, he’d have dismissed the idea with but a flick of his wing and wiped the woman from the earth without so much as a second thought. He was Rhyolite, Earthen Dragon and master of his own destiny, creator of his own path. If he chose the woman, she would stay with him. The concept of falling in love with a human woman, of finding his kindred soul in one of their small, frail bodies would have been the fuel for a thousand jokes told by the rest of his kind.

  But that had been two days and six hundred years ago it seemed. Everything was different. The world he once knew was gone. Dragons were extinct, and as far as he was aware, he could be the last of his kind. It seemed unlikely, given their longevity and power, but Aimee had shown him the balancing of the scales that had occurred with human ingenuity. No longer was it a one-sided fight between his kind and mortals. Now they had weapons that could strike back and kill him. Times had changed.

  None of the rules applied anymore. So then why couldn’t he fall for a human? Perhaps at some point while he had been asleep humans and dragons had merged. She certainly had the strength and fire of a dragon within her, of that he had no doubt. Was it possible that she contained the essence of a dragon within her?

  The idea bore more thought. He wasn’t ready to make that decision just yet, and needed additional time and information before he could come to a conclusion. But nothing about it seemed inherently crazy to him, which was perhaps the biggest indicator he was on the right path. Which meant if she was his mate, he needed to do everything in his power to ensure she fell for him.

  I have already changed, and continue to change for her. Is that not enough?

  He didn’t have an answer. A small part of him had wondered the night before if their budding interest in each other might burst into flame from the embers he was sowing, but in the end his efforts had fizzled out. The two of them had been exhausted, and after a feast of a meal she called “Chinese food” that had been brought to them by someone—he loved that idea!—neither of them had had the energy to do anything more.

  So now he lay on her couch, trying to stretch out the kinks from sleeping on something not designed to accommodate his extra-long frame, and wondering what today would bring. Muscles popped and joints cracked as he pushed feet down and arms above his head.

  It’s a good thing I haven’t had to fight that bronze dragon yet. I am not yet feeling fully recovered. Soon though, I am getting close, and then I may resume the hunt.

  Rhyolite needed to ensure that the area was safe for Aimee. If she were to become his mate, other dragons would be able to know it if they scented her. If the bronze dragon was still around, he would use any tactic he could to bring Rhyolite down, and that included using a human as hostage.

  Behind the couch the door to her bedroom opened at last. He glanced over at the clock on one of the technological contraptions the couch—what an odd word—was oriented toward and rolled his eyes. It was already past eight in the morning. Time was wasting!

  Sitting up, he rested his chin on the back of the couch and flashed her a lazy smile. She waved a hand at him, the other rubbing one eye blearily. His eyes were drawn to her outfit. The shorts she had on were a new pair from the day before that hugged her body, coming down just below the curve of her ass. He’d thought that if she moved just right he would be able to see cheek.

  The top was a simple…well, he didn’t know what they called them. A tubular piece of material that went from just above her belly button to just above her breasts, and was held in place by two straps that went up and over her shoulders. It was white, and he could swear it was just a little see-through.

  His eyes narrowed as she yawned again and went into the bathroom. Was there an extra sway to her hips that hadn’t been there before? No. Unlikely, his eyes were playing tricks on him, they had to be. Why would she wait until the morning to give him an opening and an eyeful? Wasn’t the evening the proper time for such behavior? Human women were so confusing. Just when he thought he’d had them figured out, they go and change on him!

  “Morning,” Aimee mumbled as she exited the bathroom a few minutes later, her face still a little wet from where she’d splashed water over it.

  Rhys inclined his head in greeting, her dour tone and hooded, half-closed eyes giving off all sorts of warning signs that told him he should keep his mouth shut for the time being. Instead he admired the way her firm rear bounced as she walked into the kitchen and started to fiddle with a machine.

  Moments later a rich, aromatic smell wafted through the room. His nose twitched. The smell was tantalizing beyond belief. Something hissed and liquid poured and all of a sudden she turned around a minute later with a cup clasped between both hands. Lifting it to her face, she inhaled its steam, and then drank deep after blowing on it to cool it down.

  A smile graced her face. “Ahhh,” she sighed, smacking her lips together and brightening up almost immediately.

  Rhys stared in shock at the transformation.

  “I’ve come to a decision,” he announced.

  She stopped and looked at him, her eyes narrowing as she tried to figure out what decision he was talking about. “And that is?”

  “You must be a witch.”

  “What?”

  “You are possessed of two souls,” he informed her. “The first is the one I saw exit the bedroom and greet me. The other is the one you have ingested with that magical potion you’ve brewed.”

  Aimee frowned, cocked her head sideways at him, looking puzzled. Then she held up a finger, took another, longer sip. Then another. And then another.

  “Ah,” she said at last as understanding entered her eyes. “You mean my coffee. Well, let me tell you, in the mornings I am not a happy person without my coffee. The caffeine gets me going and wakes me up, since I don’t do early mornings naturally.”

  Coffee. That was the name of it. Rhys immediately came to another decision. He had to try it.

  “May I?” he asked, lifting himself from the couch and gliding into the kitchen, the smell of full-flavored deliciousness too much to handle.

  “Absolutely not.” Aimee clutched the mug to her chest and turned her shoulder to him. “Lesson number one. Do not try to stop Aimee from drinking all of her coffee. Ever.”

  He snatched his outstretched hand back as if it had been stung. “Lesson learned.”

  “Good. But never suggest that I am not a gracious queen of my household. You may pour yourself a mug if you
wish.” She waved lordly at the machine that she’d used, and he saw a pot underneath it filled with dark liquid.

  Another wave indicated where he could find one of these mugs. Upon careful consideration he chose the one with two cows blowing up what appeared to be a third, female cow. The caption read “Looking good, Vern,” whatever that meant. He carefully poured himself a half-portion.

  “Take a sip. If you want to add some milk, cream, or sugar to it, go for it.”

  He sipped, and his eyes bugged out at the full flavor of the coffee. “No, you know what, I think I like it like this,” he said while smacking his tongue against his lips to absorb every last drop.

  “If I didn’t know you weren’t human before, I do now.” She winked at him to note she was teasing.

  “Thank you,” he murmured softly between sips.

  “For the drink? You’re welcome. It’s nothing special, really. There are some shops that go to a lot of effort for a good coffee, and make this taste like…well, not as good.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” He raised the mug and downed some more of it. “But I wasn’t referring to the coffee. Or should I say, not just the coffee. No, Aimee, I meant thank you for everything you’ve done for me since I woke up. For a human to treat someone like me with such compassion and tenderness would be unheard of in my time.”

  She arched both eyebrows over the top of her mug. “You realize I’ve done nothing but slap you around and drag you by the ear to force you to accept the changes, right?”

  He nodded. “It’s exactly what I needed. Anything else and I might not have respected you.”

  The gray of her eyes sparkled with laughter as she spoke next. “You know, they make this thing called a Taser. It dispenses an electric shock. Like getting hit with lightning, but on a much smaller scale, though some of them are pretty serious. I can get one of those. I could use it on you if you want.” She blinked her eyes repeatedly. “Pretty please?”

  He coughed into his coffee. “No, actually. I’ll pass. Being struck by lightning is not fun.”

  She giggled and nudged him with an elbow. “Oh come on…” her voice trailed off as she watched his expression. “Wait, are you serious?”

  Rhys nodded, setting the mug down and pulling his shirt over his head as he exposed his back to her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tightening.

  “Right here,” he said, tapping with one finger just below his left shoulder blade.

  “The black mark?” she asked, her fingers pressing into his skin as she felt the old wound.

  “Yes,” he said softly, focusing on the tips of her hands as she traced the outline. It felt so good to be touched by another, especially a stunningly beautiful woman like Aimee. It had been forever and an age ago that he’d last been treated so tenderly, and even that paled in comparison to the urges he felt awakening in himself as she brushed his skin lightly.

  A pleasant tingle worked its way down his spine and he felt for sure that the goosebumps would scare her off, ending the intimate moment. Closing his eyes, he worked to remain calm, intent on doing whatever he could to ensure that she took her time, so that he could etch the feeling into his brain.

  “That looks horrible,” she whispered, pushing her fingers into it. “Does it still hurt?”

  “No,” he replied, not turning around. “It’s old.”

  “You were just flying through a storm?”

  He could feel her touching around the black mark now, but always returning to its different texture. The rougher patch felt almost like smoothed stone instead of skin, or so he’d been told. Rhys wasn’t flexible enough to be able to truly touch it and find out. Which really sucked when it itched.

  “I’m not that unlucky,” he told her.

  Aimee twittered lightly in amusement, her hand never leaving his back. “How, then?”

  “A fight. With an Elemental Dragon.”

  The light brushes stopped.

  “Another dragon did this to you?”

  They resumed as he nodded slowly, keeping his voice low, trying not to shiver visibly.

  “How?”

  “I am an Earthen Dragon,” he told her. “I control the earth and stone is my weapon. Elemental Dragons control other, uh, elements.”

  They shared a giggle. Her fingers slipped down his back and he stood up, the shirt falling into place, though they both stayed close together, at ease in each other’s personal areas.

  “So this one could control lightning?”

  “Precisely. He had territory to the north, and occasionally while patrolling our borders we would run into each other. One particular time, I suppose he decided to try and test my resolve, and flew inside the area I had claimed as my own.”

  Aimee gasped. “What happened?”

  “We fought. I got hit, I hit him back. He conceded in the end and we went our separate ways. That was the last time he challenged my territory.”

  “Dragons are fairly territorial then?”

  “Yes. Once we claim something, we’re rather reluctant to give it up,” he said solemnly, meeting her eyes without flinching, looking deep into the abyssal depths of her soul, and finding himself once again pleasantly pleased at what had been contained in her tiny little human body.

  “So does that mean you’re going to be buying some property here in Drake’s Crossing?” she asked, looking away once the tension became too much.

  “Why would I do that? I have my mountain.” He neglected to mention the fact that no one would ever know that, since the bronze dragon had likely claimed the area after he’d gone to sleep.

  She grinned. “Hate to break it to you sleeping beauty, but the mountain isn’t yours. It belongs to the government, and I doubt they have any interest in giving it over to you.”

  He frowned. “Perhaps there is a percentage or two of accuracy in that statement.”

  “So generous,” she said dryly. “So, when are you going to buy a house then?”

  “I don’t know. After I’ve taken the time to get acclimated some more.”

  Aimee made a funny face.

  “That was the wrong answer, wasn’t it?”

  “You can learn,” she teased. “Look, it’s not that I really mind having you around for a day, or a few days. But after more than that people are going to start asking questions.”

  His lips compressed into a flat line as he understood where she was going.

  “About the strange man in your house.”

  “Exactly,” she said, sighing apologetically. “When a guy stays at a girl’s house these days, it usually means they’re, you know, dating.”

  “You mean courting?”

  “Yeah. Together. Dating. Courting, whatever you want to call it. Romantically involved.”

  Abruptly her worry made sense, and he read through her lines. She didn’t mind him staying there with her, that much had already been said. What Aimee didn’t like was the unknown. Of course! People will think we are dating, and yet I haven’t asked.

  “Very well,” he said, spinning to face her completely, adopting a formal stance. “Aimee Florette, it would be my pleasure if you would allow me to court you.”

  She blinked at him, her face neutral. Slowly, with an agonizingly glacial pace, her expression became pained.

  “I’m not doing this right, am I?” he asked, wanting to wilt on the spot from embarrassment. Desperately he hoped that was the issue, and not that he’d asked a question he shouldn’t have, overstepping the limits she applied to them.

  Aimee took a breath, holding it for a second. “No,” she said after what felt like an eternity, but was really less than a second or two.

  “Very well. Ah, how does a male attempt to start, um, dating, a female, in this day?”

  “Often they will hang out several times first, to see if there is a romantic spark between them. A common staple of this is going to dinner, where the lady may observe a man’s ability to be polite to his fellow people. We already know you’
re going to fail that miserably, but it’s still a good start,” she finished, flashing him a smile.

  Closing his eyes to her smirk, he nodded slowly, eventually opening them to see her barely able to contain her mirth.

  Shaking his head, he rephrased his earlier question. “Excellent. Will you then, Aimee, accompany me to dinner this evening as my…”

  “Date,” she supplied.

  “To dinner as my date,” he finished, utterly thankful he hadn’t used the word “companion.” It wasn’t wrong, but it spoke of friends, and little more.

  “I would be delighted. Where are we going?”

  “Okay that’s just not fair,” he complained. “I would take you to the fanciest place I knew of. Except I don’t know of any!”

  “Oh, we’re going to Liftbridge?” she asked, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. “That sounds fantastic. I’ve always wanted to go there. I’ve heard it’s exquisite.”

  “Sounds expensive,” he muttered under his breath, then to Aimee directly. “I’m glad you’re excited by the choice. At what time will you be free of other commitments, so I may escort you there?”

  She grinned, getting in to the little byplay some more as she mouthed the word “smooth” at him.

  Hey, I don’t know how things work, but I long ago learned how to deflect questions I wasn’t sure how to ask!

  “Shall we say eight o’clock?”

  “Perfect. I look forward to it.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Lovely.”

  He glared at her. “Astounding.”

  “Exquisite.” Aimee stuck her tongue out at him.

  It was so on now.

  “Electrifying.” He crossed his arms triumphantly.

  Her response took less than a second. “Marvelous.”

  “Splendid,” he ground out, determined not to lose.

  “Thrilling.” Again, there was no pause. How was she doing this?!

  “Divine.”

  “Phenomenal.”

  “Wondrous.” He grinned as she didn’t reply at first, her eyes focusing elsewhere.