My Dragon Master

by Alisa Woods

  All because I don’t want to miss the moment she’ll finally come to me and open her eyes.

  I don’t even know their color.

  Her fits of mumbled torment are the closest I’ve come to hearing her voice. I know almost nothing about this woman whose soul is my other half.

  I think, perhaps, the fates are having their last good laugh at my expense. The final, cruel twist of the knife. At the same time, this feverish state is far better than the coma she’s been in, as still as death. Patience, Akkan. You’d think I would have mastered that art by now. But I’ve been waiting two hundred and nine years for this woman, ever since I was a sixteen-year-old dragon going to meet a witch for his pairing. It didn’t happen then, and every beat of my heart fears it will not happen now. Not even for a moment. At this point, I’d settle for just one. Just a chance to look her in the eyes and see if our connection really is any different than all those I’ve had with other women—all the ones I’ve known and bedded and even, on occasion, loved.

  My soul mate. Did I really miss so much, all these years?

  Daisy stirs again and then settles.

  There’s a soft knock at the hospital room door.

  I rise quickly from my chair.

  A beautiful black woman peeks in. “Okay if we come in?” she asks quietly. It’s Jayda Williams, Daisy’s friend from the time of their capture. I know her from the soul mates’ files that Niko, Lord of the Lair, keeps—I’ve never met her in person, but I’m the one who asked her to come.

  “Of course,” I say in a natural speaking voice. If merely talking could wake Daisy, I would have been orating at full volume for as long as it took. I step around the bed, my hand extended as she swings the door more fully open. “I’m Akkan, Daisy’s soul mate.”

  “Right.” Her grip is firm. I clasp her hand with both of mine.

  Behind her, hovering at the door’s threshold, is Grace Tanaka, another soul mate captured and tortured by the Vardigah.

  “I didn’t properly introduce myself the first time we met, Grace,” I say.

  She smiles, and it’s much more radiant than the tortured one she had when she visited two weeks ago. “I was kind of a wreck.”

  “Not at all.” I offer my hand to her as well—she’s a little more tentative about the shake. She’s mated now. Jayda as well. They both teleported here from their various love-nest retreats with their dragon mates, at my request. I feel the jealousy rumble deep within, but it’s for my mate. These two weathered their trauma and, with the help of their mates, came back and are transformed. What have I done for mine but sit by her side and brush her hair?

  I feel the pain of it deeper than even the jealousy can reach.

  I step back to give them room. “Please come in.”

  As Jayda quietly closes the door, I drift back to Daisy’s bedside. I’ve been here so long—three weeks, leaving only for meals and rest—that it almost feels unnatural not to be by her side. Her hands rest softly at her sides, but I’m so familiar with her rhythms, I can tell she’s still in that restless not-sleeping, not-awake state. As if confirming, she pulls in a breath suddenly… and then slowly releases it.

  Jayda frowns and moves closer to the head of the bed. “Oh, Daisy, where have you gone, girl?”

  “Niko said she’s been talking?” Grace grips the side rail of the bed, the one that keeps Daisy from slipping out should she move in her sleep. She rarely does.

  “Just a whispered word, now and then,” I say. “‘The shadow and the light. They’re coming.’ Niko is convinced it means something, but I’m not so sure.”

  “Is she dreaming?” Jayda smooths back Daisy’s hair, and Daisy seems to move in response to the touch. Jayda flicks a questioning look to me.

  I shrug. “Nothing I’ve said or done has gotten a response from her. But she doesn’t know me. I thought maybe you two—your voices, your presence—especially when she’s in this fitful state, I was hoping that might make a difference. That the familiarity might reach her.”

  Jayda leans in, gently stroking Daisy’s cheek. “Daisy, honey, it’s Jayda. Gracie’s here too. We’re here for you, girl. And I know you’re strong. Time for you to come back to us.”

  A long breathless moment stretches, but Daisy’s even quieter than before.

  “Do you know her last name?” I ask. “Or where she lives? I haven’t been able to track down anything about her.”

  Grace looks distressed. “I can’t believe we never asked what her last name was!”

  Jayda pats her hand, which is still gripping the railing. “We had more pressing problems at the time.” To me, she says, “I thought you dragons had your feelers out all over the world. Can’t you track down one missing woman? Especially when she’s not missing anymore?”

  I sigh, frustrated by it as well. “She seems entirely off the radar. No image search or facial recognition searches bring up anything. Do you have any idea what she did for a living? Did she mention any relatives?”

  Jayda and Grace exchange frowns.

  Grace turns back to me. “She read Tarot all the time. Maybe she did readings?”

  I give her a small smile. “That’s something.” There have to be ten thousand Tarot readers in New York. And there’s no guarantee Daisy’s from here. “You two lived in the city before you were taken, right? Do we know if Daisy was from here as well?”

  Grace cringes. “God, we’re the worst friends!”

  Jayda chastises her with a look, then says to me, “I don’t remember exactly her saying she was from the city, but I’m pretty sure she was.” She frowns, thinking. “She didn’t have an accent that I could discern.”

  “Like what?” Grace asks. “A New Yawker accent? No one has those anymore. I grew up here, and I don’t.”

  Jayda lifts one eyebrow. “You have a Rich Girl accent, child.”

  “Child?” Grace pretends to be offended. “Is that Georgian for Grace, you’re a terrible friend? Because I’m feeling that right now.”

  Jayda sighs and pulls Grace in for a one-armed hug. “You know what Daisy would say to that?”

  “That I’m being melodramatic and should shut up?” Grace squishes up her nose.

  “No, that’s me.” Jayda gives her a half-smile.

  I smile too, but that pain deep in my chest wells up. What I’d give for Daisy to bounce back from her trauma like these two.

  “Daisy would say we’re doing the best we can,” Jayda continues. “That the Universe has a plan for us or some shit. And then she’d be nicer than any normal human has a right to be. She’d be more worried about us than anything.” Grace looks like she’s tearing up. Jayda’s one-armed hug tightens. “Don’t you worry. She’s going to get through this. You see how she’s fighting? This girl has a dragon spirit if I’ve ever seen one.”

  I’m not sure which of us she’s trying to convince. Grace just sniffs and nods.

  “Hold up,” Jayda says suddenly. She releases Grace and points a finger at me. “Daisy said something about needing to find a new place. The cat was possessed and had started throwing up in her shoes and how one shouldn’t ignore signs from the Universe like that.”

  “She has a cat?” This surges alarm through me. Daisy was held captive for at least two weeks. It’s been three weeks since we rescued her. I don’t want her to wake only to find her beloved pet has starved to death…

  “No, it wasn’t hers,” Grace says, brow furrowed. “It was her roommate’s.”

  “I think she was couch surfing,” Jayda explains. “I got the impression Daisy kind of floated around wherever the Universe sent her.”

  “That could explain why I can’t find much on her.” But it doesn’t tamp down my alarm. Was Daisy homeless? The idea that my soul mate has been here in the city all along, suffering without my knowledge… the turmoil of that forces me to step back and pull in a breath. There was nothing you could do, Akkan. The reassurance is empty, though. My soul knows too well you can lose everything simply by not being where you were
supposed to be.

  Daisy moves, but in a different way from before—her whole body seems to stiffen.

  I ease closer, and Jayda and Grace watch her as well. Her head twitches, a silent no, then the tension curls her shoulders forward, just slightly, but it’s so strange, nothing like before, I’m afraid something’s happening. I scan the monitor, and her heart rate has picked up. Blood pressure too. Nothing triggering any alarms, but still—

  Daisy gasps—a sudden, massive intake of air—and bolts straight up in the bed!

  I jolt and stumble back. Grace lets out a muffled cry.

  “Oh, shit!” Jayda rears back, surprised.

  Daisy’s chest is heaving, her mouth gaped as she struggles to open her eyes…

  Then she turns and looks straight at me. “It’s you,” she whispers, her eyes finally going wide.

  My heart lurches, but words are trapped in my frozen mind. Her eyes are beautiful—deep brown rimmed in black, dilated like she’s been seeing a darkness for years. She blinks, several times, but never loses focus on me. “I’m ready,” she breathes, and I know she’s speaking directly to me like she’s waiting for some kind of order.

  Only I have no idea what. My mouth just hangs open, my heart suspended. She sees me. Finally, after two hundred years, after three weeks in a coma, and she’s ready.

  And I’m standing before her completely speechless and unprepared.

  A muffled sound draws Daisy’s gaze—it’s Grace, both hands over her mouth, her eyes glassed with tears. Jayda’s expression is shocked joy.

  “Oh, my God!” Grace gushes then lurches forward across the railing to throw her arms around Daisy.

  It nearly knocks her over.

  I’m there in a flash, my arm behind Daisy’s back. She’s so frail. It’s like holding a bird in my hand and trying not to crush it. Her head rolls back, her eyes finding me again.

  “Grace!” Jayda’s chastising her and pulling her back.

  “Shit.” Grace practically curls in on herself.

  But they both fade from my mind, my whole attention absorbed by Daisy’s luminous eyes searching mine. “I’m ready,” she whispers again, but her body isn’t. She’s slumping, her eyes blinking rapidly, and I can barely lay her back before she’s gone again, head falling to the side, breath escaping in one long sigh.

  My heart’s ready to explode. I turn to Jayda and Grace, the horror on their faces a mirror of my wordless torment. “Get the nurse,” I finally manage to get out.

  Jayda’s eyes fly wide, and she whirls around, rushing out of the room.

  “Oh, God. Oh, God.” Grace covers her mouth with both hands.

  My arm is still trapped under Daisy’s once-more inert body. I slowly ease it out, my heart pounding as I scan the monitor. Her heartbeat is slow but steady. There’s no reason to think she’s any worse off than she was a minute ago. But the tightness in my chest says something different.

  My sleeping beauty woke up. I had my one moment with my soul mate.

  And I didn’t say a thing.

  Three

  Daisy

  Opening my eyes is getting easier.

  The bone-deep weariness is lifting. Every time I wake up, I feel a little stronger. And I’m sleeping now. No more trembling lakes and purple clouds. No dreams at all. Just drifting off into a blissful nothingness, then waking up again, long enough to eat and use the facilities, and then I’m pretty wiped, and it’s back to bed.

  Each and every time, the Master is here.

  I’m too tired to talk, and he asks nothing of me. Just holds my hand when I’m rising from the bed. Adjusts my pillow before I sink into it once again. Gives me privacy when the nurse comes for my sponge bath. I have to look like a drowned possum, but there’s only kindness in his eyes.

  I drift off each time, knowing he’s waiting for me. Patient. Until I’m strong enough for whatever the Universe has sent him for.

  I take a deep breath and stretch before I open my eyes. When I do, he’s watching me. His slate-blue eyes are darker today, clouded by some unknown concern. He’s an incredibly beautiful man, as an Emperor should be—sculpted cheeks above a precisely trimmed beard; long, loose hair that seems naturally decadent with a touch of wisdom; broad shoulders that carry his mandarin-collared shirt with a certain ease, the top buttons undone like a Greek prince in his afternoon casual attire.

  “Good morning,” he says with a smile, the same greeting no matter whether it’s light or dark outside my hospital room window. “Your breakfast isn’t too cold. Are you hungry?”

  I nod because speaking is still rough.

  He eases up from the chair in a fluid way that says he’s comfortable in his body. I like to watch him move. It’s like seeing a professional dancer walk across a room—we all do it, but not like they do. Their movement is art, made simply by pushing their bones and muscles through space. That’s what the Master is—art in the form of a man.

  I don’t know his name yet. This space we’re holding doesn’t seem to require it.

  He wheels back the tray that swings over my bed, then deftly removes the food tray coverings while I flail for the controls for the bed. He finds them before I do, and the mechanism whirs and lifts the head of it. I gaze at him while we wait. He has tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. They crinkle more when he sees me watching him. After a beat, the smile reaches his lips. Warmth spreads across my face, that same feeling as before, like stepping into a glorious sunspot in the middle of the forest. He was in his Tarot card form then, hovering over me and offering me passage back to the real world.

  I can’t help but wonder why.

  “You look stronger this morning.” He’s pleased by this.

  I glance at the window. The blue sky peeks through the slats. “Morning.” My voice is still so gravelly. Every time I talk, it feels like sandpaper roughing up my throat.

  “Yes.” His voice is eager. He hands me the paper cup filled with juice.

  I sip it down, soothing the ravages of my throat and drinking all I can. I set that next to the plate and contemplate the eggs and toast. No way I can manage the dry bread, so eggs, it is. My hands are steadier now, so I can feed myself. He still unwraps the fork from the plastic and hands it to me.

  I don’t want to complain, but I can do it myself. I make a show of taking a big stab at the eggs and chewing it, grandly. He seems amused, but then it’s all too dry, and I need the juice again. I snag it off the tray before I can cough out eggs and make a mess, but my hand quivers on the way.

  His expression clouds.

  I choke down the egg-juice slurry and decide I need to make better choices in my life. Showing off for the Master isn’t one of them.

  When my mouth is clear, I take a breath and say, “I’m okay.” I give him my most sincere look, so he’ll know I mean it.

  It works. The concern drops off his face. “Keep eating.”

  I obey, forking up the eggs at a more reasonable pace. I’m still working back to solid food anyway, so it’s not like I can eat that much. I poke at a small cluster of grapes. As I’m contemplating those, he picks up the bunch, pulls one off, and pops it in his mouth. His wink is unexpected, as is the flush that runs through me.

  I just stare, and his humor dissipates into something more solemn. He frowns as he returns the grapes to my tray. “Daisy, I…” He stops, seems to think for a moment, then meets my gaze. “You have to wonder why I’m here.”

  Ah. He’s decided it’s time. I want to say, It’s all right. I understand. The cards explained everything. But that rarely goes well with people. Then again, the Master isn’t an ordinary man. Any Fool could see that, and I’m the Queen of them.

  I reach for the juice, swallow some down, then beckon him closer, so I don’t have to speak loudly.

  His eyes light up. His hands rest on the railing of the bed, and he leans on it to bend closer, turning his ear toward me while never letting his gaze fall from my face.

  “You came for me,” I rasp out.

>   He stays close, turning to look me in the eyes. “Yes. I did.” He pierces my soul with that look. A strange mixture of the flush from before and the warm feeling of stepping into the sun seizes hold of my body. He lingers, close, like he’s drinking me in and on the verge of spilling the secrets of the Universe—

  Then he pulls back.

  It’s like being set loose from orbiting the sun. I’m unmoored, unanchored, but more… I’m simply exhausted. The intensity of that one, almost-wordless encounter with this magical man has drained what little reserves I have. I lean back on the raised head of the bed, my eyes falling closed just for a moment.

  He says nothing.

  I open my eyes even though I feel the pull of that deep, dreamless sleep of recovery. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  There’s turmoil on his face, but it’s more than my brain can decipher. He finds the bed controls, and a moment later, I’m sinking back down, the head lowering to the sleeping position.

  By the time it reaches the bottom, I’m already drifting into darkness.

  I don’t know how long I’ve slept—I never do—but this time, when I awake, something’s different. There’s an energy level I haven’t had before. My throat is less sore. I’m feeling human again. All of which feels like an amazing gift from the Universe until I realize…

  The Master is gone.

  My heart leaps. I scan my room, but there’s nowhere he could be hiding—it’s a private room with just my bed and monitors, a TV and dresser I never use, the windows leaking sunshine again, and the tiny bathroom next to them. The door to the nurses’ station is closed, and there’s definitely no one in the room but me.

  Did I scare him off? Or, more likely, I disappointed him. I just haven’t recovered fast enough for whatever purpose he has for me. I’m taking too long. The adrenaline of that—the Universe has finally come through with my purpose, and I’ve missed it!—propels me out of bed. The linoleum floor is cold on my bare feet. My loose cotton nightgown swings around my knees as I hobble to the door with barely-awake legs. I fumble at the paddle doorknob—is it ridiculously difficult to work or am I just weak?—and I finally get it to turn. I shuffle back, swinging open the door—