Son of the Dragon

by T. S. Joyce

  “No,” she said in a firm voice as if he was a puppy who had just pissed on the carpet.

  What the fuck?

  He saw her then…really studied her.

  She looked different from any woman he’d ever seen. He had a light smattering of freckles on his face, a gift from his mother, but this woman had dark freckles that she hadn’t covered with make-up. She displayed them proudly. She had dark, delicately arched eyebrows, a small elf nose, and eyes as black as midnight. Her lips were full, and her straight, brunette hair had been dyed blond at the ends. She was statuesque and curvy. She had that perfect hourglass figure that had the pain in his middle easing by a fraction as he dragged his attention down her body. There was something more about her. Something more than her being a rare beauty. Something he could sense, but couldn’t put a finger on. Mysterious woman.

  “What are you?” Vyr asked.

  “Human,” she answered easily.

  Huh.

  “Can I ask a favor?” she asked.

  “I don’t do interviews.”

  “That’s not what I was going to ask.”

  A low rumble rattled through his body. “I have nothing to offer. Look around, human. I’ve been buried alive. Can’t you see? You’re asking favors of a dead man.”

  “Not a dead man. A half-dead dragon.”

  Vyr clenched his fists and barely resisted the urge to throw his bed against the wall just to quell the rage inside of him. Eyes closed, he counted to three and then locked his gaze on the woman. “What?” he snarled. “What could you possibly want from me?”

  “I ask that you don’t hurt me.” Her eyes grew wider and her mouth set in a grim line. I’m here to help you.

  The last part was a dream, right? Her lips hadn’t moved, but the words were clear in his head. Vyr shook his head hard. He was at the beginning of The Sickening, and he’d been hearing and seeing things lately that weren’t there. Too much time under the earth. Too long away from the sky. Too long in the dark. Too long away from his mountains.

  Too long from his crew.

  Emmitt had definitely shown her the video of him eating that prick guard, of him devouring a monster. Good for Emmitt. She should be wary of Vyr.

  “I don’t make promises I don’t know I can keep. Sorry lady.” He offered her an empty smile and tried to ignore the wave of nausea that wracked his body. Fuckin’ meds were destroying him from the dragon out.

  “Riyah.”

  “What?” Vyr asked.

  “My name is Riyah Mercer. I’m going to be your counselor. I’m going to help you transition during this difficult time.” She’d taken on a professional business voice, but her eyes flickered to the two-way glass of one of the observation rooms behind him.

  Help. Help… I’m here to help.

  Chills rippled up Vyr’s arms, and he shook his head again hard. How many times had he sat here alone in the dark and fantasized about his crew coming through that wall and pulling him from this place? How many times had he wished for help? This woman, Riyah…she wasn’t his crew. She wasn’t going to save him. He was just going crazy with wanting.

  Emmitt dragged in some video equipment.

  “Fuck this,” Vyr snarled, tensing up. “I’ll take your goddamn meds, but I’m not letting you document the transition. Kill my dragon. That’s the goal, right? But I’m not dying on camera.”

  “Settle,” Riyah murmured so low, Emmitt didn’t even react.

  They both went to work, setting up a camera on a tripod. Vyr was gonna love the look on their faces when he crushed that fuckin’ camera without even touching it. Anticipation grew in his middle, and he bit back a devilish smile. He rarely used his powers in front of other people, but fuck it all now, right? He was already dead. Vyr hoped it was expensive equipment. He was gonna let them get all set up, and then he was going to ruin their plans.

  Emmitt adjusted the rifle on his shoulder and stood behind the chair he’d brought in for Riyah. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “This isn’t happening with you in here,” Riyah said in a firm voice.

  Oh hoooo, feisty. God, it was awesome seeing Emmitt’s stupid face go blank and then turn red in anger. Vyr didn’t even hide his smile now. He wished he had popcorn.

  “I’m not leaving you alone in here, Princess.”

  “Call me ‘Princess’ in front of the prisoners again, I dare you.” Power was wafting from Riyah’s skin in waves, and it amped Vyr up. What the fuck was she? Human, but more. Emmitt was full-on human with piddley little human senses, and he wasn’t backing off Riyah like he should.

  Burn him. Burn. Him. Do it. Riyah, Riyah, she’s on fiyah. Show me what you got, little lady.

  Vyr leaned forward on the edge of the mattress, body humming with power. “You heard her, Emmitt. Fuck off.”

  Emmitt’s face was the color of Vyr’s dragon scales now, and a chuckle bubbled up Vyr’s throat. He flinched at the unfamiliar sound. A chuckle? He hadn’t heard himself laugh in six months of being in shifter prison. Someday he was gonna eat Emmitt. He would laugh then, too.

  “It’s your funeral, Princess.”

  Riyah gave Vyr her back as she watched Emmitt walk out of the room and slam the metal door behind him. The noise echoed through the room. Well, that was fun, but he still wasn’t going to let her record him.

  Vyr ducked his face and ran his hands over his shaved head a few times to try to settle down. The nausea was back, and his organs felt like they were on fire. Riyah telling Emmitt to scram had just been a temporary relief. He was still here, still in the same dire situation. Only halfway through his year-long sentence, and he was losing his dragon too fast. He wasn’t going to be able to save him. That much had become clear when one of his eyes froze with the dragon pupil and color last week. The same had happened to Dark Kane when they killed his dragon. The process was half-done. Fuck. He flinched at another wave of gut-wrenching pain.

  “Your eye,” Riyah whispered.

  Plastering a smile on his face, he looked up at her. “You think it’ll get me laid when I get out of here?”

  Riyah sat slowly into the plastic chair and aimed the camera at him.

  Vyr shook his head and ducked his gaze. He couldn’t even look in the mirror. He sure as hell didn’t want video of his dragon dying. He wanted to go out quietly, with his pride intact.

  “You need to do this.”

  “I don’t need to do anything.”

  “Is there volume on the monitors?”

  Surprised by her question, he flickered his gaze to her and then back down. “Not when I don’t want there to be.” A quick, empty smile flickered across his face and disappeared before he murmured, “Scared yet?”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “Not of you, though. For you.”

  Vyr frowned. Her voice had stayed steady when she’d said it. “What the fuck is going on? Who are you?”

  “I told you. I’m Riyah, the human.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Why?”

  “Are you a vampire?”

  “No. I told you, I’m—”

  “Yeah, yeah, human.” Softly, he sang, “Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you tell everyone.”

  “You wanna spill yours first then?”

  Touché. “I’m still not doing this.”

  Riyah arched an eyebrow, and a red flashing light captured his attention. It was on the camera, but Riyah hadn’t touched it. Hmmm.

  With a snarl, he dropped his face in his hands and scrubbed them down. He hadn’t slept well in six months and probably looked like hell. This video would likely be released to the public. “I don’t want my mom to see me like this,” he murmured. “I’m her only kid.”

  “I know. Can you state your full name?”

  “I said I don’t want to do interviews.”

  “Your father has requested this.”

  That was a lie. Her voice had faltered. Vyr hated liars. Maybe she was part of the New IESA too, just like all the assholes who came in he
re and took pieces of his skin, vials of his blood, who operated on him. Maybe she was supposed to play good cop and get him to open up. Well, fuck that. He was dead inside, and no pretty face was going to change that.

  Liar, liar, he hated liars. Why couldn’t he read her mind? It pissed him off. Usually, he hated this part of his power. It dumped into everyone’s mind, but right now he wanted it. He wanted to see her intentions because she was mixing him up. And even if his father had sent her? Vyr would still refuse this interview because Damon Daye was the one who had helped put him behind bars. He would feel his father’s betrayal for the rest of his days. Vyr clenched his hands on his knees in a desperate attempt to soothe the sickly, raging dragon in his middle.

  “What are your feelings after being here for six months?” she asked, looking down at a clipboard with her pen poised to write notes.

  “I don’t have feelings,” Vyr said in a dead voice. “Never did.” He wished he could see what she was writing.

  “I’ve read your file and am aware you have had some issues with authority. What can this facility do to make this experience easier on you?”

  “You mean what can they do to control me better?”

  “Sure.”

  Vyr ripped his gaze away from her and didn’t answer. He wasn’t giving them any more ammunition against him.

  She tried again in a quieter, softer voice. “If you could have one thing here, for comfort, what would it be?”

  Losing his damn mind, he uttered his only wish. “My crew.” His voice broke on the last word. He missed them so fucking bad.

  Riyah’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “They’re trying to take your dragon. If you want to say something, request something, ask for help…do it now.”

  Help. I’m here to help you, Vyr. Let me help. Clara. Clara. Clara Daye. I’m here because of Clara Daye.

  Vyr stared at his arms, stared at the gooseflesh that covered them. He never got cold. Okay. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe this was The Sickening. But that sounded like Riyah’s voice in his head. She was reaching for him. He could feel it. Her chest was heaving now as she stared at him, and her eyes were rimmed with moisture. Please, she mouthed. She arched her eyebrows and nodded.

  Mom sent Riyah to him? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had to think. This was that little wisp of hope he’d been craving. She was offering it to him, right? But in here, he couldn’t trust anyone. Not even if she claimed to be sent by his mother. Fuck. Think. She was offering him what? Help how? No one could help him stay steady, stay strong, except…

  The Sons of Beasts. His crew.

  Vyr swallowed hard and said, “Breaking and entering.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Vandalism. Illegal fights.”

  Vyr blinked slowly and locked his fiery gaze on the camera. And then he gave an order he hadn’t given in six months. He put the force in his voice that made his crew do what he said. He gave an alpha order to Torren, Nox, Nevada, and Candace. “Come. Here.”

  Reaching for the camera with his mind, he turned it off. Riyah was staring at the red light that wasn’t flashing anymore. Her dark eyes were round with shock. With a small gasp, she blinked and looked at him. Her eyes were still wet with unshed tears, but now they were full of confusion.

  “You’re not just a mind-reader.” She searched his eyes, chest moving fast with her quickening breath. “Witch,” she said in a rush.

  “I’m not a witch.”

  She stood quickly and hugged her clipboard to her chest. “I didn’t say you were.”

  Holy shit. Vyr sat up straighter. Witch. Riyah was a witch, and that meant she was like him. Other than his mother, he’d never met anyone like him. He’d been alone his whole life with this kind of power, trying to hide it.

  There was this moment. The wall lifted in her mind, and she let him in. They were in a dungeon, marked with the scorches of his tortured fire, but all he could see was that trailer from her memories. Inside there were dried plants everywhere, and jars in rows on a table, all labeled. There were stacks of ancient-looking books. The little girl handed the bouquet of flowers to a smiling blond woman with dark, dark freckles all over her face, like Riyah’s. “Thank you, my little witch,” she murmured, pulling the girl into a hug. It was one of those tight embraces Vyr could feel, even through the memory. He felt hugged. He felt the love between them.

  Riyah slammed the door on him again, and as he came back to the room, shocked and touched and hurting and hopeful, two tears streaked down Riyah’s cheeks.

  “I want your word. Don’t burn me.”

  A witch’s biggest fear, right? Death by fire. And she’d come here and risked burning…for his mother? For him? He wanted to know everything, but they were being watched. He could feel eight people in the observation rooms, feel their undivided attention.

  He’d never had control over the dragon though, and The Sickening was only making him worse. The meds made him worse. He couldn’t make her that promise. He would probably be the death of her if she stuck around. All he could do was explain the monster and hope she would forgive him for the things he would have to do in here.

  “You watched the footage of me eating that guard.”

  She nodded once, and he could smell it—her fear was back. It made him nauseous all over again.

  “I can’t make you any promises. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded for a long time, and looked sad. He was used to that look. He let everyone down. It was best she accepted he wasn’t some hero right here and now. It was best she see what he really was—Vyr was fire. He was mindless and deadly when the dragon took him. He was flames that burned up everything he touched.

  She gathered the camera and chair and made her way to the door. Something awful snaked in his gut as he realized this was the first and last time he would talk to someone who was anything like him. It would be back to the darkness after this.

  “Riyah,” he murmured right before she disappeared through the metal exit door.

  “Yeah?” she asked in a shaking voice.

  “I ate that guard, and I would do it again. I have zero regrets for anyone I’ve ever devoured. You should know that. But you should also ask yourself why I didn’t get any time added to my sentence for eating him.”

  Her dark eyebrows drew down in confusion. So pretty. He loved her freckles that were like her mom’s, and those clear, dark eyes. Windows to a beautiful soul, and he knew it was pure because she’d let him in for a glimpse. He liked the way she smelled like dried plants, and she’d shared a happy memory—something beautiful in the fires of hell. This stranger had given him the best gift he’d ever received. She’d let him feel touch, feel an embrace, feel love right when he’d forgotten what all of that was.

  He wanted her to come back. It was selfish. Selfish monster. He would hurt her. He hurt everyone he got close to, but he wanted her to come back and give him pretty moments again.

  When she walked out that door, the sound of it clicking closed was the ugliest sound he’d ever heard in his thirty years on this earth.

  Then the lights turned off, and he was in the dark once again.

  Chapter Three

  Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Settle down, Emmitt’s watching. Vyr is like me?

  On a bigger scale though. He was much more powerful than her. She could sense it. He felt like he took up much more space than he actually did because of the power rolling off him in waves. And he’d said he could turn off the volume on the cameras. Had he? Her hands were shaking so bad. Her whole body was. She’d felt him there, in her mind, in that memory when she’d lifted the veil and let him in. When she’d reached out for him. That was a secret memory. One of Mom. One of the happy ones. Before everything went wrong.

  Vyr is like me.

  She’d been alone all these years, hiding, using her powers quietly in her job. She was a counselor because she could calm beastly men and she could sense when they would explode. She could tell who was salvageable.

  And
that man out there didn’t feel salvageable at all. Not even a little bit. He was dark and out of control, and his aura was the color of mud. He was sick—body and head. Barely keeping control. Barely keeping insatiable power at bay. Oh, the guards here didn’t have any clue what they were dealing with. If that creature out there…that beautiful, deadly creature…ever got it in his head he wanted to leave, he could blow this prison off the map.

  No, he didn’t feel salvageable, but Riyah couldn’t let him fade to nothing. Couldn’t let him fade, couldn’t let him use that fire, or it would make everything worse.

  He’d called his crew, and now she had to get this video to them somehow. No matter what, this was the most important thing. Every instinct told her she was a part of something big here. She’d always had these feelings. Like when her life took a turn, she could tell if it was important. She could tell if it was a step to something bigger. And she’d been bouncing on stepping stones all her life to get here, to Vyr, to a man who had powers like her.

  She wasn’t alone.

  And she was going to make sure he wasn’t alone as he lost his dragon, either. Oh, she knew what “cleansing” did to shifters. She knew the stats. Sixty-four percent of them died from the process. How many had been killed from testing, from IESA, and from the New IESA, and from aaaall the little secret government factions that researched shifters? She couldn’t let Vyr be a number. He wasn’t salvageable, but he wasn’t evil. She knew evil. She could sense it, and that man out there was just trying to keep control of something so, sooooo much bigger than him.

  That dragon inside of him…it was a miracle the world was still here at all and not smoke and ashes. Vyr, the human, was hands-down the strongest man she’d ever met. Yet, the media dragged him through the mud.

  Out of control.

  Put him down.

  Careless.

  Man-eater.

  Unsafe.

  They didn’t understand what she now did. Vyr had kept an incredible amount of control over the beast within him. He’d been controlling a monster for three decades, and no one gave him the credit he deserved.