Married to a Dragon (No Such Thing as Dragons Book 4)

by Lauren Lively

  He looked over at Aubrey, who refused to look at him. She simply leaned against the counter, clutching her wrist, tears rolling down her face. The man sighed and turned to the two men who were looming over him. They were both big men. Thick through the shoulders and chest. Typical jock types. He may have been able to take one of them. But two? The man was smarter than that.

  He cleared his throat and pulled his hat lower. Without another word, he walked out of the diner and into the chill of the night air. Discretion was the better part of valor. He'd already screwed up once, he wasn't going to make another mistake. Instead, he would get his head back on straight and move forward from there.

  He climbed into his truck and looked back at the diner. The two jocks were still standing in the front windows, watching him. The rage within him swelled as he fired up the truck and he imagined himself driving straight through the front of the diner, crushing both of the jocks beneath the wheels. It would have been grisly, but satisfying.

  Instead of doing that though, he pulled out of the lot and headed off down the highway a bit. He recalled seeing a sign for a rest stop half a mile down the road and when he found it, he pulled in and shut down.

  Taking a few moments to collect himself, the man closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He concentrated, trying to slow his heart rate and clear his mind. He'd let the two jocks get under his skin. He'd let his control slip. But the girl was his. His property.

  And he was going to have her. Nobody was going to stop him. Least of all, a couple of jock frat boys.

  Feeling more grounded and centered, the man grabbed his bag out of the sleeping compartment and climbed out of his truck. He surveyed the lot and saw only two other trucks parked at the far end. The night was dark and the lights in the rest stop were dim – the bulbs in the lights were obviously on their way out. There was more shadow than pools of light, making visibility difficult – something that worked in his favor.

  The man took it as another sign of divine approval.

  Knowing he had about a half mile hike back to the diner, he pulled the dark knit cap over his head, slung his pack on his shoulders, and started the trek back to claim his property.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  The man hunkered down in the bushes along the treeline that separated the forest from the diner's parking lot. From his vantage point, he could see straight through the front windows of the place. The jocks were gone, but the girl was still in there. And it looked like she was getting ready to get off her shift.

  Yet another sign of the divine approval he seemed to be enjoying.

  The night air was growing colder and his breath came out in plumes of steam. The man slipped on his pair of gloves and flexed his fingers, feeling the rush of excitement that always came before he claimed his prize.

  He watched her through the windows as she looked to be finishing up all of her side work. About fifteen minutes after he'd arrived, the girl pulled on her sweater as she walked toward the front door. He smiled and felt the adrenaline surging through him as she walked through the darkened and mostly deserted parking lot.

  And as luck would have it, she was heading straight for him. He hadn't known it at the time, but the car in the lot in front of him was hers. His smile stretched across his face. It was fortuitous. It was divine. How else could he explain the run of signs pointing to the inescapable conclusion that the gods approved of this?

  His mission, came directly from the gods themselves. He never touched an innocent. Never. All of the women he'd claimed had been bad people. Had done bad things. Drug addicts. Child abusers. Whores. They all had some secret they were hiding – something the gods didn't approve of. Something dark, something terrible. And he was their salvation.

  Obviously, this girl, as wholesome and sweet as she appeared to be, had some dark skeletons in her closet. Otherwise, the gods wouldn't have led him to her.

  Step by step, she drew closer to him and his excitement grew. When she stopped at her car and started to unlock it, her back was to him and the man stepped out of the bushes. He was on her before she realized what was happening. His hand clamped over her mouth tightly, his other arm around her waist, he dragged her back into the bushes with him where he had his kit set up and waiting.

  With a well practiced skill, the man got a plastic zip-tie around her wrists and cinched it up good and tight. He pushed her to the ground and straddled her. She struggled and fought, but he was too heavy for the petite girl to move – and he had the duct tape over her mouth in a heartbeat.

  The girl’s eyes were comically wide, tears streaming down her face. The man just smiled down at her.

  “I told you that you should have had a little more respect,” he said.

  The man hauled the girl to her feet by her hair. Slipping a long knife out of the sheath on his belt, he showed it to her and then pressed the flat of the blade against her throat. The girl stopped struggling immediately and stood there sniffling, too terrified to move a muscle.

  “You shouldn't fight this,” he said. “The gods brought me to you for salvation. I don't know what you did in your past, but you can call me your karmic retribution. Now, we're going to walk back to my truck. If you try to scream or try to run off – well – you won't like what happens to you. Or what happens to your pretty little face.”

  The girl stared at him in absolute terror and he smiled. He ran a hand long her smooth thigh, slipping it up underneath her skirt and patted her butt, giving it a rough squeeze.

  “Firm. Nice,” he said. “I like it.”

  The girl's body shook with sobs and the man delivered a vicious backhand that knocked her off her feet. She landed on her backside with a grunt.

  “Stop crying,” he hissed. “I don't like it when girls cry. Makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong. But I'm not. I'm saving you.”

  She looked at him, her eyes still flooded with tears. He held the knife up again, pointing the blade straight at her.

  “I said, stop crying,” his voice was smooth, low. “Or as that old saying goes, I'm going to give you something to cry about.”

  The girl's body shook, but she was choking back her sobs. Or at least, she was trying to. When he felt that she'd gotten herself sufficiently under control, he got her back to her feet again.

  “Now, you and me are gonna take a little walk through the woods,” he said. “I'm taking you back to my truck and we're gonna go for a little ride. If you're good and accept my salvation, I'll let you go home. But, if you're bad – well, let's just not think about that. You look like a good girl. You're gonna be good, right?”

  The girl nodded her head eagerly and the man smiled at her.

  “Promise?” he asked. “Cross your heart, hope to die, and all that?”

  The girl nodded again and muttered something beneath the tape over her mouth.

  “Excellent,” he said and pointed the way he wanted her to walk with her knife. “Now, go. Walk.”

  The girl hesitated and looked back toward the diner as if hoping that somebody would come rushing in to save her. The man gave her a disapproving frown.

  “Nobody's coming for you,” he said. “And you promised that you were gonna be good. Don't forget your promise, now.”

  She turned and walked into the darkness of the forest with the man right behind her. The clouds had cleared slightly, casting the world in a silvery light. But deep in the forest, with a thick canopy overhead, only spears of that ghostly light filtered through.

  Still, it was enough for the man to get a decent view of the girl's backside and he really liked what he saw. He admired the way it swished back and forth beneath her skirt. Liked the way those shapely legs of hers moved. The girl was gorgeous and the man felt himself growing aroused as he watched her walking.

  That fire of need burned brightly in him as he watched the girl and he knew that he had to have her – and he didn't think it would wait until he got back to his truck.

  “Stop,” he said.

  The girl stopped bu
t didn't turn around. She stared straight ahead into the darkness, obviously not even wanting to meet his eyes. The man grabbed her and roughly spun her around to face him. He planted a soft line of kisses up her neck and he felt her body tensing beneath his touch.

  “Do you want the salvation I'm offering?” he asked softly. “Do you want to be saved?”

  The girl didn't move, didn't give him an answer, one way or the other, to his questions. She simply stood there, rooted to her spot, her body tense, frozen in fear. And to him, that was very arousing.

  He pushed her back toward a fallen tree. Kept her walking back until she bumped into it. Fresh tears sprung from her eyes, so the man turned her around, not wanting to see it. He bent her over the fallen log and ran his hands down her back, sliding them up her skirt, fondling and squeezing her from behind. With a savage growl, the man tore her panties right off of her and rubbed them all over his face, moaning low as he did.

  The girl's body was spasming and the man knew she was crying. But he didn't care. He started to unbuckle his belt when he heard a twig snapping some where out in the darkness of the woods. He stopped and held his breath, waiting and watching. But he saw nothing out there.

  “Probably an animal,” he muttered.

  The sound of a choked sob escaped the girl he had bent over the fallen tree. He stepped forward and continued with his pants when the sound of another twig snapping caught his attention. But his blood really ran cold when the sound of whistling drifted out of the darkness.

  “Who's there?” he called. “Show yourself.”

  He waited. Nothing.

  The man drew the knife from his sheath again and turned in a slow circle, looking for the source of the sound. It could have been an animal, he reasoned with himself. But deep down, he knew that what he had heard – and was hearing – was the work of man.

  The man turned and turned, growing frustrated as the whistling continued. “Come out and face me, coward,” he called.

  The girl started to stand, but he quickly and roughly forced her back down over the log again. Looking at her for a moment, he stepped closer to her and put the tip of his blade down on the back of her neck. He had no idea if whoever was out there was trying to save her or not, but he didn't have many options, so he rolled the dice.

  “Come out or she dies.”

  The whistling stopped abruptly and the silence that followed lent a far more sinister and ominous feeling to the atmosphere in the forest. The man opened his mouth to call out the person walking around in the darkness, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was an agonized scream.

  A hand had clamped down around his wrist from behind and turned it roughly. The man screamed as his attacker bent his wrist back at an unnatural angle – and kept bending it until the man felt and heard the bones in his wrist snapping at it shattered.

  He dropped the knife and clutched his wounded hand to his chest. Spinning around, the man found himself face-to-face with one of the two guys from earlier in the diner. There was a vicious, predatory grin on his face.

  “Hi,” the guy said. “Remember us?”

  Emerging from a dark pool of shadow was the second guy from the diner and the man had to look twice. Somehow, the guy's eyes seemed to be glowing in the darkness. The man shook his head and the other guy's eyes were normal again. He attributed the fact that he was seeing things to the agony he was currently in.

  “Y – you broke my damn wrist,” the man howled.

  “You're lucky that's all I did,” he said. “Considering what you were about to do there.”

  The second guy helped the waitress to her feet and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. He walked her a small way off, speaking in quiet tones. The man watched as the girl scampered away into the darkness, the sound of her sobs seeming to fill the woods all around him.

  “I wasn't doin' anything,” he said.

  The second man scoffed and the first man just shook his head before he spoke. “You know,” he said. “We love this town. We love it very much, in fact. This is our home. Where good, decent people raise families –”

  “Look,” the man said. “I was just passing through town. That waitress and I – what we were doing was just having a little fun, y'know? Totally consensual fun.”

  “Not what it looked like to me,” the second guy said.

  “Me either,” said the first guy.

  “Yeah, well, that's what it was.”

  The first man sighed and shook his head again. Then, both guys began circling the man. His heart raced, his wrist throbbed, and sweat dotted his brow. He wasn't used to feeling nervous – he was always the one in control. But he realized that in this situation, he was very much, not in control. And he knew, by the look in their eyes, that things were about to get really bad for him.

  “Look guys,” he said, licking his lips nervously, “we can work this out. This is all a misunderstanding.”

  “Like I was saying,” the guy said, “this is our home. And we don't appreciate trash like you coming in and making a mess of things. We work hard to make sure our peaceful little town stays that way.”

  “I'll leave,” the man said quickly. “I'll leave and never come back. You'll never see –”

  “Oh, I think we've passed that point,” the second guy said.

  “A long time ago.”

  “It doesn't have to go this way,” the man stammered. “Let's just part ways –”

  The two men stopped circling suddenly – one in front and one behind him. They were silent for a long, tense moment and the knot in the man's stomach constricted painfully. His body was tense and his eyes surveyed the forest around him, looking for an escape route.

  The first guy clapped his hands, the crack echoing around the woods. “Tell you what,” he said, a broad smile on his face. “Just to prove to you that we're not bad guys and can actually be pretty reasonable, we're going to give you a chance.”

  “A – a chance?”

  The guy nodded. “Yup. A chance,” he said. “In life, a chance is all we can really expect, right? It's what we do with that chance that matters.”

  The man shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  They two guys shared a look. The man watched as slow smiles spread across their faces and thought it was like they were communicating telepathically or something.

  “Here's what we're going to do,” the first guy said. “We're going to give you a head start. If you can make it back to your truck, it's all good, bro. If we catch you though – that's when things are going to get fun.”

  “At least, for us,” said the second guy.

  “Wha – I don't know what –”

  The guy looked pointedly at his watch. “If I were you, I'd start running, bro.”

  “But, wait –”

  “Tick tock,” the second guy said and laughed. “You're burning up that head start we're giving you.”

  “Seriously,” the first guy said, his tone turning icy cold. “Run. Run now.”

  The man stared at him for a long moment and watched as the guys eyes seemed to light up – from the inside. It wasn't the moonlight reflecting off of them. It wasn't some other trick of light and shadow – the guy's eyes glowed.

  With a jolt of adrenaline coursing through him, the man turned and ran into the darkness of the forest. Clutching his busted wrist to his chest, the man ran as fast as he could, doing his best to avoid getting tangled in the brush or tripping over anything. It wasn't easy, but he wanted to live, so he gritted his teeth and ran.

  The sound of laughter echoed around the forest. He hated to admit it – even if only to himself – but, hearing the disembodied laughter of the two guys chasing him, trying to kill him, was terrifying. His heart was beating a staccato rhythm in his chest and the current of fear washing through him was so thick that he wet his pants as he ran.

  But he didn't care. He just wanted to get back to his truck and get the hell away from that town. He wanted nothing more than to put it in his rea
r-view and never darken the doorstep of Black Salmon Falls ever again.

  The man came to a screeching halt on the path. Standing in front of him, about fifty yards off was one of the guys. He could only see his silhouette, but the man knew it was one of them. But how had he gotten so far ahead of him?

  The sound of footsteps in the brush behind him sent a wave of fear through the man. He was cut off from the most direct route to his truck, so he turned and plunged deeper into the forest. He hoped that he'd be able to lose them among the trees and then circle back around to the rest area where he'd parked.

  His breathing was labored and his legs burned. He wasn't in very good shape to begin with and wasn't used to that kind of exertion. But given the fact that it truly was a matter of life or death, the man had no choice but to keep running.

  When he entered the clearing, he tripped over a rock hidden in the tall grass and was sent sprawling. Acting on instinct, the man threw his hands out to break his fall – and instantly regretted the decision. The shockwave of pain that radiated through his entire body from his busted wrist was enormous. Unlike any pain he'd ever experienced before. The man screamed, his voice echoing out into the night.

  The pain was so intense that tears streaked down the man's face as he got to his feet. And when he raised his head, he couldn't immediately process what he was seeing. Six men in dark robes, their hoods pulled low over their faces, stood in the clearing facing him. A couple of them held torches, casting the field in an odd, flickering light.

  The man didn't know who they were, but he didn't think they were there to help him. The sound of footsteps behind him made him turn and when he saw the two guys who'd been chasing him, his heart dropped into his stomach. His legs turned to jelly and he fell to his knees.

  “Looks like we caught you,” one of the guys behind him said.

  “Yeah, what a shame,” said the other.

  A long moment of silence spun out and the man knew he was in trouble. Knew he was going to die. He didn't know how it had all gone so wrong, so quickly. Not that it mattered anymore. It had gone wrong and he knew that he was going to pay the price.