by Lori Whyte
The dark figure loomed over her. He was shouting, but all she heard was a roar of sounds. The words were unclear. He reached into the hole and grabbed at her hair. She wrenched away, wincing as a handful of strands pulled free.
Then she ran, chased down the passage by the dragon's angry howl.
Chapter 2
When she reached the end of the tunnel, Jasmine ached. She was gasping for air and her nightshirt was drenched with sweat and coated in dirt. Had she made it? Had she really escaped the deadly predators who hunted her? Her own house was a mile away. All she had to do now was get to the vehicle she and her aunt had hidden in the shed a few steps away.
The early morning air beyond the opening made her shiver. She peered cautiously into the quiet cemetery. Her spot was hidden behind a hedge. Thankfully it was still early autumn and the leaves hadn't dropped yet. She didn't see anything. She listened, straining to catch any stray sound. Nothing.
It had been a harrowing race through the passage. At least four times a blast of heat scorched the air at her back. Each time, she imagined the dragon shooting fire from his mouth as he dug through the earth to find her. It wouldn't take long for them to follow her here. She had to go.
She took a deep breath and stepped out of the opening. She scanned the sky for the telltale shadows of dragons. There weren't any.
Just one more big push. Just one more sprint. She was almost there.
As soon as she broke cover, nausea swept over her. No. She couldn't stop. She ran, ignoring the sharp stabbing pains wrapping over her leg muscles. She wasn't a runner. She wasn't much for any sport, but running was the worst of the worst.
But she could do it. She had no choice.
A shriek pierced her feeble feeling of safety.
No, they couldn't have found her. She was so close…
Another dragon's cry cut through the air, but it was fainter now.
They were going away from her. She wanted to cry with joy. She jerked the shed's double doors open. Thank God everything was as she'd left it. She raced toward the familiar boxy shape of her minivan. She fumbled with the door handle, then jumped in. She took a deep breath. Enclosed within the van inside the shed, she felt safe for the first time since her nightmare.
It was going to be okay.
She fished the keys out of the glove compartment.
A few minutes later, her old life was merely a fading dot in her rearview mirror. The pale peach color of the impending sunrise was incongruent with the red-hot panic that still chugged through her veins. A dark streak of smoke spiraled up from the horizon. Her chest tightened. It was coming from her home—or what used to be her home.
She pounded the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. Damn it. Why her?
But she knew why. It was her damn ex-boyfriend Colin Cyr.
At least she had ended their fleeting relationship before they had made it to the bedroom. If he hadn't set his eyes on her bakery after they had split, none of this would have happened. Or rather, it wouldn't have happened to her. Some other poor girl would be running for her life instead, because even Colin couldn't control the alliance with the dragons.
But he could and did control everyone's lives locally. There was no doubt he had engineered it so she was elected as the first sacrifice. Yes, she was a single woman with no immediate family, but her business was a cornerstone of their community. People lined up out the door for her fresh pastries and bread for their families.
He was probably already over there with a seizure notice in his hand. The government's letter had been very clear that all dragon sacrifices—or volunteers—forfeited their right to land ownership in human communities.
She turned her vehicle toward the bakery before she could stop herself. It was stupid. It was a crazy risk. But that bastard was not going to destroy her life and reap the rewards of her hard work.
No way, no how.
The streets downtown were empty. It was still too early for most citizens of their little town to be out of bed, let alone thinking about going to work yet. The welcoming quietness soothed her. If this were a weekday, she would have been in her bakery's kitchen already.
She parked the minivan beside the side entrance, not in her usual parking spot, but she didn't plan on being here that long. Still barefoot and in her nightshirt, she hurried to the door. The fake brick in the wall scraped when she pulled it from its place. She dug out the spare key and looked over her shoulder.
No one was there. Yet.
She had to make this fast.
The familiar aromas of yesterday's baked goods, which were still on display, flowed over her when she entered. On a normal day, her first step would be to transfer those to the day-old shelves. But today wasn't normal. She didn't bother with the light. That would attract too much attention if someone happened to drive by. Besides, she didn't need it. She knew her bakery better than she knew the home where she'd been raised.
The commercial-grade ovens and mixers were too large to grab and take with her. Unfortunately. She'd saved her pennies for two years to buy the new deck oven, and it had been worth it. Her bread sales had doubled after that.
Tears gathered in her eyes, but she wiped them away. She didn't have time for melancholy.
She entered her closet-sized office and crossed straight to a tattered recipe book. She knew the recipes by heart, but it was the most important thing she owned. She would not leave it for Colin. He might be able to force her out of town, but he wasn't going to steal her secret recipes too.
That was it. That was all she needed to do.
On her way to the exit, she paused in the heart of her little kingdom again. A fresh wave of anger washed over her. Why should he get any of this?
A few minutes later, she was laughing to herself like a maniac as she climbed into her getaway car. Perhaps if the dragons ever found her she would be completely crazy by then.
She parked a block away and waited. The time on her dashboard clock ticked slowly on. It wouldn't be long now. She used the time to dig into the bag of clothing she'd stashed in the minivan months ago. She shimmied into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. She had just tugged on her sneakers when Colin's car pulled into her usual parking stall. Damn him. He wasn't supposed to be here yet. And what the hell was he doing parking in her stall?
Shit. She grabbed her door handle. She had to stop him before—
And then the air shook with a huge boom.
Colin scrambled out of his car. He was covering his ears, but he looked uninjured. Thank God. She hadn't wanted him to have her bakery, but she didn't want to kill him.
Flames encircled the bakery. She had just sabotaged the one thing she'd worked her whole life to achieve. It was gone.
And now she needed to disappear too.
***
Kylan hadn't heard from Dillon for hours and now he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What do you mean she is missing? How did that happen?"
"She had an escape hatch in her bathroom that no one knew about."
"To where? The middle of the earth?"
"Actually it led to a local cemetery, quite a nice old place with—"
"What's going on now?" Kylan brought his man back to the task at hand. Dillon had a thing for cemeteries, but now wasn't the time. Before the dragon mandate was issued twenty years ago, Dillon had planned to visit New Orleans and tour the cemeteries. Now they were barely allowed to fly over the mountains without written approval from the local human governments.
"Maryk from the Kelvin clan was breaking into her bedroom when I got there. I tried to stop him, but… I don't know. It was like once he saw her, he flipped into rogue," he said the words with a detached evenness that told Kylan all he needed to know about Dillon's frustration and anger. "I think I've managed to bring him back, but I've advised the on-call collection team to watch him."
Maryk Warryk was more brawn than brains, so if he went rogue they'd have to contain him immediately. Hell, Maryk had probably frightened her into chan
ging her mind about volunteering. Why would the Kelvin clan send him? Kylan shook his aching head. As much as he was happy to have the humans concede to allowing female volunteers, he wished it had happened in another two weeks. Then he could have overseen the proceedings himself.
"What's the plan now?"
"I've circled overhead and can't see anything."
"That's it?"
"And I'm tracking down CCTV footage of Main Street."
"Why?"
"Well, I figure she might have been caught on one when she blew up her bakery."
"You never told me about that," Kylan said.
"Oh, yeah. The place exploded in a ball of fire."
Kylan rubbed his forehead. "Okay. Keep me posted."
"Hey, Kylan," Dillon said. "I saw her…"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Dillon paused. "I liked her and you would too. She would be—"
"Let's find her first, okay?" Kylan stopped his primary before he could finish his sentence. There was too much hope in Dillon's tone. "She could decide to go somewhere else."
Kylan disconnected the call and shook his head. He couldn't let Dillon or himself start thinking about this woman as anything other than an innocent to protect until she claimed her clan. Besides, she sounded like trouble. The officials at the human government had assured the Dragon Council that the women would be of sound mind. Had they lied? Already?
If she was unstable, she'd put his clan at risk. He needed not only a strong woman, but a tender one too. This one didn't sound like the right one for them.
The last thing they needed was more unsuitable women to house. They had enough of those show up with their Dragon's Tears addictions, looking for a fix. They had to keep the addicts, though, reconciling to themselves that at least they were safer with the Mannix clan than some of the others. A crazy lady, on the other hand? They were under no moral obligation to house her.
As he stared out the window, restlessness ate at him. He couldn't stand being trapped in this damned cabin. Its little rooms felt as though they were closing in on him. He couldn't stay here, but he couldn't leave his isolation either. The scant light in the otherwise gloomy sky would be disappearing into the west soon. If he could fly, he could pierce the clouds and find sunlight.
The only escape available to him was the forest. It called to him. It wasn't as if there was anything he could do to help Dillon anyway.
Tonight he'd slip into the gathering darkness and surrender to whatever opportunity awaited.
Chapter 3
Shit. The gas gauge was flirting with empty. Jasmine glanced into the rearview mirror for the millionth time. She hadn't seen another vehicle for over an hour, but she couldn't shake the worry that any minute a convoy of irritated human police officers and an army of angry dragon shifters would descend upon her. The image was all too real. She shuddered.
She'd bounced over the rough forestry trunk road for hours and her body was weary, but she had to press on. The heavy overcast skies clinging close to the earth as she neared the mountains were her friends today. She wanted to go as far as she could under their cover, which meant she needed to stop and fill her gas tank.
Her heart pounded as she pulled to the shoulder. At least the dense pine and aspen trees crowding up against the edge of the road might shield her from view for a moment. And a moment was all she would need.
After she cut the ignition, she rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. She straightened and stretched her fingers. The muscles in her arms quivered, protesting the tight grip she'd been keeping on the steering wheel.
She wasn't cut out to be a fugitive. She was a baker, not a gangster.
The road was still barren.
Anxiety surged over her. God almighty, she didn't want to leave the safety of the van. She took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Okay, she couldn't postpone any longer. The gas tank wasn't going to fill itself.
The door opened with a groan. She poked her head out of the opening and peered up. The gray clouds hung low. Nothing marred the uniformity of the sky. No shadows. No movement. Not even a bird.
Shouldn't there have been some birds?
Stillness closed around her. Even the soft yellow leaves of the aspen trees seemed frozen in place, as though the forest was holding its breath to see what would happen next.
Jasmine hopped out, then scurried to the back. The hatch opened smoothly. Her hand trembled as she reached for the closest fuel can.
What the hell?
She jostled the container to confirm her suspicions. It was empty.
She grabbed the second, and then the third. Sonofabitch. How could this have happened? She'd filled them herself. That bastard caretaker who'd let her store the van in the shed must have stolen the fuel.
Damn it. Now what?
She put her hands on her hips and stared at the useless containers. This was not part of the plan. She slammed the hatch closed and scanned the road again. Nothing. She'd purposely chosen this road because it was away from civilization and things like gas stations.
Well, there was only one thing to do: keep driving until the vehicle chugged to a stop and died on the side of the road. With any luck, she would be another fifteen or twenty kilometers away.
Her van died ten minutes later.
She secured her recipe book in her backpack and strapped it on. Her hunting knife and its sheath, a special gift from her aunt, were next. Lastly, she grabbed an empty gas can. It was silly to hope for a gas station, given her surroundings, but she wanted to be prepared in case she found a fuelling spot for the logging trucks.
She looked through the van again, one last time, but there was nothing more to take. Her life had just collapsed into a few things, all of which she could carry at the same time. She shivered. Darkness was settling over the sky now, earlier than normal because of the cloud cover. Maybe she should stay within the van for the night where she would be dry and protected for a little longer. She glanced up at the sky again. Her van would be a sitting target for any dragon flying over.
At least in the forest she had a fighting chance against a coyote or whatever else might live out here. She tightened the strap at her hips. Her sneakers crunched against the loose gravel as she walked. It was the only sound.
Where were the singing birds? The jabbering squirrels? The buzzing bugs?
This silence wasn't natural, was it?
She continued forward until night obliterated any lingering daylight. Then she veered off the road and into the woods. By the light of a single flashlight, she set up her tent and sleeping bag.
After she crawled into her bed, she stared into the darkness. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was whirling. All the anxiety and worry from the day of running spun around and around in her head. One image came back over and over: the gleaming yellow eyes peering at her through her bedroom window this morning.
What was that? A twig breaking? A footstep?
She held her breath as she reached for her flashlight, which was a little plastic thing she'd chosen for its light weight. It was the only weapon she had within reaching distance. Her knife was all the way down by her feet, which was a pretty stupid place to leave it as it turned out.
Her fingers curled around the flashlight. The sleeping bag rustled as she slipped out of it and crawled toward her knife. It was big and serrated and—
"Who is there?" A man's deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
She didn't answer.
A light beam fell over the tent and landed on the entrance.
She stretched for her weapon.
"I can hear you in there." The intruder sounded annoyed as his words rumbled across the darkness. "I know you are awake."
"Leave me alone. I've got a weapon." She clenched her flashlight in one hand and her knife in the other.
He laughed like he was surprised by her answer. "That's not very polite."
"What do you want?"
"You are trespassing on my land."
"I'll be gone
in the morning," she said. "Go away."
"You might as well come out of your tent. I'm not leaving."
She couldn't face him. What if he recognized her? Her picture was probably plastered over every television channel and social media feed.
"Come out, or I'm coming in."
The light beam on the tent jiggled, then the front of her tent wobbled. She saw the shadow of his hands as he tugged at the zipper. Shit, shit, shit. He was calling her bluff. Except it wasn't a bluff. She couldn't let him capture her. Her blood roared in her ears. What the hell was the matter with him? Who invaded someone else's tent without permission? He was giving her no choice…
As soon as the tent gaped open, she blasted him with light, hoping to blind him as she swung forward with her knife.
She struck, wedging the blade deep into… the ground. She'd missed.
Jasmine pulled at the knife as the beam of her flashlight bounced over the forest floor and the trees. Where was he?
Then he chuckled from somewhere to her left. "Looking for me?"
She turned her light toward him. His hair was as dark as the night around them and his eyes glittered like polished onyx. A thin T-shirt hugged his muscular shoulders and chest, almost as nicely as his jeans fit his hips. Man alive. If he hadn't tried to break into her tent, she might have been tempted to invite him in.
She tugged on her knife again. It came free. Thank God. She lifted it in what she hoped was an aggressive and threatening way.
One of his eyebrows lifted as if to say: Are you serious?
"I warned you I had a weapon," she said. "And now you know I'm not afraid to use it."
"Pack your things. You need to move on."
"No. I need to rest. I promise I'll be gone in the morning."
"No." He folded his arms across his massive chest. "Now."
"But—"
"It isn't safe here for single women."
"No shit," she muttered. It wasn't safe for single women anywhere, as far as she could tell.
"Where is your vehicle? I will help you carry your belongings to it."
