by Ines Johnson
What the actual hell?
Beside her, Rose heard a moan. The moan was sleepy but pleasure-filled. She craned her neck to see that her sister hung beside her. Same dark purple ropes. Same blooming roses at the knots.
Seeing her sister bound like that had Rose seeing red. She tugged again at the ropes, uncaring of the pain. A sound alerted her to movement to the side. It was a tinkling sound, like nails tapping against the dinner table.
Darkness separated itself from pitch black. Rose thought she made out a pair of wings. But no bird’s wings were large enough to span that width, the size of two cars parked side by side.
The wings folded inward with a snap. The sound reminded Rose of an umbrella folding. The large, lizard-like body gave itself a shake as though it was shaking off dew drops.
Rose could only gape as she stared. Then memories hit her.
The purple-haired woman with the kickass boots.
The gun held in Gates’s shaky hands.
The bullet tossed at Park as she ran.
The dragon smiling at Rose as she was flung out of a window.
Dragon.
Rose stared at the dark form. She blinked, and the dragon was gone. Standing before her was a man. A tall man with more muscles than any bodybuilder she’d ever seen. Shoulders that looked like boulders. Thighs that looked like tree trunks. And a third leg that…
No. That wasn’t a leg. That appendage was what made Rose avert her gaze and continue her struggle.
“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself.”
Rose stilled at the sound of that deep voice. Just like the ropes that sent pleasure through her when she let them hold her still, the man’s voice sent the same bliss-filled waves down to the core of her body. Rose told her loins and the burgeoning Stockholm Syndrome to fuck off.
“Hey.” The naked man waved his hands in a friendly manner that had no place in this kidnapping. “I’m your new brother.”
“What?” said Rose, her voice quaking so much on the single word that she barely heard herself.
“Yes,” the naked man grinned. “Welcome to the family.”
“What?” Rose’s voice gained enough traction that time to carry around the room.
That’s when Lily opened her eyes. Her sister’s gaze went wide as she took in the scene; her bound hands, the naked man. And then Lily screamed so loud, so violently, that the man covered his ears. Once the last gust of air left Lily, she promptly passed out again.
“Would you look at that,” said the naked man with a grin that looked smitten. “A true damsel in distress. I’m going to be her hero.”
Chapter Five
Ilia had a mate. Finally. After waiting dutifully in line behind his older brothers when they’d all agreed to be gentlemen about mating. Then trying to cut in front by using his fists when they’d gone back on their word. Only to give his brothers the benefit of the doubt once more when they’d agreed to his dibs.
It had all worked out in the end. He had a mate. And she was perfect.
Looking down at her lovely form, Ilia wondered if this is what his hero Arnold felt like when he’d won Mr. Olympia for the first time. Ilia certainly felt like he was a mountain in comparison to his mate. Where he was boulders and crags, she was branches and twigs.
Her slender limbs were a little too fine. There was no bruising on her wrist where the ropes met flesh. Because his mate was more bone than flesh.
He saw the protrusions of her carpus as he unbound her hands. Her skin was pale, more porcelain than the golden tan he was used to seeing in Chryssie, Poppy, and Cardi.
Although Cardi had looked very sick when she’d first arrived. But after Cardi had opened her eyes and then her mouth, the little spitfire quickly brightened and filled out, much to Kimber’s dismay.
Ilia was certain his mate would do the same once she woke up. She’d probably shine brighter than Cardi and put on more weight. All of which Ilia would love to see happen. Despite only having fairies in his bed, he had always been attracted to the fairer sex that had a little extra meat on their bones.
Looking over at his mate’s twin, he noted that she was only slightly more meaty. The twin had bruises on her wrists. Unlike Ilia’s mate, the sister had struggled. She was struggling still as she hurled every manner of foul word at Ilia as he surveyed his bride-to-be.
“Only a man with a carrot for a dick would ever need to kidnap a woman to get his kicks.”
“A carrot?” asked Ilia. “Those are quite long, you know. And firm.”
“And skinny. And breakable with a good crunch of the jaw.”
Ilia spared his soon-to-be sister-in-Goddess a glance. Upon his second perusal, he realized she looked nothing like his mate. There was a wildness in her eyes. Her flushed skin was more pink than porcelain, like she had fire waiting to shoot out of her veins and burn him.
“I didn’t kidnap you,” he said, cradling his mate’s lolling head in the crook of his arm. “That was the Valkyrie.”
Ilia returned his attention to his mate. Though her frame was frail, her proportions were bountiful. Her waist was slender, but her hips were round and full, a good size for breeding.
“Morrigan didn’t kidnap you,” he continued. “She saved you. You both have fire in your blood. You would not have lived long beyond the Veil.”
Trails of red veins snaked across his mate’s chest, leading his eyes to her breasts. They appeared to be handfuls. The swell of them peeked from the bust line of her threadbare shirt.
“If you touch her, I will cut off your balls with a spoon.”
Inside his body, Ilia’s dragon sat up on its haunches. “A spoon? You know that has no sharp edges.”
“Exactly,” the twin hissed. “A very, very dull spoon.”
His dragon found that funny. Ilia did too. Like all dragons, he found violence fetching. This woman would be fun to tussle around with.
As a sister.
Not as a mate.
Ilia had already chosen his mate.
From the corner of his eyes, Ilia noted that the twin sister’s breasts weren’t as full as his mate’s. That was curious that they would have been born with that particular disparity. Luckily, he’d chosen the bountiful twin. The more beautiful twin.
His mate was the Allison of the two. The nerdy girl who was a shadow next to Claire, the popular girl in the great film The Breakfast Club. Bender, the hero of that film, ended up with the popular girl. And if there was a hero, other than the Terminator, then it was Bender. And it was Claire for Bender. So it was the lovelier sister for Ilia.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Last name, You. First name, Fuck.”
Again, a chuckle escaped Ilia’s lips. “We’re going to get along very well, little sister. What’s your name?”
“Are you a crazy person?”
“I’m not a person. I’m a dragon.”
She gulped. Her pale eyes went hazy, as though in remembrance of something unpleasant. She had spent most of her life not knowing that his kind existed. All in one night, she had met at least two dragons.
She must be frightened. He should probably unbind her. Though he didn’t want to let his mate go.
“My name is Ilia. I promise no one will hurt you.”
“Yeah? Kinda hard to believe with the being tied up and held against my will by a… whatever you are.”
She paused then. Looking up at her bound hands. Then back down at him.
“You’re the dragon I saw,” she said. “Aren’t you.”
Ilia nodded.
“Are we dead? Is this hell?”
“No. I already told you, you’re beyond the Veil. You’re safe.”
“I repeat,” she motioned to her hands, “tied up.”
“This is all ritual. It must be done.”
“Ritual for what? Are you going to turn back into a dragon again and eat me?”
Ilia’s blood boiled as the words left her lips. They kept playing in his head on a loop. Are you going to eat me?
His dragon liked the idea. He very much wanted to spend the rest of the evening laying between a woman’s warm thighs and lapping at her flesh. Are you going to eat me?
He gave his head a shake. He wasn’t going to eat that woman. She was going to be his sister. He was going to eat the woman in his arms.
He looked down at his mate. She looked even paler than before. It shouldn’t take her this long to wake up. She felt cool to the touch. Ilia wondered if he should be concerned?
Then her lips parted. “Rose?”
Both Ilia and his dragon stilled at the sound of his mate’s voice. It was lower than he had expected. Low and raspy, as though she consumed a blaze that had scorched her throat.
“Rose? Are you there?”
“I’m here, Lily. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Ilia didn’t spare Rose another glance. But he could tell that she was struggling against the ropes again.
“Hello, Lily,” Ilia said. “My name is Ilia.“
Lily gaped at him. Her pale eyes wide with incomprehension. Her thin lips rounding in a quivering O.
Before Ilia could continue to assure her, a great whoosh crackled against the walls of the underground cavern. Ilia looked up to see his brother Rhoyl descend in a blaze of blue wings and scales.
Lily’s eyes widened impossibly larger, making Ilia worry that she might break a nerve in her head. Beside them, Rose pulled and yanked at the ropes which still bound her.
“That’s my brother. Don’t be frightened.”
Rhoyl came into the light. His scales gleamed. A scream tore through the room. Ilia shouldn’t have worried over the frailness of his mate, not with that set of pipes on her.
No sooner than Lily’s earsplitting cry started did it stop. She fainted in his arms. Eyes closed, mouth slack, and body limp.
Ilia sighed and turned to Rose, who had managed to slip one of her thin wrists out of his ties and was working on another. Since Ilia wouldn’t be able to complete the bonding ritual with his mate incapacitated, he sat Lily down and went over to Rose to began the process of cutting her down.
But the moment he came near her, she cocked her fist back and landed a punch to his nose. It didn’t hurt. Not with her being such a wee thing. Still, it was a jolt. It felt like her love tap knocked something loose inside him.
When he looked at Rose again, it was as though scales had fallen from his eyes. There was a glow to her. One that had the dragon peering out of his eyes to gape at her.
Ilia had found a mate just in time. He was quickly loosening the leash he had on his dragon. Because though his mate lay a few feet away from him on the floor, his incisors were sharpening to take a bite out of her sister.
Chapter Six
Rose was slow to come to wakefulness this time. She dreamed of fire and bondage. Of dark scales and warm flesh. Of sharp teeth and sensual lips. It should’ve been a nightmare, but she was aroused in her sleep. Which meant it had to be a dream.
Rose was no shrinking virgin. One thing she knew for certain was that sex had been invented by men for men. It certainly wasn’t for women.
The romance novels and porn videos lured women in with talk of crashing waves and sounds of enthusiastic moans. If women only read the words closely, they would be horrified at the adjectives describing throbbing parts of the male anatomy coming anywhere near their flowers. If they looked closely at the readily available porn on the internet, they would see women more concerned with their hairstyles and camera placement than the thrusting action going on down below.
Sex was awful. Painful. And entirely one-sided. It was women who had their flesh bruised and torn by a man’s quivering member. Which was why Rose was adamant that she was never doing that again.
Not even in her dreams. She gave a mental shake to douse the fire and loosen the imaginary knots binding her hands. She brushed away the scales and slapped at the flesh. She gnashed her teeth, ready to bite any lips that came near her, even if inside her head.
With that, she was able to fling her eyes open. She expected to be confronted with the creatures from her nightmares; the dragons. Because apparently, dragons were a real thing in the real world. A fact that she would just have to freak out about later. Right now, it was self-preservation. She had to get herself and her sister out of this madness.
With her eyes open, Rose didn’t see any scaly-clawed, sharp-toothed males looking down at her. She was in a room full of women. All red-haired women who looked at her with eager expressions.
“Don’t crowd her, Cardi,” said a woman with vibrant red hair that was braided in a plait that hung over one shoulder. “Give her some space to breathe.”
“She’s breathing just fine,” said the woman beside her, who Rose assumed was Cardi.
Cardi’s hair was teased high with curls that didn’t bounce. That amount of non-bouncy curls could only be tamed with a can and a half of hairspray. Rose caught the unmistakable smell of Aqua Net in the air and sneezed. Cardi looked like she was on her way into a mall during the 80s to see a boy band who was opening for Tiffany or Debbie Gibson.
“Hi, I’m Cardi. This is Chryssie, and this is Poppy.”
Poppy, another redhead with springy curls that were relaxed around her heart-shaped face, stood behind the other two redheads. She gave Rose a shy smile and a little wave.
Rose’s gaze went from one woman to the other. Each woman looked different. But at the same time, they looked like the other.
It was more than their hair color. Redheads weren’t rare. However, most had pale skin to accompany their hair. These three women had tan to caramel skin like Rose and her sister.
Well, like Rose and Lily’s skin had been when they were well-nourished. During the days when they booked enough modeling gigs that they could afford their medication to keep their bellies full. These days, with their stomachs rejecting anything that came down their throats, both of their skin looked as paper-white as it felt paper-thin.
“Which one are you?” asked Cardi. “Rose or Lily?”
Rose looked beside her to see Lily coming awake on the same plush couch that she sat on. Rose grabbed her sister by the shoulders.
“Lil? You okay?” Rose asked as she ran her hands up and down her sister’s body. She expected to feel the persistent slight chill on her sister’s skin that came from malnourishment. It was one of the body’s defense mechanisms against their disease. When there wasn’t enough sustenance, it slowed all processes down to conserve energy.
Lily’s skin was warm. There was also color to her cheeks that hadn’t been there in months, maybe a whole year. Lily looked well, healthy. As if she’d gotten in a full meal and held it down.
“Oh, Rose,” Lily sighed. “I had the worst nightmare. You wouldn’t even believe it.”
“It’s not a nightmare, Lils. It’s real.”
Rose didn’t need to look at her twin to see the realization and horror darken her eyes. She felt it in the stiffening of Lily’s posture as they both turned to face the women. Rose was on high alert, trying to determine if these three were friend or foe. It wouldn’t be the first time men sent out members of the fairer sex to do their dirty work.
“Hi-eee, Lily,” said Cardi. “It’s so totally radical to meet you.”
Not only was the woman an 80’s fashion reject, she was also a connoisseur of the slang. Now Rose’s ears hurt as much as her eyes.
Rose’s eyes only counted two women. Where was the third? The redhead with the soft curls around her face.
Rose spotted Poppy across the room. She was putting items on a plate and then one directly in her mouth. The smell of the food reached Rose from her place on the couch, and her mouth watered.
“You notice how they have flower names, just like us?” said Chryssie. “My full name is Chrysanthemum. I guess all our mothers got the memo.”
“What is she talking about?” Lily said to Rose. “I want to get out of here.”
Rose heard the fear in her sister’s voice. But that wasn�
�t the sense that was heightened at the moment. It was her sense of smell. Was that chocolate she smelled?
Rose had never hungered for chocolate in her entire life. The treat had very little nourishment, so she would never waste the precious space in her stomach for something with so little nutrition. But the scent of the chocolate lifted her head. Just like in cartoons where the scent-waves lifted a character up by the nostrils and made them float toward the plate.
“You guys actually are home,” said Cardi, coming to sit on the edge of the couch. The tulle of her skort spilled glitter onto Rose’s leg. “This is where you come from. Well, where your ancestor came from; way, way back in the sixties.”
“It was the seventies, Cardi,” said Chryssie.
“That’s still a long, long time ago.” Cardi waved her comment away with a flourish of what had to be Lee Press-On Nails. “Anywho, she shacked up with a dragon—“
“The rumor is she had sex with two dragon brothers,” said Chryssie.
“Then she went back across the Veil and had a half-dragon, half-human baby who was our ancestor.”
Rose listened to this story. Her head swinging back and forth from Chryssie to Cardi as they volleyed this tall tale. Finally, her gaze came to rest on Poppy, who had a dollop of rich, dark chocolate on her thumb.
“It’s true,” said Poppy, after licking away the ooey-gooey dessert. “We’re all the descendants of dragons. That’s why I would break out in spots on the other side.”
“I had an abundance of helium in my blood,” said Chryssie. “It gave me constant fatigue, cold intolerance, and shortness of breath.”
“They thought I had cancer,” said Cardi. “It all cleared up when we came on this side of the Veil because we weren’t meant to live in the human world. What’s wrong with the two of you?”
“Cardi,” hissed Chryssie. “That’s rude.”
“What?” shrugged Cardi. “We’re family. And whatever they were sick with before doesn’t matter anymore.”
