Not that seeing them here meant anything but more chaos for me.
Still, I watch in fascination as the front dragons spewed up great gouts of flame, sweeping over the wolf shifters, who howl and scream their rage. I see several dragons swoop over the streets as though searching for something, and then watching as they scooped up women who were exposed.
Of course. Shifters hardly ever chose any other reason to raid. With the scarcity of women in their clans, and the fact that women couldn't produce females when mated with a shifter, it always left them desperate. I twist my lips in a bitter curl.
One dragon soared towards the section of village where I am, and I lock gazes with his eyes for a moment, as he observes me pressed up again the glass. A huge, fearsome red beast, with scales dipped in the color of blood.
It takes me precisely one second to raise up my elbow and smash it against the window, until the glass shatters.
The dragon's eyes seem to widen, and he actually stops and hovers just outside the house as I force the gap, grab the blanket from the bed and squeeze myself through.
My heart's racing a thousand beats a minute as I let the dragon tenderly scoop me up in his talons, and I wrap myself up in the sheets, even though I already feel the cold slicing deep. The dragon flaps away with me, away from the carnage unfolding below. The wolves are fighting for their lives now, but as powerful as they might be, they simply can't compare to a fire breathing monstrosity with scales that can deflect bullets.
Might be nice to have a change of scenery, I think, rather hysterically. I'm not kidding myself that the dragon won't want me for the same purpose as Kallen.
But as it is, I saw little chance of my situation ever changing in the wolf village, with Kallen and his ways, and the wolves around.
Perhaps, with a new captor, I might have new opportunities. To escape. To kill. To find my way home again.
Chapter Two
I wish for a moment I might have seen Kallen burn to death. It's the least he deserves after everything he's put me and the others through. The lives he has shattered.
Hatred pulses within when I think of him and the other wolf shifters. Shifters in general. They're not making it into my good books, and I'm already wondering what to do, even as I'm carried in the dragon's claws, with a blanket that does an inadequate job of keeping the cold away. Still, by the time we touchdown possibly an hour or so later, I'm freezing, but not dying.
My suspicions are correct. I believe I'm in Balteria, the dragon kingdom, namely because the wealth bottled up in this place is noticeable. Instead of drab stone and barely constructed huts, there's masterfully crafted abodes, ranging from little cottages to mansions, with the biggest building of all, the Palace of Eyes – looming over everything else.
The Palace of Eyes looks as though it's cupped within the open wound of a mountain, protruding out of the tip of what might be a dormant volcano. Buildings are carved into the rock face, and snow-dirt tracks exist to connect the place together.
There's no obvious way out, much to my disappointment. You need to be a flier to reach these places, which also explains why no one on foot has been able to assault the dragon clans as of yet.
The dragon allows me to clamber onto his back, rather than walk behind him on bare feet, and he ambles towards the Palace of Eyes, which seizes my attention.
High ranking dragon? Or what? I keep my attention peeled for any information that can help me out. I see women in fur robes on the streets. They pause to give the red dragon I'm riding on a wave, and he lifts a wing to them in response.
Already it's so vastly different. In the wolf village you didn't see any women on the streets. They got confined just as I did, not allowed to breathe in the fresh air, unless the wolf with them was merciful, or as kind as you likely found a shifter to be.
The women here seem to have more freedom, and they're out on the streets, talking to one another, even trading at the markets.
I wonder if it's to do with the fact that the dragons are supremely confident that no one can get away from them. It's possible, and I store that information in my head reluctantly, though I know I have to keep watching. I'll find my opportunity, one way or another.
Straddled on the back of the red dragon, I briefly admire the blood red scales, which actually flush in tone from red to almost black at their root attachment. I dig my finger underneath one scale with difficulty, and it flakes off, revealing a newer one beneath. I grab the flake, which is shaped like a guitar pick, wondering how such a flimsy looking object could be capable of reflecting bullets. The dragon also appears to not notice me loosening the scales upon his body. Men and women are now waving at the red dragon, and any shifters utilizing their full dragon forms are scraping and bowing.
Somehow, I think the person underneath me is important. Probably a noble, part of the higher blood of this clan. It's a big territory, with thousands of houses and streets and castles, though the Palace of Eyes looms over everything else. Instead of the gray stone or black and white shadings of the houses along the mountains, I see the palace shrouded in silver and green, with buttresses and sloping dome roofs, possibly to make it awkward for dragons to lie on.
By the time we've made it through the palace gates and into the palace, I'm fairly certain that I'm sitting on someone important, though I try not to get my expectations up. Better to be pleasantly surprised than bitterly disappointed, though to be fair, my life for the last five years has been nothing more than bitter disappointment.
I doubt my mother and father would recognize me if I came back to them. I can't imagine I'll have any other friends still longing for good old Ria to return, and if they did have any candles lit up in school, it's been five years, and everyone I knew would have graduated and started getting on with their college or other lives. Forging careers.
Whilst my mind has effectively rotted, forgetting equations and most of the lessons embarked in it, I've become somewhat of a sexpert.
You see, I spent long, lonely hours locked up in that room discovering what I needed and what I didn't. What reactions thrilled Kallen and which ones didn't. When you don't have any other kind of stimulants, no phone or computer to tap away at, no books to read or toys to play with, there's other things to do to alleviate the boredom.
I honestly think though that if I didn't have a window, with the option to break at any point, I probably would have gone the same route as Lily.
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the rocking motion of the dragon underneath me. I wonder what kind of master he'll be, or if he plans to trade me up. I wonder if my life will be better or infinitely worse.
As long as he doesn't have too many skeletons in his closet, I should be okay. Shifters do consider it a waste to kill women – unless they're sadistic bastards like Kallen.
The palace entrance is wide open, and there's two dragon guards positioned on either side. They give grunting, snuffling noises at the red dragon as he ambles past, and I casually work at flaking more of his scales off. I manage to prise about two more off before he stops in front of a door too small for a dragon, and rears up slightly, so I get the hint and start scrambling off.
When I do, he morphs at last into his human form. I hold my breath, hoping that he's handsome.
Not that being handsome makes much of a difference in hating someone or not, but I'll take what I can get in this situation. Wintery blue eyes glint out of his face, so brilliant and noticeable, that it captivates all attention. I've never seen a shade of blue like this. They're so light, they could be chips of ice, and I'd swear at this point they glowed in the dark. It gives him a dangerous look to a rugged face, one with jet black hair finely crafted around distinctive, wide cheeks, which slope down into an oval face.
He has a distant, imperious expression to a softly noble face, and hooded eyelids which give him a perpetually sleepy slant to those crystals. My breath catches in my throat, even as I go past the short black curls of his hair to the high collar line of an expensi
ve suit, a deep brown in shade.
Jesus Christ, this dragon in human form is stunning. My heart's in slight turmoil, though I'm fairly sure that from the moment he speaks, I'll slip into ceaseless hatred. Something to jerk me away from those gorgeous eyes and cheeks, which I'm tempted to touch, just to make sure that they're real.
“I'm Kostya Mirova.”
Mirova. That's the royal family name in Balteria. I'm most certainly in Balteria, and this is a prince. A damn handsome prince.
“I'm Ria Stevenson.” I hesitate a moment. “Though for a long time, I've been referred to as Meat.” You're my bag of meat. My bones to chew. Kallen's words still linger.
“Ria,” the dragon says softly, tasting the name. He raises one eyebrow. “When I saw you behind the window, you looked at me with such determination. You're no damsel in distress. It's powerful.” He now starts to prowl around me, inspecting me in a more efficient manner. “Though there's a hardness to your face. A darkness. You were not treated well, were you?”
“No,” I say, licking my lips nervously. “Not at all. But I imagine it's a general shifter thing.”
He pauses at the vehemence in my statement. “Not all shifters are so twisted. I cannot deny we take. It's a necessity for us. We can't produce women, and it's impossible to reach our home by conventional means. But we don't abuse them. Or if we do, it's considered a crime. You are the bearers of children, the softness to our hardness.” Now I feel his hand brush my dark hair, and I shiver against my will. “And you deserve more than scraps, and to be locked up in a room without reprieve.”
His words stir hope in me, despite my determination to not be moved. However, I remain as impassive as I can on the outside.
“I doubt you just picked me out of a sense of generosity, though.”
He smiles then, a slow, calm one. “I see experience in your eyes. You'll find out soon enough what I plan to use that experience for.”
There's an ominous implication behind his words. I simply nod, knowing that if I want to keep my opportunity for escape open, it might be easier if I can appeal to my captor in some form. He keeps those smoldering eyes on mine for a lingering moment, before asking me to follow him. I do, though I wonder what I'm letting myself into. What I've swapped one cage for. The prince remains rather quiet as we walk along an opulent corridor, with picture frames depicting mighty dragons roaring or breathing fire, and a red carpet sprawled below, the same shade as his scales in dragon form. My bare feet enjoy the texture of the rug, and everything appears to be lit by electricity, though I wonder where they get the source from.
“You'll be allowed the run of the place,” Kostya says then, indicating the entire palace. A women bows to him as he passes. She's in servant robes, but I don't catch any strain in her expression. It reminds me a little of the types of servants you'd get in Downton Abbey, the ones who are unspeakably proud of their positions, and of the lords they serve. It seems the dragons here of Balteria hold themselves to a very different standard than the savages of the mountains. The wolf clans like those who captured me or the lonely misers who get away with despicable acts, knowing that no one will find their bodies in the wilderness.
“There's actually two sets of royal families here,” Kostya then says, though I've not asked for any information on the subject. “Both of them huge, and both with claims to the throne. There's about four princes on each side. I'm only third in line to the throne, so it allows me some freedoms to pursue... other interests. Though I must be careful to not lose face in front of the other royal family. They like to sniff for weakness, you see.”
He stops at a door, takes a key out of his pocket, turning it in the lock. For a moment, I stare, realizing something interesting. The dragons take their clothes with them when they shapeshift. So it's more than just a transformation of their bodies. It's something magical. Something that allows them to carry additional materials along for the ride.
Inside his rooms, I'm surprised at what I see. I expected something big and grand, but instead, I'm presented with something simple but clean. A main room, with two huge dark brown leather sofas. A table that's scattered with board games, most which I've never heard of, aside from Monopoly. What's impressive is the mini golf course he's got completely covering one side of the huge room, with the eighteen different goals all spread along the room. He could have had anything in this place, and instead, he chooses a mini golf course. I admire the decorative slant of the goals, from sloped and bumpy tracks to fake mountains and twisting bends to make scoring that much harder, and then I follow the prince through to the bathroom, which is a fully integrated shower that's large enough for about six people to squeeze in.
I gape at the monster shower and spa like design of the room. There's a small jacuzzi pool, and as I sniff the air, getting that distinctive heated water smell, I can tell the water is warm. There's even a small sauna room to the right of the spa, with a soft light glowing, and a brazier full of coals, and an empty bucket. The room itself is rather small, and could only fit I think four people in, all of them lying on the two levels, on either side of the corner.
I can't help it. I'm thoroughly impressed, and I'm hoping right now that I'll be able to use this shit.
I have noticed there's no T.V, no computer, no kind of electrical device that I could possibly use to try and contact home, but I suspected as much when I first came here, anyway. Shifters aren't fans of technology. Or, at least, technology in reach of the women they abduct, since it's too easy to communicate with people all across the world.
“You will clean yourself up here,” Kostya says, his voice quiet but full of authority. “And you will have free access to come here as much as you want. I'll also arrange for clothes for you, so you can go outside and explore the markets. Needless to say, you'll have a bad time if you try to escape, since it's physically impossible for a human to descend.”
“Noted,” I say wryly, though I'm glad of the opportunity for freedom. To walk around, and to use the facilities to my pleasure. Next to the spa room is a small room with a sink and toilet, and beyond that, interconnected to this, is three separate bed chambers. He shows me to mine first.
“It's simple, but I imagine it's better than your previous living arrangements,” Kostya said, his lips curling up again in that sardonic smile of his. In my room, there's a wardrobe and dressing table with a mirror, a study desk with paper and pen, a sink, which I think is interesting, and a ordinary double bed with white sheets.
It's still far, far better than my previous home. So he has that right.
“I'll show you my room,” he says, “but only after you've cleaned yourself up and had something to eat and drink.”
No sooner than he mentions food than my stomach reminds me that it's hungry with a growl.
He appears to not notice the sound. “I'll have a servant take your measurements, and another to bring you food. Towels are in the cupboard here. And please, enjoy.”
I smile briefly at Kostya, probably the first I've given in a long while. A genuine one, I mean. Not a cruel one.
I'm already eyeing the spa, though I know I should wash myself first before dipping into it. Kostya leaves me, closing the doors, and I grab a towel and divebomb the shower, wanting to experience my first true wash in five years, and not from a wet rag in a sink. I peel off my clothes, step into the walk-in shower, close the sliding doors and wait for the water to turn hot before I allow it to drench over me. It's such a glorious feeling that I close my eyes and sigh, the powerful stream of water pushing away all the dirt. There isn't any shampoo, but there's a bar of soap that has a layer of dust on it, so I use that instead, rinsing off the dust and just rubbing the bar all along my body. Examining myself, I see the hair that's accumulated in my nether regions, legs and armpits. It's already getting long, and I think to ask the servants when they come in if I can have a razor, because it would be nice to feel smooth skin under my hands again.
Kallen really didn't give a shit about his women pampering
themselves. He only wanted them for what was between their legs and the screams they made. However, I reached a fond spot in his black heart, because I resisted and pushed back.
I wonder if he's dead, now. And what happened to that poor girl strapped to his back.
Maybe she was another school trip like me, or someone who lived in the country, before her theft. Maybe she was just walking home after a long day, and got scooped up by human traffickers. A brief stab of rage emanates through me. Humans take part in the trafficking just as actively as shifters. They do it all for a quick buck, desensitized to the suffering inflicted under their hands.
I really can't just pin everything on shifters. We have kidnappers, rapists and serial killers. We manage to produce beasts in our societies. We're the kind of people who would go into someone's country in war, slaughter them, and still think we're righteous and good for killing other people. No one seems to think they're guilty. Not even the murderers, who give themselves flimsy justifications to do what they do.
The anger boils in my heart as the water washes away the dirt. I used to ignore those kind of things. Those sufferings. Now I always feel like I'm fixated on nothing but the worst, seeing all the filth that's spat up in front of me, when all I really want is to go back to who I was and remember that I thought a lot of goodness could be found in the world.
But I can't. I have the darkness inside me now, and she's not going away. She's my protector, but she's also damming me. It's an odd conflict. If God did exist, I'm not going to those pearly gates. Not after what I've thought and done. Not after what I've accepted into my soul. There's nothing but a blizzard here now, and a shadow that taints all of my thoughts. I can't rewind the clock, no matter how badly I might wish it.
It doesn't mean I've given up on the idea of returning home, though. For now, I focus on the best thing that's happened to me in ages. I end the shower when it becomes difficult to breathe, due to the steam build up inside the unit, and when I step out, blinking, my hair wet, I see two servants waiting outside for me. Both are women, and both are rather unbothered by my appearance.
Bad, Very Bad Shifters- The Complete Mega Bundle Page 48
