The Dragon's Slave

Chapter 22

I stilled, careful not to press against the metal, or irritate whomever held it. I should have known that entrance was too easy.

The apartment was dim, the remains of a fire glowed within the hearth, but the orange coals did little to light the room, they only highlighted the edge of a lonely stool. I could make out the rest of the furniture if I squinted. A table tossed upon it's side and the untouched bed against the far wall.

I had yet to see any of the other apartments, but I noticed quickly how much less inviting this room was than my own.

My attacker shifted, despite my position my body refused to build the fear it should. There was something familiar, comforting near me. A hint of rain in the air. Dynarys.

"Dynarys, please, it's me," I whispered.

He did not react, or at least he did not drop the blade. Behind me he stiffened.

"And who do we have? A slave...or a traitor?" He growled bitterly.

"I am neither."

Dynarys snorted.

"I swear on my freedom Dynarys--" I began.

The blade stopped me from saying more. It moved from my throat downward, to my chest, and pressed there. Not so hard it would hurt.

I should have been scared. I was nervous, most reasonably, but not scared. Everything I was told me that Dynarys would not hurt me.

"Mother thinks I should kill you," he continued. The end of his words slurred a little, as if...

"Have you been drinking Dynarys?" He didn't smell like drink, but he certainly wasn't himself.

Dynarys ignored me, trailing the dagger—for I decided that's what it was, even though I could not see it—toward my chest.

"My dragon does not wish to kill you," Dynarys admitted. "He want's to fuck you."

Definitely been drinking. Would it do any good to give him the message now?

"He has always wanted to fuck you. Since the moment you met my eyes defiantly at the choosing house," the blade trailed its way along my cleavage, and beneath the bodice of the brown dress.

The feel of the cool blade, coupled with his harsh, but passionate words picked up my desire and spun it into a frenzy. It was stupid to enjoy such an interaction, one laced with danger. But try as I might to convince myself that I desired it not, my body would have none of it. My center burned with his admission, and not even a touch of fear would enter into my emotions. I knew he would never hurt me.

A puff of breath stirred the hairs at the back of my neck, his head tilted against mine and he inhaled deeply, groaning and pressing himself against my back.

"What is it you consider in him Gay? Whatever it is I promise I will give you more. What do you long for in a mate?" His words came out jumbled and quickly, laced with a desperation I had yet to sense in him.

I had hurt him. He would never show such a thing, and had he kept his senses about him and kept the drink from him I might never know. But I did now, and it touched me. Somehow he believed the accusations, that I would actively choose another. And despite his obvious appeal he feared I did not desire him.

I turned, careful not to rub against the blade, until we were face to face, my chest against his own.

"I do not consider him at all Dynarys. Remember I am supposed to be earning my freedom? Grim caught me off guard and I could only think to pretend that his offer interested me to distract him from Scet.