Redeeming the Dragon (Into the Enchanted)

Chapter 16

“ I will never harm you.” The words came at me swiftly through the gloom.

“Too late,” I responded softly. Sadly. “You already have.”

“Lorna…”

“No.” I jumped off the bed, removing myself from close proximity. “I told you. You terrified my family and my friends. You stole me from my home. You’ve locked me away in a sunless cave. You’ve ruined my reputation by sharing my bed at night. That is harm, Dragon. Whether you intended it or not.”

His golden stare was fixed on me. I could see nothing of him, apart from his golden eyes that gazed, unblinking, upon me.

“Had there been any other way, I would have taken it,” he avowed quietly. “For all this, I will never harm you. Nor will I permit anyone else to hurt you.”

Pursing my lips, I shook my head, allowing myself a moment to breathe out and seek calm.

“You do not hear your own words, Dragon. ”

“I do,” he argued. “They sound empty, and yet I ask you to trust me. Trust me awhile longer.”

“Trust?” I laughed harshly, folding my arms over my chest. “Trust is hard to come by when I am locked away in a prison of stone. When I see and speak to no one, except a strange creature who comes, unbidden, to my bed at night. This is a fool’s way of earning trust.”

“I know.” Silence a moment. Then, “I know.”

If he had argued with me, become angry or protested, it would have been easier to maintain my anger. As it was, after another span of silence, I relented, lowering my arms with a sigh.

“I suppose nothing will be solved tonight, will it?” I asked. “I think it best that you go, though. I would rather sleep alone.”

“I cannot leave you,” he answered swiftly.

“Cannot or will not?” I breathed a harsh laugh. “I am trying to be kind, Dragon. Despite what you’ve done, I am trying to be kind. I am asking you respectfully to leave.”

“And I am answering, respectfully, that I cannot.”

“You did the night before,” I pointed out.

“The night before, I slept outside your door,” he rejoined. “You were simply unaware.”

“You are the most stubborn, confounded—I-I do not know whether to call you a beast or a man,” I exploded. I wanted to stamp my foot or punch the wall. Anything to vent my frustration. “Why? Why can you not leave me? Tell me that. Because I do not believe it’s that you can’t. It’s that you won’t.”

“Won’t and can’t are often the same,” he answered gravely.

I heard the swishing of blankets and sheets being moved. The mattress creaked softly as he stood .

“I will make you an offer, though,” he said. “If you wish to use the bed, I will sit in the corner, by the doorway. You may have your bed for this night. It is half-spent anyway.”

“What does being half-spent have to do with anything?” I demanded.

When silence met my inquiry, I laughed harshly. “Let me guess—you cannot tell me that, either?”

“I am sorry,” was all he would say.

“Sorry. You are sorry.” I stormed past him, practically flinging myself on the mattress, spreading out my arms and legs so he had no room to lie down, should he change his mind. “Are you sorry you stole me from my home? Sorry you are forcing a life of loneliness upon me? Sorry you took me from sunshine and sea to a tomb of rock?”

When I heard him utter a syllable as if in response, I cut him off.

“Never mind. I’ve no wish to hear it. Good night, Dragon. Even if the night is half-spent.”

Closing my eyes, I pretended not to hear his motions as he padded across the stone floor toward the thick curtain that served as my door. As I heard him drop to the floor, I pretended that I thought nothing of him sitting on the cold, hard stone with no blankets, no cushions, no pillows. I pretended I did not hear his quiet sigh, released into the shadows that filled the air between us. And I pretended I did not know he believed I was his mate—a strange idea, that. Even stranger that he believed his method of gaining my attention was the right way to go about impressing one’s mate!

He said nothing else, and the world fell silent. Despite my efforts not to think about him and not to care…I did. Part of me felt guilty, compelling him to sit alone on the floor. The other part of me thought, He deserves this. For all that he did to me, to my family, he deserves this. I feel no pity for him.

That was a lie.

I did.

I did feel pity for him.

Just…not enough to invite him to join me in my bed. After all, I’d wanted a night away from him, and that was what I got.

The following morning, I awoke when the artificial light brightened the room. I sat up, instantly seeking the doorway where my dragon captor had spent the night. Of course, he was gone. I felt vexed. Why could he not sleep in, just this once? I wanted to see what he looked like. I’d seen his dragon form, and it was terrifying and mystifying. However, I’d not seen his human shape, and the magic of the cave seemed determined to prevent me from doing so.

What sort of creature claimed me as his mate but only visited my bed under cover of darkness? What sort of creature claimed he was compelled to stay with me during the night? What did he fear? What could a dragon possibly fear?

“Oh, I’ll never get answers,” I groaned, raking my tangled hair out of my face. “I’ll probably die alone entombed in a cave where no one knows my location and nobody except my family will remember I exist.”

As I climbed from the bed, shuffling towards the washroom, my gaze fell on a bit of blue. Shimmering, bright, and shiny—a beacon of hope against the sterile grey walls of my prison.

The dress.

My plan.

Yesterday, I’d been content to take the matter slowly, playing the long game.

This morning?

A certain nervousness dogged my steps as I continued into the washroom to clean up and change into fresh clothing.

What did a dragon fear? What did he fear so much that he felt he couldn’t leave me alone, even in the bowels of the earth, in an enchanted cave? I didn’t know, and the thorniness of the problem dogged my footsteps I spent the morning wandering the halls for exercise.