Wyvern’s Gold (The Ruins Of Men Book 1)

Chapter 53

Fifty-Three

Ayla

A fter the seamstress left, Zasen told me I could finish whatever he'd interrupted. I'd been cleaning. It seemed that aboveground, there was a lot more dust to settle than we'd had to deal with in the compound. Not only that, but as I wiped it away, I was learning where things were kept and memorizing my way around the house I lived in.

I hadn't wanted to pry, but when Zasen headed out to the backyard, I may have snooped a bit more. Nothing impolite. I was simply curious. Besides, the living room and kitchen were public areas. That meant the things in them shouldn't be too personal.

But before I'd finished, Zasen stuck his head through the back door and called for me. "Ayla, put on a dress that isn't too loose and let's see what you think of this?"

I looked down at what I was wearing and decided it would do. I still didn't have shoes, but the woman today had measured my feet for them. So, I headed that way, stepping outside to find nothing but soft grass under my feet.

And Zasen had set up a training area in the small, flat area between his house and the steep hill behind it. This was like the targets he'd put up for Tamin, but more. Some were made of wood. Others looked like stacked grass or something. Of course, he'd hung the cloth things called "bullseyes" as well.

Then there was the collection of weapons. I was surprised to see he not only had Tamin's small crossbow, but also a selection of other weapons. Among those were throwing knives and the handheld kind. He'd even laid out three of the curved blades Dragons liked so much. The ones they called krael.

"Okay," he said, gesturing to the display. "Today, we're going to see which weapons you like best. Think of this as letting your body pick your fighting style."

"Okay," I agreed.

"And when we know what works best for you, we'll focus on those," he said. "So, let me explain all of this to you."

He started out easy, going over the purpose and restrictions of every weapon. For each kind, he explained its strengths and weaknesses. Then he talked about the variations that would make a weapon more suited to a person or harder for them to use.

Information was the one thing I excelled at. Everything he said, I soaked up, trying to memorize all of it. And when that part was done, he started me off with a very small bow. The normal kind. Not with arrows, though.

I had to learn how to hold it, how to draw back the string, and how to aim. He took time to correct my stance. Repeatedly, he adjusted my arms, reminding me the string could strike my skin and leave impressive bruises.

And when I got it right, he pointed to the longer arrows on the table. After showing me how to "nock" one onto the string, I was then allowed to fire at the hanging cloth bullseyes. Then, I had to do it again. Over and over and over, he made me fire the bow, until I could put the arrow through the cloth.

Somehow, I learned to shoot well enough to hit the fabric, but not well enough to hit any of the rings he'd marked in the center. The arrow just wouldn't go quite where I wanted! Zasen seemed pleased, though. When he wrapped his arms around me to adjust my aim, I felt myself tense up, but pushed through it.

Touching was okay. Kanik had said so this morning. It didn't need to be improper. Still, it felt weird. It made my body do strange things, and I wasn't sure how to handle it. I wasn't sure if I even liked the sensations.

All my life, having a man this close had been terrifying, but with Zasen or Kanik, it made my mind bounce around instead.

But I said nothing.

I could still remember how Kanik had explained his pain when I'd jerked back. He'd said he was hurt, even though he wasn't wounded. He meant his feelings, so I shouldn't do that again. I didn't want my fears to cause pain for my friends. Especially not if Zasen was just trying to teach me how to use a weapon. This was something I would definitely need to know if I wanted to stop the Moles.

Yet I was distracted. It wasn't only his breath on my neck, but the heat of his entire body. I could feel him from the base of my skull all the way down to my ankles. He was so close, but nothing about this felt like he was going to hurt me.

It felt nice in a way that made my pulse pound much too quickly.

It didn't matter that he didn't look like most men. I wanted to press back into him. I longed to turn and see his face, wondering what expression was there. My lips wanted to curl into a smile, and the urge to giggle kept happening for no reason. I pushed it down every time, yet for the first time in my life, I finally understood those foolish romance books I'd read in the compound.

But those were fantasy. It wasn't how people really were, and Gideon had proven that. Pushing those stupid desires away, I tried my hardest to aim better and concentrate on the target. Zasen was helping me learn a real skill, something that mattered, and I didn't want him to think I wasn't taking it seriously.

"Tighten through here," he said, dragging his nails down my belly.

I sucked in a breath, partly in shock, and looked back quickly. That had been almost intimate!

"Sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay." Because I was going to get through this.

Yet his eyes softened even as they dropped to my mouth. "Ayla, what's your favorite color?"

I lowered the bow. "What?"

"The one you like most. What is it?"

"I don't know. I've never really thought about it. In the compound, everything was mostly grey. I didn't realize it because I didn't know anything else, but up here?"

He smiled, which made his eyes light up. "A whole new world. You can change your mind, but right now, which one do you like the most?"

I turned back to the target. For a moment, I thought about purple, but a brighter color popped into my mind. He'd said right now. He'd made it clear this didn't have to be my favorite forever.

"Orange."

That made him pause. "Orange? Like a sunset?"

I nodded, aiming down the arrow and pulling my abdominal muscles tight. "Dark, almost reddish."

"Not like Rymar's skin?"

"Like your eyes." I exhaled and released, watching the arrow bury itself just beside the center, but not quite in it. "They were the first bright color I ever saw."

He moved behind me and pressed my arm down, lowering the bow. "I thought you'd believe I was a demon. Black with eyes the color of the fires of Hell, or something. I would've thought orange would be a scary color."

I just shook my head. "You're green, almost blue."

He stepped around me to look me in the face. "Barely."

"And iridescent." I smiled as I reached up to trace the specks of light across his arm. "Like rainbows."

"You've been looking at me a lot?"

I shrugged, worried that might be an accusation. I had been. I'd looked at all of them, and my thoughts weren't always mere observations. Unfortunately, his tone of voice gave me no clue as to whether I'd crossed some line I shouldn't have.

So I simply replied, "You are the Wyvern ."

When I turned back to the target, he stopped me, pulling the bow from my hands. "Take a break or your arms will learn bad habits from being too tired." He set it aside and stepped closer, his eyes never leaving my face. "Half the people in town think my skin is black and nearly white, but you know it's green?"

"I saw that on the first day."

His eyes scanned my face. "Why?"

"Because I'd never seen a Dragon before? Because they warned us about you specifically?" Hopefully, that was the right answer.

"And why aren't you scared of me, Ayla?" His voice had dropped, the sound turning to velvet. "Kanik sometimes makes you shy, and Rymar has made you flinch, but why have you never been scared of me?"

I lifted my face to meet his eyes, aware he was much taller than me. "Should I be?"

He nodded, sliding the back of his thumb across my jaw. "I think so. You can't tell a man your favorite color is the same as his strange eyes and think he won't care."

"But you said you won't hurt me. I don't want to hurt you either."

His eyes closed. "Ayla, remind me you're a Mole. Tell me a lot."

"You said I wasn't one anymore!"

With a snarl, he stepped back, grabbed a throwing knife, and flung it. A litany of snarled words fell from his lips. "I also said I'd take care of you, but you're distracting as hell, okay? Get the arrows, reset the weapons, and then you're doing it again."

I nodded quickly and hurried to the targets to retrieve the arrows and his blade. Behind the table of weapons, Zasen paced, his tail lashing. He looked angry. I quickly thought over what I'd done, and I could only think of two things that could've made him so upset. Dropping the ammunition on the table, I began to sort it back out.

"So I'm still a Mole?"

His answer was clipped. "No."

"Then I shouldn't like the color orange?"

He sighed, his shoulders dropping. "You can like any color you want. Orange is a good one, I think."

"So why are you mad at me?" I turned to face him, keeping my eyes down and clasping my hands before me.

His tail thrashed once more, then stilled. "I'm not." His voice was too calm. It was the type of calm that always came before the storm. "I'm mad at me."

I bobbed my head, trying to show I understood. "I didn't mean to make you mad at you."

With a noise in the back of his throat, he stepped toward me, and I flinched back, bracing for the punishment. I'd made him angry, so I knew what came next - or at least my body did. Zasen immediately froze.

"Ayla." Slowly, he lifted his arm and clasped my bicep. His fingers were soft but prevented me from pulling away. Then he took another half step closer. "I'm not mad at you."

I nervously bobbed my head again. "I know."

"Then why do you wince?"

Cautiously, I raised my eyes to his. "Because I made you angry at yourself."

"Ayla, I assure you that any of those weapons beside you work much better than a fork." He tilted his head at the pile to prove his point. "I may be stronger than you, but I'm not stronger than sharpened steel. I also won't strike you, because you may hit back."

I sucked in a breath, aware of how those words mirrored the ones I'd told Mr. Morgan and Mr. Saunders as I tried to force myself to believe him. "Why are you mad at me, Zasen?"

Slowly, he brushed a strand of hair away from my temple, his orange eyes taking in every nuance of my reaction. "I'm mad at me because I sometimes read too much into your words." His lips curled on one side. "I have a tail and strange, scaled skin, but our minds are no different than yours. I got frustrated because I don't understand you at all, but I want to."

"Why?"

"It's the downside of being a treasure, Ayla. It makes the viewer want to possess it, even if it's dangerous."

I shook my head slightly. "I don't understand."

"Ayla, I'm used to Dragon and Reaper women. I promise you, they are not scared by men. Rather the opposite, in fact. But do you even know what flirtation is?"

I swallowed, not sure I liked where this conversation was going. "The path to disgrace?"

That made him laugh. "Explain disgrace to me."

"Being sullied."

He leaned closer. "Keep going. Use very little words, because Mole customs are new to me."

"It's when a woman lets a man touch her."

He lifted his hand to my face, brushing his knuckles across my hairline. "So are you disgraced now?"

"Not that kind of touch. I mean like what a husband does to his wife. Like kissing."

"Mm." He smiled broadly. "Did you never kiss your mother?"

"No."

"Father?"

I gasped. "No!"

That made him lean back, shock taking over his face. "Really? My mother kissed every wound I ever had to make it better. She would kiss my brow before I fell asleep. My father hugged more than kissed, but he would smother Jeera with them to make her giggle. Is there no affection between Moles? No love for friends and family?"

"No," I whispered.

He took a long breath and blinked a few times as if trying to make his mind comprehend. "Okay. So what happens if you are disgraced?"

"It makes it hard to get a good husband. Women who are disgraced get the worst picks of the available men. If it results in a child, the woman will be…" I trailed off, pressing a hand to my lips. "…given to the Dragons," I finished.

Zasen chuckled and leaned even closer, then quickly pressed his mouth to my forehead. I jerked back, but that only made him laugh more. "Then you are truly disgraced and need not worry about a husband you don't want anyway. Although, the touch of my lips will not cause children."

"I know," I mumbled, stunned.

His orange eyes dropped to mine. "Do you? How ignorant do they keep you down there, Ayla? You're a very smart girl, but you seem to think caring about people is a bad thing."

"We should love all God's children."

He stepped closer. "So you should love me?" His body hovered beside my shoulder, much too close to be proper. "Or do I not count?"

"Zasen," I begged, confused. Was I supposed to stand here, like this, with him so close, or was I expected to step away? I chose to move, as decades of lectures swayed my decision.

He grabbed my arm again, holding me in place, gently. "Do I count as a man, Ayla?"

"Yes."

He guided me a bit closer until I was almost pressed up against him. "Then there's nothing wrong with loving me?"

My mouth had gone dry. "Not if you were my husband."

"So you should only love those of God's children who you married?"

"No!"

His fingers relaxed slightly. "What does it mean, Ayla? What do those words actually mean?"

I shook my head, holding my arms pressed between us. I heard all of his words, but his questions turned the rules I knew into a jumbled mess in my mind. I wanted to answer correctly, but the harder I thought about it, the more confused I became.

"I don't know!" I whimpered.

He released me. "I know. Think about it, Ayla. Think hard. Consider that what they taught you is wrong."

While I stood there, trembling, he gently ran his hand over my hair.

"I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you like that. Now go get your bow and let's make sure you know how to keep anyone else from ever hurting you again, okay?"