Wregen #2
“That’s my question.” The voice that drifts down toward me is half laugh, half demand, and it pisses me right off. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
I scowl at the bastard who thinks he can order me around and force myself to my feet, spending energy I can’t spare to suppress the wince I won’t let this stranger see. Quirking an eyebrow, I give him my silence.
“I asked where the fuck you came from,” he growls, throwing his shoulders back as he glares at me from atop his beast.
“I do not answer to you,” I tell him in the low voice that stirs trembles in the most hardened wraiths in Helheim.
“This dragon disagrees,” the male responds, not a note of uncertainty in his tone.
And then the beast he’s riding takes a single step forward. I can’t do shit as his enormous claws reach for me, because the fucker on his back has apparently decided to end this conversation before it even starts.
For a moment, I’m suspended in time, Wrath coming to life to thrash at his chains, the need to spear out to Finaan—see her again before we’re crushed beneath a gods-damned dragon paw—almost forcing me to my knees. We’ve never needed anything so badly.
Instead, the beast’s claws wrap around me, dragging me a man’s-height away from the tree and shoving me to my knees as he creates a cage to trap me.
A breath gusts from my chest, and fuck me if a laugh doesn’t follow it.
That’s twice, I realize as my ears fill with the sound of rushing blood. Something’s wrong with me. I do not laugh.
I watch as the male stretches out a leg and climbs down, never dragging his gaze away. He’s darker than me but at this point, everyone’s darker than me.
Well, darker than I usually am. I’m a very dark red at the moment.
With a muscular build and brown skin, eyes, and hair, he reminds me of the wraiths who claim to have lived near Midgard’s center, where the sun and moon share the sky almost equally.
Even in Helheim, the tawny hue never left them, making them appear more alive than those who spent less time in the light.
He’s glaring at me through narrowed eyes, brows drawn together and lips set into a thin line.
But his stride is casual, as if this is all an act.
“He’ll squash you without a second thought,” the male murmurs. “He’s a vicious beast and enjoys the taste of elf more than I’d like.”
“You have so little control over your dragon,” I observe with a smirk that I hope angers him as much as he’s angered me. “Mine would obey such commands.”
And then I reach for my power, ready to wield his hubris as my weapon. Nothing happens. Digging into my gut, I find the spark that first lit within me when I was a lad too young to understand it, but it’s a speck of fire in a hurricane, sputtering in the wind and rain of this unknown world.
My teeth grind together, a wave of frustration flinging along my spine to settle in my jaw as I glare at the lucky bastard. He may live to see another day, but I’ll kill him once I figure out what sorcery has taken control of me.
“Spoken like an elf who’s never ridden a dragon,” he says with a smirk that’s even more snide than mine, dragging my attention away from my broken magic.
“I can tell already you’re the type of male the dragons would sooner kill than suffer on their backs.
” He spins his head, smiling at the creature who’s now starting to spit flames in my direction.
“What should we do with him, Z?” the prick asks after a moment.
They’re both silent for a long time and again, vague memories bubble into my thoughts.
I shove Wrath even further into his hole while I focus on fanning the flame at my core.
I need my magic, not him. If I let his rage consume me, we’ll be ashes on the ground.
And then I’ll never touch Finaan’s skin again.
Never feel her shiver under my embrace.
Hear her moan as I taste her.
Watch her come undone on my tongue or fingers or cock.
They’re arguing, I realize as I drag my thoughts away from Finaan’s cunt, focusing on the assholes in front of me.
The male shakes his head occasionally, the corners of his lips dropping down for a moment or two, while little bursts of flame slip through the dragon’s teeth, almost for emphasis.
Twice, the male turns to glare at me, flinging one hand in my direction as the other slaps at his thigh.
But then he calms down, dipping his chin once and spinning to look at me with eyes nearly as dark as mine have become over the centuries.
“I’ll blindfold you and we’ll take you with us,” he growls. “You’d be dead if it were up to me, but Z’s got a softer heart than I do. He thinks you could be useful.”
“You will not,” I tell him, throwing steel into my voice. “I will leave here without you.” I grasp for my magic, willing it to give me something, anything, but it’s useless. I need time I don’t have to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me.
The bastard smirks again and steps back as the dragon’s claws squeeze and lift me from the ground, suspending me eye to eye with him. “You have no power here,” he claims, rousing Wrath from his silence with a deep, furious growl.
My insides rattle as the monster inside pushes at me, fighting to get out. And once again, bugs start crawling through my veins, Wrath’s rage seeping out to spread through my beating heart and every other part of me.
I shove him down again, gritting my teeth as the male pulls a long cloth from a pack hanging on his waist and steps closer.
Flinging my head back, I stare at him, throwing all the anger and hate Hel instilled in me over the centuries into my dark eyes.
He laughs, shaking his head as he grabs my hair with one hand, lifts my head, and wraps the cloth around my eyes before I can wrest myself free.
So I spit at him, the ghoul. I don’t know where it landed, but his “Ewww, fuck you,” as he ties the cloth tells me I hit something.
Next time, I’ll shove his cock in his mouth—in pieces, after I slice it off, bit by bit.
He’s quiet for a moment, then lands a damp palm on my cheek, slapping me twice. “Enjoy the flight,” he chuckles, sending Wrath and his vermin into even more of a frenzy.
Lifting my shoulder, I wipe the slobber off my face as I twist to try to break free before it’s too late. The dragon tightens his grip, claws pushing in on my sides as he compresses my cage.
Within a few seconds, the rush of air from his wings wraps around me and he’s lifting us from the ground.
I consider shoving harder as his focus shifts, but we’re probably a dragon’s-length or more above-ground by now.
Even if I could get out and he didn’t catch me, the drop would cause more damage than I’m willing to suffer with my body so weak.
By the time we’ve leveled out, the dryness in my throat is a parched desert.
The pit that formed in my stomach as I walked is a cavern, consuming rational thought.
And I realize why I can’t wield my magic.
I haven’t had anything to drink or eat for hundreds of years.
This isn’t Helheim. My magic demands energy.
I am at this bastard’s mercy until I can sate my thirst and hunger.
Which pisses me off even more. I’m stronger than any of them. This prick will pay for treating me like one of Hel’s wraiths.
Within minutes, I feel the subtle shift of the dragon’s wings as we start to descend.
No wonder he accosted me. I was close to whatever city or camp he’s trying to protect.
These people must know something about the elves who arrived in this world.
That type of secret can’t be contained for long. Maybe the gods are with me after all.
And then I feel her, and I’m sure they’re by my side. The bond that ties Finaan to me vibrates, as if it’s as excited as me to be so close to her. This dragon rider is connected to Hel’s elves. He’s bringing me straight into their midst.
She’ll be mine again soon.