“Look, I’m sorry, none of that was supposed to happen, I lost control, it won’t happen again.” He replied, voice heavy with regret.
“Let’s just go and get this over with,” I said, walking straight past him to greet Zephyros. She greeted me the same as last time. Oddly enough, I felt calm around her. She reminded me of a horse my grandparents used to have on their farm. Slowly, I approached her with my hand stretched out to pet her neck, that tingling sensation in my palm returned. I stroked her scales and she made a grumbling sound of approval. I told her that her scales looked extra shiny today. Her eyes said thank you.
Aurelius stood behind me, observing my interaction with his dragon.
“Stunning, isn’t she?” he asked rhetorically. I nodded yes, but I was not entirely sure if he was talking to me or the dragon.
He climbed up first, then helped me up. He secured me in front of him, latching the saddle buckles. His arms were on both sides of me as I leaned forward, holding the front passenger handles. I felt his chest press against my nearly naked back, and my memory flashed back to last night, to the way he had cupped my face in his warm hand. I gulped, shook off the memory, and we took off into the sky.
We landed at the base of a mountain not far from the castle itself. Before us stood the main garrison, a base known as Dragon’s Maw. It was named for its location in the mouth of a massive, rocky canyon where lava flowed viciously. The rock face glowed with an internal, hellish light from the magma rivers that coursed just beneath the stone. The Kingdom of Flame’s military base was a sensory overload, a constant hum of heat, noise, and dragon activity. The air, perpetuallythick with the scent of sulfur and scorched earth, stung my eyes and coated my tongue.
Above me, thousands of dragon nesting platforms dominated the upper tiers, each one a scorched and cratered expanse of rock. They were living arsenals, waiting for the call to war. The base itself was a marvel of rough-hewn military ingenuity.
The center of the camp was dominated by a massive forge, its smoke billowing up and out of the canyon like a permanent cloud. This was where the smiths worked, crafting new harnesses, forging dragon-scale armor, and repairing anything a dragon’s claws or a rival’s magic might damage. The rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil, along with the booming roars of dragons, became a constant background noise.
As we followed the main path, I felt thousands of eyes on me. Now I understood what Aurelius meant. I was drawing a lot of unwanted attention. I felt like a rabbit thrown into a den of wolves, all muscle, and teeth.
Aurelius handed me off to a captain who seemed to be one of his friends, which, for some reason, put me at ease. He told the captain to have Cercies fly me home when he was done with me. Aurelius acted differently toward me, so detached, as if I were nothing more than a package to deliver. Was this because of our argument, or because of his friend? He left on Zephyros without a single glance back, and something in me ached at his cold departure.
My training began with a tour, led by a stern-faced Fae captain who seemed to barely tolerate my presence. We walked past warriors moving with a speed that blurred, their practice blades humming with an unheard frequency. The captain pointed toward a grand, open-air pavilion where General Cercies was already waiting. My heart began to pound a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I remembered reading about him in the library. God, I would love to be there right now instead of here. It was unbearably hot, betweenthe sun and pools of lava. Why would anyone choose this location for a military base? My head was already pounding from the hangover, and the heat only made things worse.
The book said General Cercies was a fierce and unflinching leader, a master strategist whose victories were whispered across all the lands. Nothing, however, prepared me for the sight of him. He stood with his back to us, observing a group of trainees with an easy, casual power. His hair was long, black, and wavy, and as he turned, his face was revealed. It would have been a masterpiece of perfect, inhumane symmetry if it were not for the gnarly scar through his right eye. Somehow, it only made him more attractive.
His ears were delicately pointed, his jawline sharp, and his golden eyes, the color of rich honey, held a light that seemed to see right through me. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and his casual elegance felt like a deliberate counterpoint to the controlled menace he exuded. His skin was a deeper golden tan, probably from spending the majority of his time in this harsh environment.
The only real match for Cercies would be the High Lord himself. He too had broad, muscular shoulders, big, bulging arms, and more abdominal muscles than I knew were possible. He was shirtless, as were the rest of the warriors. The captain explained during the tour that they liked to expose their skin to the heat of the lava as much as possible. It made them stronger and less susceptible to dragon fire.
He nodded to the captain, a curt, imperious gesture. Then his gaze, heavy and assessing, fell on me. “The mortal,” he said, his voice a low, melodic rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. “You are late.”
My heart jumped into my throat. “Forgive me, General,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. What was I going to tell him? “I didn’t know what to wear.” A pathetic half lie for an excuse. Iam the worst liar, I concluded, but I could not tell him the full truth, that I had got drunk on Faerie wine and decided to stay up late and masturbate, which caused me to oversleep.
He looked me up and down thoroughly. My breath hitched under the heat of his gaze. A hint of a smile flickered across his lips, so briefly I might have imagined it. Then it became predatory, all sharp angles and hidden teeth.
“Your attire is just fine with me,” he smoothly remarked. Suddenly I wished I could cover up. Something about his tone made me feel uneased.
He turned and walked away. His movements were fluid and silent, and I scrambled to keep up. I was a mortal in a world of monsters and magic, and one of the most dangerous of all was the beautiful male walking just a few feet ahead of me. I had no idea what to expect, but I did not feel exactly safe. I wished Aurelius were here.
He led me to a secluded area inside a stone building, where various practice weapons and workout equipment lined the walls. I heard the door behind us click shut, and my heart dropped. I looked around and realized we were very much alone. Aurelius would not leave me here alone with him if I were not safe, would he?
“Let’s get started. First, we will determine what you are capable of,” he commanded, shifting into work mode.
He had me do various exercises like planks, push-ups, and sprints. He tried to push me to my physical limits.
I found it difficult to focus when all I could think about were his hands. He touched various parts of my body to correct my form. The conditioning session became a blur of exhausting drills, but the exhaustion was overshadowed by a persistent, simmering discomfort.
I could not tell if he was touching me more than necessary, but every touch, though professional, felt dirty.
It was not that he was doing anything necessarily wrong. It was how it made me feel. My pulse quickened. I needed to escape. I refused to be a victim again. Not after everything I went through. Everything I had survived. This was not going to happen again. I wanted out of the locked room. Every alarm in my gut was going off at once.
“Can I take a quick bathroom break?” I asked, interrupting his drill.
He paused and studied me for a few moments, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke. “Of course,” he replied with a nod of his head, then opened the door. He pointed me in the direction of the restrooms. I forced myself to remain calm and walked past him, down the hall, without drawing suspicion.
Once I turned the corner and out of his line of sight, I sprinted as quietly as possible. I somehow managed to find an exit door and slipped outside. I banked left to round the corner when I ran smack into a hard, sweaty chest. I looked up to see the tall, menacing face of a random soldier. Make that three soldiers. One of them grabbed my wrist with an iron grip.
“Let me go!” I yelled.
