“What do we have here?” one snarled.
“I got dibs on next!” another chanted. All three chuckled demonically.
He restrained my arms behind my back, one of them stepped in closer. He began to rub my breasts, I jerked away, causing his hand to tear one of the leather straps on my top. I sobbed, trying to break free from his hold, but it was no use. I had run from one predator into the hands of three more. No, no, not again, I thought. This could not be happening. My soul shattered. I started to scream, but I was met witha filthy hand clamped over my mouth. Tears drenched the skin on my chest where my shirt had been torn, and snot ran from my nose, only to be smeared across my face by the same rough hand. I cried out in the most guttural, fearful way I could, but no one heard me. I was powerless again.
Flashbacks of that house flooded my mind, and I did not care if I lived or died.
When suddenly all three males began to spontaneously combust. Their bodies engulfed in a rageful flame. My captor released me before the flames could reach me. Their screams of agony carved through my ears like glass. I watched for a moment as their flesh began to melt from their bones. I looked away, I dropped to my knees, covering my face, my tears pooling in my palms, screaming, and shaking. I heard three consecutive big thuds and looked up, their bodies had dropped to the ground, behind them a furious Cercies stood breathing heavy with bared teeth. His hand extended with retreating flame. It was him; he had saved me. Or was he going to kill me too for running away?
He paced toward me, panicking. I tried to scurry away, attempting to flee in terror. Then I felt his large, rough hands grab me. I gasped, thinking I was going to be next, but instead he scooped me up in his heavily muscled arms.
“Are you injured?” he asked, but it sounded more like a bark. I said nothing and continued to shake and cry. Dark memories from my past in the foster care system came flooding back, paralyzing me. My vision blurred.
He carried me to the courtyard of the training facility and sat me on a bench. He knelt in front of me and gently peeled my shaking hands away from my face.
“Breathe,” he ordered.
I flinched at the harshness in his tone. I tried to slow my breathing, but I could not stop taking short, jagged breaths. He looked at me curiously, then began to demonstrate. A slow inhale through the nose and a long exhale through the mouth. I matched his breathing until my panic attack subsided.
“Why did you run?” he demanded fiercely.
I hyperventilated a few more times, then began to breathe deeply. My vision sharpened. That was when I saw his gentle eyes fixed on me. It was a softness I had not expected from the General of the Kingdom of Flame. I took a deep breath and began to explain.
“I have some trauma from my past, and when you locked us together in the room alone and began touching me, I started to panic.” I'm not sure why I told him the truth. It's not something I talk about. Ever.
A sudden realization crossed the General’s face. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then sighed. With a stern but compassionate tone, he explained, “Understand this, mortal. I have never trained a female before. I spend the majority of my time here amongst these warriors. I locked us in there to protect you, to make sure no one like that disturbed us.”
He looked extremely uncomfortable and glanced around as if checking whether anyone was close enough to hear. “These… feelings… are not my area of expertise,” he continued. “But I apologize that my touch made you uncomfortable. I was only trying to correct your form. I did not consider how vulnerable that situation must have made you feel.”
He seemed sincere, and maybe this was the first time he had ever been anything but brutal and tough. I nodded, accepting his apology.
“You must think I’m pretty weak and pathetic, don’t you?” I mumbled.
“Actually, the opposite. I know a warrior when I see one,” he said. He paused, then explained, “Not all battles are fought in the skies. Whatever you went through, you survived. And now you have agreed to help save a world that is not your own, knowing the risks are high. You are the only hope for our kingdom, Delilah. That makes you my most important warrior… even if you are tiny."
“I’m notthattiny!” I defended playfully. He placed his
huge hand on top of my head.
“Do you even clear five feet? I’ve seen Fae-lings bigger than you,” he teased.
I scoffed. “I am five-three, thank you very much.”
He grinned. “You are a tiny warrior, Delilah, and don’t ever forget that.”
I respected this Cercies. He might be rough around the edges, handsy, and misogynistic, but he seemed to have a good heart when it really mattered. I couldn’t help but wonder who he might have been if he hadn’t been shaped by the kingdom that made him.
“I have an idea. Tomorrow, instead of coming here, I will shift my schedule and fly to the castle from now on. We will build your training around self-defense. I will teach you how to protect yourself, so you never have to feel vulnerable again.”
He then added with a grin, “You’ll be so fierce, even Titus will fear you.”
I chuckled at the sentiment. “I’d like that,” I said, smiling warmly.
“Come on. I’ll take you home.” He stood and reached for my hand, helping me up off the bench. His touch was a bit rough, but I knew it was not on purpose.
Home, he called it. It was not my home, but I almost did not catch it. Every day I was here felt like I was decades away from my own realm, and all my memories of home had become less tangible.
Cercies’s dragon was the largest I had seen so far. Bright orange scales covered its body from tail to head, baring razor-sharp fangs-stained blood red. Its head bore a crown of spiked horns. His dragon made Rexius’s terrifying dragon look like a chew toy.
