Heart of the Dragons: Bad Dragons 2 Page 11

  The cart passes. It’s tall and has one big cage that makes up the back of it. Inside the cage are hanging chains that look rusted and old.

  There’s man at the front of the cart, driving it, but I don’t see anything pulling it at all.

  The whole thing gives me the willies.

  I wait for the cart to pass around the corner, then slowly creep forward in the woods. But just as I’m moving around a tree, keeping my hand on the rough bark, I hear the creak of wheels again.

  I look back in panic to see the cart is turning around. Coming toward me.

  I blink, wondering how fast I could get back to the dragons. I may not have any choice.

  I take off the way I came, dead branches crackling beneath my feet as I dart from side to side, trying to remember which way the dragon’s house is.

  I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid. I’m so—

  Something grabs onto my shirt from the back, yanking me down so I fall to the ground in a heap.

  I scrabble, kicking behind me, kicking out at the hands trying to grab my legs, and open my mouth to scream just as my attacker overpowers me, putting a hand over my lips.

  His glare turns to a grin as he studies my wide eyes. “Oh, I know exactly what to do with you,” he says, looking me over slowly with a leer that makes my whole body shiver with cold.

  He jerks me to my feet, keeping his hand over my mouth, and drags me to the cart. He opens the cage and throws me in, and when I try to scream, he crawls in after me and gags me with a sweaty rag he pulled out of his pocket. Then he ties my hands and feet so I can’t escape.

  As I let out a muffled moan, he looks satisfied with his progress and jumps down to go back to driving his cart.

  As the cart bumps over the road in the direction of town, he lets out a loud cackle.

  “I’m bringing the best prize the Pit ever saw.”

  * * *

  Byron

  Byron scratched his head as he walked down the hall to Anna’s room to check on her. Part of him rankled at having to check on a human. He didn’t know how to be reassuring or nurturing. He didn’t know how to make her feel safe.

  He couldn’t promise to be some kind of awesome protector for her. That wasn’t who he was.

  He’d run back to yell at Van because he had almost ruined all their planning, all of their selling themselves as potential mates.

  He hadn’t been doing it because he was worried about Anna or moved by the tears in her eyes.

  Most likely…

  He put his hands on his hips as he stared at her closed door, wanting to do anything other than face her tears. Just the thought of it made him uncomfortable. Neither he nor Van was used to being around someone with tender feelings.

  Byron had been raised to be competent, not kind, and Van had been… Van had been…

  A bit ruined.

  Byron and the other dragons should have known something was wrong when they were younger. When Van was always muttering, always looking half crazed.

  They hadn’t known he was being tortured, forced to have visions. They’d just thought he was a braggart and fallible.

  But what did any of it matter now?

  Van was who he was, Byron was who he was, and Byron needed to calm down the dragon heart.

  To calm down Anna.

  He winced as he thought of those hazel eyes.

  Then he knocked on the door. “Anna? Can I come in for a second?”

  Nothing. Not even a sniffle.

  “Anna, I talked to Van. He was just being stupid. He won’t do that again.”

  Nothing.

  Byron bit back a growl of frustration. “Look, if you want to sleep in my room…” He winced because of course she wouldn’t want that. Dammit, after this, it would be impossible to get her to do anything but beg to be back with the other dragons. “It was only a kiss…”

  He felt like shit the second he said it because she should have had a choice.

  “Fine, stay in there, then,” Byron said finally, resting his fist on the door. He felt utterly helpless. He hadn’t helped Van. He hadn’t helped Anna. He’d always seen himself as strong and capable, but when it mattered, he was just a jerk.

  A jerk Anna couldn’t trust, even when she was scared and sad.

  And that’s when he realized, part of him had been looking forward to holding and comforting her.

  It would have been nice to be needed for once.

  He stepped forward, resting his forehead on the door. “Look, I’m going to protect you. From now on, okay?” He didn’t know why he was promising her that. To himself, he sounded stupid. “I won’t let Van do anything like that again. I promise.”

  Still nothing. What did she want from him?

  “Dammit, or anyone else,” Byron said, trying to remove those fearful eyes from his memory. Never wanting to see her look like that again. “I’ll protect you from anything. Just open the door and talk to me.”

  Suddenly, it made him nervous how much he wanted to see her. How upset he felt at the thought of losing her now.

  He’d never cared for another person. Not even once.

  No one but himself.

  “Come on, Anna. Open the door and just talk to me. I’m not as much of a jerk as you think.” Except he was. He was a total jerk. A bad person. A bad dragon.

  When she’d run into him in the hall, she hadn’t even asked him for help. Just looked up at him like she was afraid of him as well.

  It made him furious at himself for becoming that kind of dragon.

  The kind that was planning to trick her. To use her for his convenience.

  And fuck, when was she planning to open the door?

  “If you don’t come out, I’m coming in there,” he said irritably. “This is my house.”

  When he heard nothing, he felt a chill down the back of his neck. A suspicion.

  “Last chance before I break down the door,” he said.

  When she said nothing, he raised his foot and kicked the door violently, knocking it down.

  Because even when he listened with his mind, he hadn’t heard her thoughts. Which meant she was—

  His deliberations stopped completely as he looked at the window, which was open.

  He’d assumed she was aware of what kind of world this was and that no matter how much she hated them, she would know their cottage was the safest place to stay.

  Apparently not, because a rope of bedsheets hung over the windowsill, marking the route she’d used to escape.

  Byron clenched his hands, then turned and headed back to talk to Van.

  Chapter 15

  Anna

  Well, that went worse than I could have imagined.

  So much worse.

  “Where did you find her?” A tall, grubby man peers down at me with folded arms that are covered in hair and dirt.

  “One of my men found her just outside the city, wandering the woods. A delightful creature, don’t you think?” The man who seems to own the place looks extremely proud of himself.

  He’s tall, broad through the belly, with a long, dirty-looking beard and matted dark hair.

  The first guy just takes a long, slow, disgusting lick of his lips while ogling me. “Yeah.”

  I’m currently totally bound, chains wrapping my upper body and my hands chained behind me. My feet are chained as well, and I’m sitting with my legs bent to the side because it’s the only position that’s comfortable.

  As if the chains weren’t enough, I’m also in an iron cage.

  “She got all her teeth, Flint?” A man in an odd, torn brown robe and jeans underneath stops to look me over.

  “She’s in perfect shape,” the owner, whose name must be Flint, replies.

  I stare at the rusty bottom of my cage, not wanting to make eye contact with any of the dozens of men that have passed by while I’ve been sitting here.

  Apparently, everyone from Emberwood (the name of this area) and the surrounding regions comes to the Pit. But as I look around, it looks
more like the shittiest bar I’ve ever been to in my entire life, connected to a large, circular, open-air dirt arena off to the side.

  I don’t really want to think about what that arena is used for.

  Most surprises in the Blur are not welcome ones.

  I look up again and see the bar area full of giant men plowing through more drinks than a frat party on game night. Next to it, there’s a little table with a hewn-wood sign that just says “Contestunts” and a man standing behind it. The line for whatever they’re waiting for is so long it’s out the door, and I feel a deep sense of dread with each glance from the men standing in line.

  Suddenly, there’s a heavy, booted kick at the side of the cage, which rattles it and makes my nerves clench.

  “Look alive. More customers coming to inspect the merchandise,” Flint says, watching me hungrily as more men approach to ogle me and say gross things. “Fuck, look at that. You’re going to make me so much money tonight.”

  He puts his smile back on as several others come up and ask him questions. When they’re done, Flint follows them to the other side of the room, toward the long line.

  Wetness stings the corners of my eyes, and I just look down at the dirt floor in front of me, frustrated with the utter helplessness of the situation.

  Unable to get out. Unable to help my sister. Unable to figure out even what I’m doing here in the first place.

  It sucks.

  “Well, this is an unattractive sight.” A deep, familiar voice snaps my attention up.

  But when my vision clears, it’s just Byron.

  Damn my luck.

  “Well, don’t look so happy to see me. After all, this is your fault, dragon heart.” He’s still wearing the black tank top and cargo shorts from earlier, displaying all his impressive muscles and tanned skin. But his expression is stern, his full lips turned down slightly as he appraises me.

  I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry.

  “No, it’s your fault,” I reply, trying to stay strong even as I’m tied with what feels like ten pounds of chains. Maybe I’ll figure a way out of this.

  His brows go even lower. “No, it’s not. You ran. You’re weren’t supposed to run.”

  “So you expected me to just stay there, trapped?”

  His expression softens slightly, and I can see him look down at my feet beneath me, at my arms, considering the situation.

  I hate feeling vulnerable around him.

  “What were you thinking anyway?” Byron says gruffly. “We were protecting you from exactly this kind of situation. You weren’t in real danger with us.”

  “Keeping me around just so you can use me for whatever schemes you two are plotting doesn’t feel great either.”

  “At least you wouldn’t have ended up captured like this, first prize on fight night at the Pit,” he says, frustrated, though I can sense his frustration seems aimed at something other than me.

  “You didn’t give me a choice, taking me from my friends. And then Van…” I trail off as Flint appears behind Byron, looking up at the sizably taller dragon and giving a raspy laugh of glee.

  “Byron! The gold dragon himself. Fancy seeing you here.” His car salesman pitch is on full blast, but Byron seems more than mildly annoyed.

  “Don’t touch me,” he says, shrugging off Flint’s attempt at putting a friendly arm on his shoulder. “So is she tonight’s trophy, or are you just using her to attract new customers?” His tone is serious, commanding. The kind of Byron I haven’t seen before.

  “Are you interested? The fans have been dying to see a dragon come in for quite some time. It’s been forever since any dragon has competed here.”

  “No. Asking for a friend.” Byron’s gold eyes watch me carefully, like a hawk, even as Flint eats up his perfect poker face in earnest.

  “Well, tell your friend she absolutely can be his. Just make sure he signs up quickly, because the culling begins soon,” he says animatedly.

  “And what’s to keep someone from just breaking this flimsy cage open and taking the human for themselves?” Byron asks.

  Flint’s expression darkens, and his eyes flit to Byron’s. “Well, don’t let your friend get any ideas. Aside from the fae magic on this cage, everyone here knows this establishment is run by Azrael. He owns the whole city. And you know the saying around these parts. ‘Cut a fae once and get ready to spend your lifetime bleeding.’”

  Byron frowns. “I’ll let my friend know.”

  Flint’s voice is back to normal now. “Be sure to pay the signup fee at the front desk. Now I’m off to check on the other customers,” he says, disappearing into the sweaty, grime-covered throng of men frequenting the rest of the establishment.

  What the hell do they mean about prizes? Culling? I don’t understand, and this whole situation makes me want to vomit.

  “Well, you’ve really done it this time, dragon heart,” Byron says grimly.

  “What is this place?” I ask, ignoring his censure.

  “Only the worst place in all of the Blur. Or one of them, at least,” he replies, looking over his shoulder at the crowd behind him. Thankfully, his presence seems to be keeping the endless line of creeps at bay for now, so that’s something. “This is the Pit.”

  “And?”

  He scratches at his arm, looking uncomfortable with the situation.

  He’s not the one tied down right now, though.

  “Again, your fault,” he says, reading my mind. “And the Pit is a place where people from all around come to compete for prizes.

  “So like a tournament?” I ask.

  “More like a brawl. Last shifter standing.”

  “Why would anyone want to do that?”

  He just raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Right,” I reply, “Because the Blur is full of criminals and evil people. Like you.”

  He steps forward, right next to the cage, and his golden eyes flare like molten metal. “I’m nothing like these people. I’m a dragon. One with a destiny. I’m nothing like these lowlife thugs and murders.”

  From what I know of him, he’s not. But then again, he did end up here.

  “It’s still different. Night and day,” he says, reading my mind. “Anyways, the prizes are usually things from the human world. Stuff like pillows or clothes or food. Things you can’t get here if you don’t have the right connections.”

  “Have you come here before?”

  He scoffs. “As if.”

  There’s a pause, the sound of glasses and shuffling and low voices accentuated by drunken shouts filling the dank air around us.

  And Byron just keeps watching. Like he’s waiting for something. Just the way he seems to devour me with his eyes is almost enough to make me forget where I am for a moment.

  “You’re probably happy I got captured, aren’t you?” I ask. “So you can rub it in my face.”

  Byron stiffens slightly. “Aside from the fact that it serves you right, no.”

  “So what happens next? With this place, I mean?” I ask, dreading the answer.

  “In a little bit, everyone that has paid to participate will come in and they’ll be given a collar to suppress their powers.”

  “Why?”

  “To even the playing field. There’s wolves, cats, bears, and heaven knows what else here in the Blur. The collar limits everyone to their human strength, as well as keeps this from place from becoming a bloodbath of claws and teeth every night. They take it off at the end, though.”

  I see the line at the back starting to reach the end, and I can see something being exchanged between the guests and the person at the booth.

  “So everyone here is fighting to take me?”

  Byron nods.

  God, this is awful.

  “Obviously, I can’t enter because I’d never be stupid enough to put on one of those collars,” Byron says with a huff, brushing something I can’t see off his shoulders. “Just being in this place makes me want to go home and take a shower.”

&n
bsp; My heart drops. I guess I hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t or couldn’t help me. Oh God, I’m in for it now.

  My eyes sting as I realize how stupid I’ve been. Did I really think Griffin or Seth or Rainier would find me in time?

  So stupid.

  Byron winces slightly. “I’d break you out if I could, but I can’t. Everyone knows Azrael. He’s as dangerous as he is vile. Even if I could break the cage, we’d be as good as dead.”

  “Where’s Van?” I ask, eyes darting around, searching for him.

  “He didn’t come. It’s just me,” Byron says.

  “Oh.” I’m not sure what to make of that. I guess I’m not surprised that Van doesn’t care. I just didn’t think Byron would go anywhere without him.

  “I go wherever I want, when I want. I do whatever I want,” Byron retorts, puffing up.

  But I’m too exhausted to fight back anymore. I miss home. I miss my family. I miss having something to hope for.

  “Just go.” My voice is a dry whisper. My arms and legs are starting to ache. And pretty soon, some likely drunken asshole is going to be taking me as a literal prize for beating up other guys.

  Byron steps back, then lets out a frustrated growl. He paces, scratches his head, looks around, then finally stomps off, looking furious. “You should have just stayed where you were,” he yells back to me, loud enough that I can hear him as he disappears among the throng of male bodies, pushing them out of the way until his golden hair is no longer visible.

  But before I spend any more time feeling sorry for myself, there’s a loud crash like the sound of a gong made out of trash cans, and everyone’s attention is turned to the center of the ring off to the side.

  Flint is standing in the middle, holding a beat-up megaphone that looks like it’s from the eighties, and there’s a loud din that sounds as he first turns it on, then raises it to his mouth.

  “Contestants, make your way to the back to receive your collars. The culling begins in ten minutes!”

  At that, there’s a thunderous male roar, and the crowd splits in two. Some of the people disappear through a door next to the booth at the back and others make their way to sit on logs or beat-up chairs surrounding the arena, while the rest stand at the edge, just watching.