The Dragon in the Stone Page 3

  “Give us your phone, bitch.”

  “Never mind the phone. I wanna see what she’s packing under that blouse.”

  “Yeah, show us your tits.”

  Rhonda blocked out the rest of the hateful words, too focused on spinning in a circle to keep the youths at arm’s length. Every lunge of hers was blocked. Her struggles to escape the circle they’d formed around her, shoving her from one to the other, seemed to amuse them.

  “Fine piece of ass in that skirt.”

  “What’s the matter, chick? The likes of us not good enough for you?”

  Rhonda’s scream for help was stifled by the tallest of the gang shoving his tongue down her throat. He blocked her move to knee him in the groin, and Rhonda gagged on the smell of alcohol and drugs that came off of him. Unseen forces yanked her hair, and ripped her blouse, while yet more hands restrained her arms.

  Try as she might she couldn’t get free, so Rhonda bit down hard on the tongue invading her mouth. Blood filled her mouth, and her assailant’s scream made her ears ring before he punched her in the face with so much force her head snapped back. Her vision went fuzzy, and in the next instant she couldn’t breathe, as a set of hands closed around her windpipe and she was dragged to the floor. Her skirt ripped as the hulking shadow squeezing the life force out of her settled between her thighs. Rhonda tried to scream, to move, but with her arms and legs pinned by unseen hands, their slurred laughter in her ears, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as blackness crept around the edges of her vision.

  All of a sudden the pressure lifted, was ripped off her in fact. Laughter turned to shouts and screams of terror, and through the circle of fire that sprang up around her, she could just about make out a huge shape, before she slipped into the blessed oblivion of darkness.

  ****

  Drorgan didn’t usually hang around the stone once it released him, but his dragon was on edge. It wasn’t just the fireworks in his flight path that bothered him either. Those puny missiles didn’t have the ability to hurt him, even if they did affect his cloak. With so many humans staring up at the night sky they would see his shadow. Drorgan watched with grim amusement, as one of the rockets went haywire. On the verge of exploding it seemed intent on falling into a back garden where a bunch of wide eyed children were staring up the sky.

  With a flick of his tail Drorgan send the object back into the air, where it exploded into a shimmer of light. The resulting cacophony of noise hurt his ears, but the children’s screeches of delight made him grin.

  Maybe that’s why his dragon didn’t seem capable of tearing himself away from this place. Last time he’d woken up, another child had caught his attention. The little girl with her huge brown eyes had come back many times to talk to the stone, and Drorgan smiled again remembering her, as he took another low sweep across the park.

  All too soon, she had stopped coming, and he’d often wondered what happened to her. She would be all grown up now, and his dragon grew agitated again. Stretching his wings he allowed his animal side this moment. He knew his dragon wanted him to find Rhonda again, to see whether those brief moments of connection still held true after all these years, but that was impossible. Back then she’d had the open mind of a child, accepting the dragon as easily as though it had been a fluffy kitten. His dragon hissed at those thought processes, adding yet more sulfur to the atmosphere full of smoke. As a grown woman she would no doubt he horrified, and Drorgan didn’t need some female screeching at him. His ears hurt enough from the fireworks.

  He gathered speed across the playing fields, all set to head for the coast and home, when he heard it. The high pitched drone of two approaching motorbikes, driving far too fast on the pathway. As he turned to observe, their headlights illuminated a lone woman walking fast. Her white trainers reflected the lights of the machines, and Drorgan gave himself a moment to appreciate the sight of her shapely calves, before his view was spoiled by a tight fitting pencil skirt, short jacket and a white blouse, which seemed to struggle at containing a very impressive bust.

  This woman had curves to die for, in fact. A welcome sight, as far as Drorgan was concerned. Too many women of this time seemed obsessed with half starving themselves to keep up with some ideal of being stick-thin. He’d seen the billboards on his flights up and down the country, immersed himself in the newspapers which seemed to appear in his library at the most inopportune moments, as if to taunt him with the life he couldn’t have. Try as he might, the only place Drorgan could shift back into his human side was within the confines of his castle, so all this knowledge of modern human customs did him no good whatsoever.

  Neither did ogling this brunette, even if she did seem in trouble. His dragon hissed anew, when she was dragged onto the dark fields. With his excellent night vision Drorgan had no problem making out the details, as the gang of youths set upon her like a pack of vicious dogs. She put up an admirable fight, but there were too many of the bastards. Overpowered, she fell to the floor, pinned in place by the tallest of the group, as he strangled the life out of her.

  Something snapped inside Drorgan, as he swooped close enough to see the light dim in her terrified brown eyes—disturbingly familiar brown eyes—and with one swipe of his huge clawed hand he’d wrenched the sorry excuse of a human male off of her. He went flying through the air until a large tree stopped him. There were several spine breaking loud crunches, as his body wrapped itself around that tree, and Drorgan swore under his breath. Shit, he’d done it now.

  That was what came of interfering in human business. He should have just let them get on with it and ignored that strange feeling in his gut which had kept him circling the area for hours. Laying a protective ring of fire around the injured woman on the ground, he set the tree alight, catching one of the youths trying to escape on his motorbike. The damn thing exploded, sending a wave of heat and smell Drorgan’s way. Not that it could hurt him, but mindful of the bundle of half exposed curves on the grass, he roared a blast of his own fire across it to rein in the damage as much as he could. The youths, who’d been so cocky in their attack on the female, screamed in fright and ran off in all directions. The smell of scarred flesh hit his nostrils, and taking pity on the human torch that ran toward the street, he stopped the guy’s agony by ripping his head off.

  Another swipe of his tail sent the other motorbike crashing against a tree. With sirens already blaring in the background, and having set alight the remaining body parts of those men who hadn’t made their escape, he moved their remains around like pieces on a chess board. It wouldn’t do to let the authorities think this was anything other than a tragic motor bike accident, which left him with the thorny problem of the unconscious woman.

  He couldn’t leave her behind. She didn’t fit the puzzle, and besides, his dragon was positively itching to get back to her, to reassure himself that her injuries weren’t life threatening. The brief glimpse of those chocolate stained eyes haunted him. It was without doubt only because it had been his last awake cycle that he had met little Rhonda. This woman, who moaned and stirred as he bent his head to sniff her wouldn’t be her. Already a nasty bruise was forming on one side of her face, and she stiffened when he used his forked tongue to gently lick that mark.

  Drorgan groaned as her scent permeated his consciousness. Even covered in blood, dirt, and soot, it called to him on an instinctive, primal level, unlike any woman ever had before. Sweet, with a hint of spice and cinnamon, and completely free of any artifice, it made his dragon’s heart clench.

  He froze mid-lick when her eyes fluttered open on a groan, and she looked straight at him. Awareness registered, followed by panic, before her eyes dulled in pain, and she stunned him completely by running one of her small hands over the side of his face. Just like Rhonda’s touch had done before, this unknown woman’s left his scales on fire. They should send him running, these unfamiliar sensations, but it had the opposite effect on him.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t move a muscle, didn’t dare breathe,
as he waited for the inevitable screams. Instead of screaming, however, she gave him a tremulous smile.

  “You came back.” Her whispered words made no sense at all, but he had no time to contemplate them further, because the sirens were upon them and the place lit up with the powerful spotlights employed by the fire service. He had to get them out of there and fast. Flattening himself down on the ground as much as he was able to, he nudged her with his nose, silently willing her to climb on board. It was that or carry her, but he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t injure her further, with his teeth and claws. The way she wasn’t using her left arm worried him, as did the waves of pain he sensed coming off of her.

  Willing her to get on board with his idea, he breathed a fiery sigh of relief, when she dragged herself on his back with a grunt of pain. Once he was reasonably sure she was settled as best she could be and with her working arm curled around his neck, he flapped his wings experimentally. She slipped slightly and tightened her thighs around his neck in a reflexive move, which meant she slid right between his wings, supported by the ridges on his back.

  Her breathing grew labored, and her heart rate kicked up into dangerous territory, as he lifted off the ground, seconds before they would have been coated in the spray of water the fire brigade employed to put out the raging inferno around them.

  “Wow.” Drorgan was pretty sure he heard her whisper that word, before she slumped across him. Were it not for her uneven breaths touching his scales, he would have been worried about her. Instead he ducked his head and hugging the terrain to stay off the radar, he flew as fast as he dared toward the west coast and home. What on earth he would do with her, once he got her to his castle, he wasn’t sure. He sure as fuck wasn’t going to do what his dragon urged him to and that was to claim her.

  Chapter Three

  Rhonda was having the oddest dream yet about her dragon. She was flying, soaring, in fact, surrounded by his heat. She should have been frightened, but instead she felt safe, protected, as though flying on the back of a massive beast was an everyday occurrence. Especially in her work clothes. Stupefied she stared at her torn tights and her left foot. She’d been wearing her trainers, she was sure, so why then was it missing? Wriggling her other foot brought with it a surge of pain so intense she gasped.

  Surely, that wasn’t right? Did you feel pain in dreams? Let alone the cold air rushing past her trainer-less foot when she stuck it out at an angle?

  Rhonda forced her eyes open, only to be greeted with the sight of the earth rushing by at dizzying speed, and she promptly shut them again. Okay, that felt way too real for her liking. If she was dreaming, then this had to be the most intense dream yet, and she didn’t like it one bit. Dreams about Drorgan usually brought her pleasure, not pain and anxiety, and they didn’t make her feel motion sick either.

  So, if this wasn’t a dream, was it … reality?

  For one horrifying moment Rhonda entertained the idea that she wasn’t in her bed, and then promptly dismissed it. It was far too terrifying to contemplate, so she settled for hanging on for dear life. It was a dream, and you couldn’t get hurt in dreams, so it should be perfectly safe to open her eyes. So what if she couldn’t use her left arm, and if she leant in closer into the surprisingly smooth scales surrounding her, they moved and breathed underneath her fingertips like a living entity?

  Her imagination was simply going into overdrive. She couldn’t use her left arm, because she had no doubt wrapped the duvet around herself again in such a way that she’d trapped that limb. It would also explain why she felt so incredibly warm where the body of her dragon touched her, yet cold when she stuck her feet and head out. Rhonda slept with her window open, and with the temperatures dropping at night the breeze coming into her room meant she felt the cold.

  Yes, see, perfectly reasonable explanation right there. All you have to do now is wake up.

  Not that waking yourself up out of a dream was ever easy. Perhaps she ought to stop fighting it. Having made that decision, Rhonda opened her eyes and shrieked in delight when she saw a huge expanse of water underneath her. Waves crashed against the cliffs they were following along the rugged coast line. With nothing but the light of the moon to illuminate the view, it made a stunning vista. Like something out of a postcard with clusters of lighting along the coast indicating towns and villages. Rhonda idly wondered where they were. Geography was certainly not her strong point, not that it mattered what she conjured up.

  It’s just a dream. Stop analyzing it and enjoy.

  Her dragon ride swooped lower, skimming the waves, and Rhonda could have sworn she felt the spray cover them both. Sticking her foot out, she giggled at the tickling sensation, and held her breath when her dragon swung his long neck around to look at her.

  That side view was far too familiar, as was the intelligence that shone out of his slit green eyes. Rhonda had the oddest sense of déjà vu, and she whispered his name.

  “Drorgan?”

  Her ride jerked, as though he was surprised and then swung sideways. It made her slip slightly, and with a screech she hung on tighter. Trying to use her left arm resulted in a pain so intense bile rose in her throat, and she cried out. The huge wings behind her flapped harder in response. It seemed her dragon sensed her distress, and was desperate to get her to wherever he was taking her faster. Her ears popped with the force of the movement, and she swallowed repeatedly to get them to clear to no avail.

  How long this strange ride lasted, Rhonda couldn’t determine, drifting in and out of consciousness as she was, until at long last they seemed to take a wide circle, not unlike an airplane taxing up to land.

  Rhonda barely suppressed a hysterical giggle at that thought. Yes, she was so losing the plot, especially when she noticed the castle rising up in front of them. It was nothing but a ruin, or so she thought at first glance. The closer they came, flying up the steep cliffs on which the ancient looking structure sat, the more it changed. Bricks came together and formed turrets and battlements. Lights appeared in mullioned windows, and a busy courtyard came into view. People milled about dressed in period costume, and Rhonda blinked repeatedly to get her vision to clear. This couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t, especially when the huge dragon surrounding her shimmered and shifted. Scales gave way to smooth skin and firm muscle. Strong masculine arms wrapped around her to stop her fall, and Rhonda’s last view of this odd place was a pair of piercing blue eyes, drawn together in a frown.

  Whoever this stranger was, he looked far from happy to be holding her.

  ****

  “My lord, you’re back, and you brought us a guest.”

  Eugene’s usually so even tempered voice trembled in his seeming excitement. Stood in the doorway to the great entrance hall, Drorgan’s old and faithful servant rubbed his weathered hands together in glee, while on the square behind Drorgan the villagers added their voices of surprise.

  Too late Drorgan realized that he was buck naked, and he hastily clothed himself with a thought. Back in his castle his magic was as strong as it ever had been, stronger in fact, which gave him a bad feeling in his guts.

  His dragon, meanwhile smirked at him, as if to say, told you so.

  Ignoring his infuriating animal form for now, he flicked the doors to the castle shut with another thought. Eugene’s bushy grey eyebrows rose to his thinning hairline, and Drorgan immediately regretted that action. It wouldn’t do to get the old man’s hopes up, and to give the servants slowly assembling more fodder for the gossip mill. They would have a field day with him arriving with a strange, injured woman in his arms as it was.

  The suspicion he immediately sensed aimed at him, made him want to roar and punch something. He had more pressing concerns, however, mainly the fact that the woman in his arms was too quiet and still.

  “Get me Magda. She’s hurt and needs tending.”

  “Of course, my lord, she’s—”

  “Heavens above, what have we here, Drorgan?” His old nursemaid interrupted Eugene, and wiping her
hands on her starched apron she advanced as fast as her little legs could carry her rotund four and a half foot frame. Her grey, unblinking gaze landed on him, and the disdain in her steely glance made Drorgan feel about five again. Half dragon herself, Magda was a force to be reckoned with at the best of times. While she couldn’t shift, she possessed the superior strength and longevity associated with dragons, and she had the power to heal. Something that was sorely needed by the pale woman in his arms.

  Drorgan’s gaze snared on the shallow movement of her breasts, as she pulled in one erratic breath after the other, and his ear burned when Magda boxed him upside the head, as though he was a child again.

  “Stop ogling the poor thing, and bring her up to your bedchamber. It’s the only one prepared right now, and I need her on a bed so that I can assess her injuries. What happened here?”

  Drorgan glared at one of the kitchen maids, earning himself another box on the other ear this time, and his dragon hissed at Magda.

  “Enough of that, you.” Magda glanced up at him, and then turned toward the young girl. “Stop gawping and jumping to assumptions. If his lordship had been the one to harm her, he would hardly have brought her here.”

  The girl had the good grace to flush a bright red, while she nodded, sending her flame colored curls flying around her face.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “Yes, you did. Now, go, tell cook that we have a guest. No doubt, the poor thing will be starving when she comes ‘round. Bring up some of that chicken broth we had yesterday, as it will soothe her throat.” Magda tugged on Drorgan’s arm as she said that, and he obediently lowered the soft bundle of curves in his arms, so that Magda could hover her hands over her.

  “Poor thing. I’m surprised she can breathe as well as she can. Definitely a cracked rib there, and she’ll be covered in bruises. Who did this, Drorgan?”

  Clucking her tongue she turned to ascend the wide staircase, and Drorgan followed. He didn’t answer her until they had reached the sanctuary of his bedroom, and he deposited the woman in the middle of his huge four poster bed.