Dragon - Chapter Five

 She followed silently behind the large male through the pitch black of the corridor. Unlike the other hallways she had passed through, there were no torches to light the way.

She had difficulty seeing in the darkness, but assumed that the Stygians did not suffer the same disability. As a man with dragon's blood and an affinity to residing underground, she assumed he could see perfectly well.

And the fact that he trailed through the winding cavern of his home without difficulty solidified that thought. The heavy footfalls merely feet ahead of her guided her as she outstretched her hands to keep herself from running into the cold stone of the walls.

Minutes passed before a flicker of light gleaned from an opening ten yards ahead. As they approached the lighted entrance, the complexity of the tunnel behind her became increasingly clear. Branches formed from every which way, leading to an unkown destination.

The possibility of her finding her way out through the intricate passageways, in the dense shadows of stone, was becoming dauntingly poor.

She focused on clearing her mind, not wanting to delve in hopelessness. She would find a way out.

She had to.

They stepped into the lighted area and she was stunned once again at the careful hand that had so intricately furnished the room before her. The room was larger than the one she had been in before and held more worldly comforts.

Fur rugs of exotic creatures, sharp blades of various weapons shimmered on the far wall, a fire burned brightly to her left and a large, Oak bed stood before her.

Her personal distate of the animals killed in creating the rugs did not diminish her sense of awe. It was beautiful in a dark and dangerous way. How could the man before her relish in such beauty while simultaneously destroying that which she fought her entire life to preserve.

How could a barbarian appreciate worldy luxuries of hand-crafted art and the soft, exotic furs before her even as he sought to destroy nature's own splendor?

He reached the middle of the room and turned to her while gesturing towards the bed. “Sit.” She complied, walking past him while trying to maintain her distance. She lifted herself onto the bed and faced him, preparing herself for retribution.

He began to pace infront of her, arms folded across his chest in a manner that was becoming routine. “Correct me, Elf, but I thought I told you to stay in the chamber.” He stopped pacing and stood before her. His stoic expression lent no room to discern the motions behind sable eyes.

“Correct me, Dragon, but I was under the impression that I was not here voluntarily.” Her place on his bed, sitting compliantly as a child, did not give the defiant weight to her words that she would have hoped. But her eyes spoke volumes. She stared at him directly, a challenge in her gaze. A challenge to what, she did not know, but sitting meekly before him as he corrected her was not an option.

She waited for his response, his reaction. And she was taken aback when he began to...

Laugh.

It was a startling response and she jerked in reaction to the low, husky sound emanating from the man in front of her, his head tossed back in a fit of mirth. She sat, stupefied at the behavior of the ever-stoic man. She could react to violence, to anger. But how did she react to this? Was this a sign of a man that was more than a murderous barbarian or was he simply mad?

He stopped laughing moments later, eyes glistening even as his smile faded slowly. He leveled his gaze on her and stepped closer, watching her reaction.

She willed herself steady, not wanting to show any fear despite the fact that the leader of the Stygians was holding her captive. Willing her to lead his race to her people. An action that would result in more death.

Besides her sister, she was the only remaining healer of her kind and the only one strong enough to put her abilities to use. If she helped the Stygians, her people would die. If she did not help them, they would kill her and her people would still die.

Without a healer, the injury and disease that fell upon her people would have no cure.

“I misjudged you, Elf. You've got more fire than I had originally given you credit for.” He stepped closer and placed his hands on the foot of the bed, black eyes boring into her, willing her to squirm beneath his gaze. “However, I did give you an explicit order to stay in the chamber I put you in.”

She narrowed her eyes, the patronizing tone grated on her nerves like metal on ice. “Do not think to order me about, Dragon. You forget that you need me to find Ashwani and treating me as a prisoner will not gain you any favors.” She tilted her chin upward, an unmistaken sign of defiance.

All laughter subsided in the next instant. He moved with lethal speed and placed himself ever closer to her before grabbing the tip of her chin, holding her head in place. He leaned over, close enough that heat licked along her cheeks as he spoke. Callused hands chafed the soft, ivory skin of her face even as her heart thundered in her chest.

Eyes that bled crimson into their ebony depths stood mere inches away. His inner dragon ever closer to the surface. Her own blue eyes gazing back in feigned courage.

She would fight him, defend herself if the moment arose, but she knew it would be a losing battle. No matter how it hurt her pride to admit it, she knew that he was stronger than her.

And her goal was to leave here, alive.

“And do not forget that you are in my keep,” He paused momentarily, black eyes lacing with the crimson ferocity of the beast within, “You are only alive because I have kept you alive. And before you think to challenge me, to escape me, remember that your existence is dependent on my patience.”

He stared at her for another few moments before releasing her and stepping back, but the hold his gaze had on her did not diminish.

The red of his eyes began to recede as his anger subsided.

“There are thirty of my men here that want nothing more than to wash their blade with your blood.” She flinched at the image he created with his words. “Tread lightly, Elf, else I may not be there the next time you face the tip of a sword.”

The threat lingered in the air as she remained silent, fear once again coursing through her. It wasn't her life that filled her heart with fear, it was the lives of hundreds of Elves that depended on her gifts for survival.

If compliance would keep her alive awhile longer, she would simply have to grin and bear it.

“And since you have proven that you cannot follow orders, I will have Eliza guard you.” As he mentioned the woman's name, a tall muscular female stepped forward. She was not unlike the women she had seen in the room of Stygians, black hair pulled back into a knot at her nape, skin kissed by the sun, ethereal green eyes.

She was dressed in light armor that hugged her thighs and covered only the essentials of her upper body. Breasts spilling over the top of the black and bronze metal-donned leather.

She was beautiful, in the way that only female warriors could be, and she hated Elena. There was no mistaking the danger that coated her like a second skin, violence depicted in the muscular grace of her stride. In the way that she palmed her sword in subconscious routine.

Kane began to walk out of the room, but stopped and turned to Eliza. “I want her kept alive.” He left the room a moment later, clearly feeling that Eliza would have no difficulty following the order.

Elena wasn't so sure.

Reviews

[Kyle]

This is so intense! I cant help but feel there is a sexual quality here too.