Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I do. And then it truly will be our world—both drakoni and human. But until then… His smile curls and he gives me a mischievous look. I will be quite happy to be one of the few lucky males to win a fierce human female to his side.
“And will we stay here? In the fort? Or what will you want to call home?” I ask, tossing the box on the bed and then curling my hand around the base of Jurik’s neck. “Will you want to leave?”
You are my home. I am already there. His eyes gleam bright gold, so beautiful it makes me ache. Home is my mate. My child.
It seems I’m home, too.
Epilogue
JENNY
I knock on the door of one of the worst shacks in Fort Dallas. It looks like little more than an old shed with a few add-ons and constantly seems as if it’s about to fall apart. The door opens, and a little boy with two missing front teeth, pale skin and curly hair beams up at me.
“Did you bring us food, Jenny?”
“Michael!” his mother scolds, coming to the door. She looks like most of the women not in the program - tired, too thin, and defeated by the world. Her greasy hair is pulled back under a handkerchief and her pregnant belly sticks out. I smile brightly, even though I’m quietly raging inside because I know her husband is off spending what few supplies they have at the gambling tables in the fort’s casino barracks. “You…here for the scraps?”
I hate the wavering excitement in Bethany’s tired voice. “I am.” I pat my stomach, where I’ve strapped several days’ worth of my breakfast rations and hid them. “Got the goods if you’ve got the scraps.”
She glances around. “Come inside. Quick.”
I step inside, and the interior of their hovel isn’t much better than the outside. Smells worse, too. Michael tugs on my dress, smearing it with grimy little hands. “Guess what, Jenny? I caught a bug today and it was the size of my cat.”
“Wow, buddy. That’s amazing,” I say, sharing a wink with his mother.
Bethany just shakes her head. “Go lay down, Michael. Mommy needs to talk to Jenny alone.”
The little boy smiles at me and heads to the corner, lying on a pile of burlap sacks, his eyes gleaming in the light of Bethany’s barrel fire that serves as her “stove.” Seeing them makes my heart ache, but I can’t do much. I unstrap the rations I’ve been carefully hiding for a few days now. It’s several cakes of thick cornbread, sandwiched with bean paste. All of them are slightly stale, because I don’t have a way of keeping them fresh, but I know Bethany won’t care. They’re starving as it is. I lay out the cakes. There’s four of them, and I wish there were more, but I can tell by the way Bethany’s mouth waters that she wants all of them.
“I…” Bethany hesitates, then pulls a small bundle out from inside an old cookie tin. “I cleaned and got what I could, but it’s not much.” She holds it out to me, shame on her face.
I’ve been sneaking food out to Bethany for a few weeks now. It started as a barter—she’d boasted that she had tons of scraps that I could use for my quilting, and I get two good meals a day being in the fort’s program, so it seemed like an easy solution. I’d skip breakfast as often as I could, hiding it in my clothing, and then we’d exchange. Except…Bethany’s contribution gets lighter and lighter every time. This handful of scraps wouldn’t make a dish towel, much less help me complete my latest quilt.
But we both know I don’t do this for scraps. I do this because I feel guilty. If I didn’t have the program, I’d be in Bethany’s place…or worse. So I take the small stack of cloth scraps from her with a smile. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
The relief on her face tells me everything.
I don’t stay long—they won’t eat in front of me so they don’t have to offer to share with a guest—and I slip back out into the night. Fort Dallas is a lot quieter than it used to be. Once upon a time, the streets were dangerous to be out after dark, but with Lord Azar in control, most of the misbehaving goes on in structured places…like the gambling den. It’s not much of an improvement, but at least I can walk back to the barracks unmolested.
Something big moves overhead.
I freeze, my senses on alert. I glance up…and immediately breathe a sigh of relief. One of the big dragons—the dead-eyed ones—is sitting atop the barricade up ahead. It almost looks like he’s watching me walk, but I know from months of experience that he really isn’t. He’s not “alive” like Rachel’s new friend Jurik. These dragons are living zombies, Rachel explained. Their minds aren’t there. They’re just here to keep us safe.