Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
He snatches up the bars and gestures at my head. “You tear those stitches open, you come see me again.”
“I will. For now, I guess I’d better get back to work, though.” I pat the bandages on my head, feeling a bit like Frankenstein. At least being gross will help me avoid unwanted attention. I sling my pack over my shoulder, then head back out the door of the little building Jerry’s set up as his infirmary.
The moment I step outside, a wave of smoke hits me in the face. I cough, but that sends a shockwave of pain through my aching head, so I wince and try to avoid breathing in the sooty air. Even though it’s been hours and hours since the dragons left our camp, the place is still in ruins. Everything’s chaos. Buildings are smoking, others nearby completely destroyed. When Dakh and his buddy came to rescue Sasha, they didn’t play around. This end of the old city is trashed. There’s ash on everything, and I see a dead body facedown nearby. Actually, there are dead people everywhere, and I heard from Old Jerry that Azar lost about half of his men in last night’s raid. That’s bad for me, because he’s going to be on a real rampage over the next while, and since I’m his personal chef, it’s not like I can hide.
But I’m glad Sasha and Dakh got away safe and sound.
I won’t think about Boyd or the fact that he’s dead. I’ll just start crying again and that piece of shit isn’t worth the tears. I don’t even miss him. Not really. I think I’m just…sad for the past. He was my last connection to it. Boyd was the only member of my family who survived the Rift. He was the only person from before things turned to shit.
Now I’m truly alone.
I can’t think about that, though. If I do, I’ll lose it, and an emotional Emma is a dead Emma.
Instead, I study the smoking surroundings. The old hotel is mostly intact, but one side of the building is charred. Several of the windows have broken and even more of them are covered in soot, but overall, it could be worse. A few other buildings are still on fire, and a few of the nomads rush around, trying to save what they can or moving their motorbikes out of the way of the flames. Azar stands near them, looking like a displeased ghost. I shudder at the sight of him and slink away to the hotel entrance.
Last thing I want is Azar’s attention right now. He’s sure to be in an ultra-pissy mood, and he scares me enough when he’s normal. I don’t want to think about him when he’s furious. I’ve never seen him raise a hand to anyone, but he scares the shit out of me just the same. There’s something downright unnatural about him, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
It’s his dragon side. And if he’s anything like Zohr, or Dakh, I don’t want to get on his bad side.
I push through the double doors of the hotel and instead of heading to the kitchens, I turn down a side hall, toward the area that was once an indoor pool. I think about dragons. And I think about Zohr. I think about how trapped we are. Sasha’s words of warning are ringing in my ears.
Emma, there’s only one way to make a dragon un-crazy. You know how.
Oh boy. I’m either the biggest idiot in the world or…well, no, just the biggest idiot. There’s no “or” out there. Of course I know how to make a dragon un-crazy. I’m not keen on the thought, but…
But I have to do what I feel is right, and none of this feels right.
Sasha hinted to me a while ago that she and Dakh didn’t have a real “bond” until she became his girlfriend. She hid the whole “mental” communication thing for as long as she could, because she wasn’t sure if she could trust me. And that mental bond, she let me know, only happened after they happened. I can put two and two together. Somehow, the dragon has to claim her sexually in order to link with her mind.
That’s how you make a dragon un-crazy.
Just thinking about it freaks me out, but I’m low on options.
I push my way into the indoor pool area. The room here is huge, and because air conditioning is a thing of the past, it’s also muggy as shit. The windows are filthy but mostly intact, and the room is wide open and spacious. The pool itself is empty, like a giant concrete bathtub. In the center of the pool, chained to the bottom, is a man.
Zohr.
Just looking at him, you know he’s definitely not human. His eyes are currently as black as night, and the bared teeth he’s flashing are sharp fangs. His entire hulking body is covered in the same scaly pattern that Dakh, Sasha’s dragon, has. His arms and legs are spread-eagled, held down by cuffs. He can barely move his body, and I know he has to be in agony. The bindings are designed so that he can’t change forms, of course. The moment he tries to change back, he’ll decapitate himself or shred his wings—or both. Azar’s taking no chances. The terrible-looking contraption around his head and neck looks excessively painful, and I don’t like to think about the spiky things pressing into his golden back. I doubt he can get comfortable, and it makes my heart ache.