Page 17 of Ragnar

Regreee is saying something to me, but my instincts have completely taken over, my beast alarmingly close to the surface. The threat to our mate is unacceptable but I cannot take a stand with her close by. Memories flash, the bang of the alien weaponry, the flashing pain as I was taken down and dragged into their ship. Memories of being taken captive for experiments and then dropped on a foreign world. No matter who the driver is, I refuse to be at the mercy of another again.

The thought of my little mate in the grasp of the monsters who dropped me here forces me into motion. Never. I promised her that she would be safe, and I intend to keep my promise. No matter the cost, I will keep her safe.

Chapter Thirteen

*Reggie*

The sight of cars behind us does odd things to my stomach. Fear, confusion and joy all fight for dominance but fear wins out. The cars don’t quite look like cars as they get closer, and I realize I am looking at something alien. The construction doesn’t match anything human, nor does the unhindered movement through the streets. With a squeak of alarm, I turn forward once more, holding Floofy tightly as I wait for Ragnar to move.

My old self wants to take charge, to demand action but this isn’t my world anymore, and I am stunned when I realize I trust him explicitly. It isn’t in my nature to defer to another, to give them complete control but with Ragnar, it comes easily.

With a squeak, I grab onto his flattened sail when he leaps forward, lunging for the nearest building, a huge box store that we already looted. He doesn’t even hesitate to dash towards the door, using his momentum to slide through the small space before climbing to his feet. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know where he is headed.

Shelves and debris go flying as he runs for the employee break room at the back of the store, the sound of the vehicles growing to an alarming volume as they come to a screeching halt at the front of the store.

The boom of a weapon makes me scream, shelves and a cloud of dust exploding around us as the round hits the floor directly behind Ragnar. Unphased, he dashes forward, shifting on the run before diving into the break room with me in his arms. Another boom shakes the building and the door shatters apart, throwing us both to the ground.

A scream of pain and terror lodges in my throat as I am tossed to the ground. Protectively I wrap my body around Floofy, taking the impact on my shoulder with a jarring crash into the concrete floor. My momentum sends me sliding backwards. When I hit the wall, the scream finally frees itself from my throat, raw and loud in the ensuing silence.

“I heard a human! Cease fire” An eerily familiar voice shouts and my muscles tense. Wildly, my gaze flies around the room before it lands on Ragnar. His sides are heaving, green blood dripping to the floor. My heart clenches in panic when I see his sail along his back obliterated by the blast that sent us flying. Bone and muscles are all that is left.

Resolutely he begins to climb to his feet, a snarl escaping him as he prepares to face this newest threat. I can’t let him. More voices echo around the abandoned store, each one hitting a different nerve within me. Despite the bone deep aches that throb, I lurch to my feet. Floofy gives an alarmed huff, scrambling out of my arms as I lunge for Ragnar, dragging him back to the ground.

He turns to me, a question in his eyes. A question that I can’t answer. Not yet. The past has begun to mix with the present as the voices gain familiarity, until I can put faces to the voices I am hearing. Faces I never wanted to see again.

“You have to stay down!” I hiss at him when he tries to rise once more. This time anger creeps into his gaze, anger that I will not allow him to fight for us. Anger that I will not let him fight for me. The knowledge of who hunts us, as well as the weapons they have will not allow me to let him go.

“Regreee must be safe.” He hisses back, his ears perking up as the approaching humans get alarmingly close. Again, he makes to rise but in desperation I fall onto him, using my body to block him. Guilt fills me when he winces, the contact of his destroyed sail to the floor must be agonizing.

“Regreee isn’t in danger. Ragnar is in danger.” I whisper-shout, wincing at how loud my own voice is. Confusion crosses his scaly face, uncertainty making him hesitate to throw me off. It isn’t much, but it is enough for me to rush out the rest of my explanation. “I know these people. They aren’t going to kill me, but they WILL kill you. Let me save you.” My voice is pleading, and I pray that he can’t hear the uncertainty hidden within.

The truth is…I no longer feel safe with the men on the other side of the semi-destroyed wall. They shattered any sense of trust long ago. Regardless, I have to try. Ragnar can’t die and he is already grievously injured. For a moment I think he is going to deny me, to be the macho man like normal. It's there, in his eyes. The desire to deny me, to give his everything to free me from this situation.

Fear from my past morphs with the fear for my future. Ragnar is my safety and the men on the other side would kill him without a shadow of a doubt. They weren’t understanding when dealing with humans, I have no disillusionment that they would handle Ragnar with any sort of grace. Though it is dirty fighting, I use the only thing I can. Desperation to save my future from my past makes the words tumble from my lips without thinking.

“If you let me handle this, I will be your wife. The way you want, however you want. Let me save you.” I beg, fully aware of what I am promising now that it has been said…yet I do not care. The men who even now are calling out their next moves, are more monster like than the alien beneath me. I made the conscious decision to embrace this moment with Ragnar and I fully intend to keep my promise.

His body tenses beneath me, his eyes searching mine to see if I mean what I say. Unwilling to flinch away and hide, I let him see it all. The truth that hangs between us can no longer be denied. The balance has shifted, and we are teetering on the edge of something new and scary, yet not unwanted. A war is waged behind those azure eyes. His two desires are fighting for dominance. A desire for me and a desire to protect me.

“Regreee is my life. If hurt, I kill.” He murmurs, putting as much feeling as he can behind those chilling words. One clawed hand comes up to caress my face, his forehead pressing into my own as he fights to let me go, to honor his words. His words give permission, but refusal is in every line of his magnificent body. His meaning is clear. If I can’t fix this mess, he will fix it for me.

A shiver of appreciation skims down my spine and a flash of heat hits my core unexpectedly. There is something to be said for a male who is willing to do anything for you. To kill for you. Our bubble is broken when the men are close enough for us to hear their words. It's now or never.

“Surround the door. I swear I heard a human scream. If there are people in here, we can’t afford to just start blasting. Take up formation.” The sheriff was always a smart man. Taking a deep breath I push away from Ragnar, moving towards the busted door.

“Hold on! I’m coming out!” I shout, making sure they can hear me. Their murmurs of confusion urge me forward, to confront them before they find Ragnar. As if to prevent me from forgetting him too, Floofy crawls from his hiding space until he is seated next to my mate. The term is foreign but feels so right.

“Who is there?” Sherif Sam demands, his voice loud and in charge. Part of me wants to hold my name close, a cherished secret until I emerge, but doing so won’t help our case. With one last look at Ragnar, I answer.

“Reggie Brooks.” The name rolls off my lips with the power of a bomb. Silence reigns through the derelict store and then cursing takes its place. Quickly I weave through the rubble until I can see them, the holes in the ceiling providing just enough light. I refuse to look back, afraid my bravado will fail. Fear that I will ask Ragnar to fight this battle for me.

Eight faces come into view. Eight damned, monstrous faces. The faces of my nightmares, my pain and my past. They might have the skin of men, but their insides are far rottener than most beasts I have seen. The sheriff and his deputies. My ex-coworkers.

My heart begins to pound faster when I see a particular face, a face I would like nothing more than for it to be ripped off and fed to the nearest monster. Elijah. The cause of all my suffering, the sole reason I was forced to leave my dream job. No one believes the victim when they cry rape, especially not when the one accused holds such a powerful position.

Images of the past threaten to overwhelm me. The attack in the locker room. The pain. The following ER visits. The diagnosis. The fallout once I came forward, even with proof. The broken trust when I wasn’t believed. The residual emotional and physical pain from being raped. All of it is a jumbled mess in my head and threatens to steal the hard-won peace I’ve achieved since it happened.

“How the hell are you here?” Sam brings my attention back to him, a scowl on his face. He hasn’t changed much despite the apocalypse. He is still tall, dark and handsome. And still a massive asshole apparently, his impatience growing as I simply stare at him instead of answering.

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