Page 12 of Dragon Unhinged

She frowns and then gives me a short nod. “I guess we’ll use that to our advantage,” she mutters, moving closer to me.

The mass of anxiety in my throat is hard to swallow around, as I watch her body sway as she moves around my cage.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come back.”Or if you were actually real, I think, not wanting to say it out loud.

I slept for shit, thinking about our encounter, wondering if it was real, or if I’d imagined her as a fantasy, a way to escape this prison.

She smiles softly, the gentleness in her eyes almost making me more weary, as if I’m afraid to trust it. “I told you I would.” She holds up a canvas bag and bites her lip. “I brought a couple things, but they don’t feel like enough.” After a beat, she adds, “I brought some for the other guys too, if you think they’d take them.”

I gesture for her to come closer, and I feel my dragon stir again. It’s always a relief when I can sense him. Only this time the agitation doesn’t feel like irritability. Instead, it almost feels like he’s preening for her.

Brianna steps closer, and before I can say much, she sits on my bed. If you can even call it that, when it’s so obviously not designed for any sort of comfort. The concrete platform is little more than an oversized step, rising from the floor and barely keeping me from the filth they seem content to let stew all around us. It’s not even long enough for me to fully stretch out on, making me always feel too cramped, too big for the space.

I watch with bated breath as she pulls things from her bag, sorting them into three identical piles.

Wet wipes.

Bandages and a tube of something that looks to be an ointment or an antiseptic.

Something small and bundled in paper towels, that smells sweet.

In the third pile, she sets a comb and hairbrush.

As if a need for grooming, cleanliness, was the first thing she thought of when she saw me.

The idea makes my stomach churn. I can only imagine the state I’m in. I haven’t seen my reflection in a long time, and I’d imagine I wouldn’t even recognize myself.

“I haven’t always been like this.” I gesture awkwardly to the torn, stained clothing I wear and the dirt clinging to what feels like every inch of me. “I used to be…”

She holds up a finger and presses it to my lips to shut me up. “You’re a prisoner. I don’t expect you to be able to take care of yourself, if you don’t even have access to a proper shower. Or bathroom.” She frowns a little at the bucket in the corner that gets emptied a couple times a week. If I’m lucky.

At least before they send us to the fighting rings, they give us five minutes under hot water with a bar of soap.

I guess their wealthy spectators wouldn’t care as much if they saw the filth we live in.

“I can’t keep these things. If someone comes in and sees us with them, they’ll…” I cut my words off before I reveal too much. Her father and brother may be evil, vindictive men, but it’s not my job to tell her such things.

There’s still even half a chance that she could be one of them.

“We’ll figure something out, if you let me keep visiting you. You shouldn’t be forced to live like this.” She starts looking around my small cell, as if she’s trying to decide what else I need. Or where she could hide things.

“At least I still live.” I give her half a smile, and it hardly reaches my lips.

“What is that?” She points to the tray of food provided this morning. Her nose turns up, and I can’t blame her.

I haven’t been hungry enough yet to try to force down the brown slop filling the main segment of the metal tray.

“My food rations for the day.”

“Oh, God, you need something better.” She immediately picks up one of the paper towels wrapped around something. “Try these.”

I take them from her and unwrap them carefully. The soft warmth feels good. I unfold the paper towel, revealing two chocolate chip cookies in a plastic bag.

“Cookies?” I raise an eyebrow at her, even as a full grin breaks out on my face. It almost hurts, like I’m using muscles that have forgotten how to act.

The scent of fresh baked cookies fills my cell and for once I inhale deeply as my mouth salivates. I lift one to my mouth and all but groan as the delicious treat dances along my tongue. It takes as good as it smells. The chocolate and cookie together areheaven in my mouth. It feels good to taste something fresh and appetizing, like I’m getting something utterly forbidden. I close my eyes and enjoy the bite until I swallow it.

“Are they okay?” she asks with a little concern in her voice.

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