Page 75 of Fated to the Grumpy Dragon
“Emma?”
The ghostly echo of Rhyse’s concern was brushed aside by the onslaught of memories. Over nine months’ worth of them, all pummeling into my brain at once as the mental block came crashing down.
“I gotcha.”
Hands grabbed me as I teetered and fell, easing me to the ground while I held my head, screaming and crying through the pain assaulting my temples. The wet clothing, the letter, they were nothing before the onslaught of agony.
“What’s wrong, Emma? Talk to me. Please. What can I do?”
I was rocking back and forth. Tears taking salty tracks down my face, splashing to the rocky ground beneath. The pain gradually faded, but it left behind a new sort of ache.
“My home,” I whispered.
“What? What did you say?” Rhyse asked, still holding me.
“I remember.”
He stiffened. “Your memories are back?”
“Yes,” I said, sitting up, away from him. “I remember the dragons coming. They destroyed everything. I was there, caught in the middle of it. Running. Always running. They were so close. Can’t look back. Don’t look back, they said. Just keep running. Running away. While the soldiers ran to it.”
“To what?”
“Their deaths,” I whispered. “They all died.”
Rhyse closed his eyes. “Emma, I’m sorry. I—”
I didn’t hear what else he said. Because there was more. I remembered making it out, fleeing to another town. Then that one would come under attack. A months-long repeat of the same thing. Always running. There were always dragons on the horizon. Dragons with mouths of flame and claws that could cut through anything.
And the screams. There were the screams.
But then …
I got up, starting to pace.
“There was a refugee camp,” I whispered. “That’s where I was. I remember it. The tents. And a camper trailer. And—”
“And what, Emma?”
I met his eyes. “Bob. I remember Bob. The refugee camp overseer. He was so nice. Trying to help everyone, doing what he could. We flirted. It wasn’t supposed to be anything.”
Rhyse was stiffening as I talked.
“Then it got bad,” I whispered. “He got bad.”
My eyes popped open at the furious growl coiled in Rhyse’s throat, matched only by the fury I could see in his eyes and feel in my mind.
“I ran away. I fell. In the rain.”
“What then?”
“I hit my head. Then there were lights. Bright lights. Flashlights.”
“Then?” Rhyse pushed.
I stiffened angrily as I finally remembered it all. “Then I was in a room. They said I had two options. I could either go back to Bob. Or I could come here. Take my chances with the dragonmen who wanted women. They said I would be a concubine.”
Rhyse didn’t reply.
