Page 2 of Fated to the Grumpy Dragon
I breathed a soft sigh of relief as he returned his attention to the politicians while reaching over to turn on the television. Crisis averted.
For now. There would be another. There always was with Bob. The only thing bigger than his temper was his insecurity. I should’ve seen it sooner, but the early days of the refugee camp were such a disaster. I’d arrived without anything more than the clothes on my back, having missed more meals than I’d eaten in the week prior. I’d been tired, weak, cold, and hungry.
And then Bob had been there. He’d picked me up, helped me stay alive in the chaos that followed. At the time, he’d seemed like a really good guy.
“Beer!” he half-screamed, tossing the bottle at me.
I fumbled the catch but managed not to drop it. Even so, I froze, expecting Bob to erupt out of his chair.
“Then there’s these stupid rumors,” he spat.
I breathed softly and hurried to get him a fresh beer.
“Peace,” he said, hurling the word at the wall. “With the dragons? What a load of bullshit.”
The source of his excess irritation was obvious now. Bob knew that if peace came to pass, the refugees in the camp would go home. He would lose his spot.
Lose his power.
I had a momentary spike of fear. How would he react to that knowledge? There was only one convenient outlet for his rage.
Me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
The beer sailed through the air.
CRASH.
The TV and bottle both broke, which sent Bob flying off the handle as he realized what he’d done.
“Bob,” I said, lifting my hands as he erupted from his chair, his face turning red, spittle flying from his mouth.
“They’re doing it. They’re really going to cave to those invading lizards! We should just nuke the bastards and be done with it!”
Even I, a poorly educated waitress from the middle of nowhere, could see the flaws with that plan. Not Bob.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said.
They were the wrong words. I knew it immediately and began backing away as he turned on me, finding an active source for his fury right there. The look in his eyes was wild. The walls of the trailer, already tight, seemed to close in even more. I was trapped with him.
Nobody to stop him. The ugly look on his face bespoke many punishments.
“How is it going to be okay?” he said in a low tone. “How? Do you think you know better than me? Do you think you understand all the shit I have to deal with? DO YOU?”
He was screaming by the end. I was crying. Trying to back away.
As I did, my heel caught something. I stumbled over it but caught myself. One of Bob’s boots.
His boots that he’d thrown lazily at the door, expecting me to clean up.
At the door.
Without thinking twice, I kicked the boot toward him, then bolted for the door and the rain and darkness beyond.
Chapter Two
Emma
