Page 55 of Rejected By Dragons

I flop back onto the mattress, annoyed at myself for tossing my pillow so far away. Not that it matters. I have another one right here. The room Amy and Rhiannon set me up in has every comfort. They've been so kind to me. They're my friends; they're almost like a new family.

How can I even think about betraying their trust?

The problem is that I can't stop thinking about betraying their trust. All night long, I've tried to put the crate out of my mind. Over and over again, I've repeated to myself why going downstairs and letting myself into the shop and finding the thing would be a terrible idea. But the instant I talk myself out of trying it anyway, the thought is back. It would be so easy. I have full access to Rhiannon's stockroom. I couldn't remove whatever the item is, but I could at least find out what it is. I could look at it. Maybe hold it in my hands.

My dragon does a swooping swirl behind my ribs, a dark but fiery heat blooming in my chest. She's been quiet for the most part since deciding to make her presence known, but I haven't stopped sensing her presence.

She really, really likes the part of the plan where I sneak downstairs and try to get a peek inside that crate.

I drag my hands down my face.

Really, what harm could one tiny peek even do?

Before I can talk myself out of it again, I shove the covers back.

I feel like an asshole, creeping through the house, avoiding the couple of spots on the floor in the hall that always creak. At the foot of the stairs, I listen carefully, but the house is dark and silent.

The only time I hesitate is when I'm standing at the door that separates the residence from the shop's stockroom. I glance around, guilty as hell, and despairing of the idea of getting caught. I'm risking so much here. Rhiannon will probably fire me and throw me out of her house if she finds me.

But I feel helpless to the tug inside me. My dragon is egging me on. In some ways, it's like the moment Storm confronted me and begged me not to stand up for the Emergence. I'm putting everything on the line right now, but I can't deny the gut instinct driving me on. I can't ignore my dragon when she's finally, finally, finally decided to try to speak.

With my heart in my throat, I unlock the door. I half expect my key to be rejected, or for blaring alarms to start ringing, but the lock glows and releases, the same as ever. Exhaling deeply, I enter and close the door behind me.

Inside the storeroom, it's dark and still. I have pretty great night vision, but I'm glad I thought to bring a flashlight. I shine it ahead of me, not daring to turn on the lights for some reason.

Rhiannon had Freya take the crate to her office. For a second, I'm concerned I may have to do a little bit of actual breaking and entering, but the door to the office is open.

The instant I spot the crate, my heart starts jack-hammering in my chest. The tug inside me is overwhelming. I have no second-thoughts. I don't question my decision to come down here, or interrogate myself for violating Rhiannon's wishes and trust.

At some point, Rhiannon must have come back down here. The top of the crate has been removed, as has at least one layer of packing material, which is piled neatly beside it on the floor. The same warm, dark glow I felt emanating from the box before overwhelms me now as I approach.

I check myself before I can get too close, though. Does a person know she's being seduced by evil magic when she's being seduced? Does anyone really know if they're being manipulated or used? If so, they'd probably back away--right?

Whatever is drawing me toward the contents of this crate doesn't feel manipulative. It feels...loving. Right.

That's probably what every idiot says before getting eaten by a demon.

Trying my best to keep my guard up, I move to stand right in front of the open crate. A black cloth rests atop whatever's inside. Energy buzzes through me. It reminds me of the color purple and of summer nights on a distant mountain in the middle of the Stone Kingdom, of gooey marshmallows and songs sung in a soft, deep voice.

With trembling hands, I lift the cloth.

What I find beneath takes my breath away.

It's a bracelet--or maybe a bracer would be more accurate, about six inches long and a little larger than the circumference of my wrist. The metal surface is shiny and black, with intricate details I can barely make out in the dim light. They swirl and dance across the curves of the piece, managing to appear delicate while also radiating power. My gaze caresses the design, its beauty almost too much to bear.

And that right there is my first warning sign.

Blinking, I force myself to inhale and exhale. To keep my wits about me and my defenses up.

Forget being seduced by a magical artifact. This one is wining me, dining me, and offering me a night of pleasure unlike any I've ever known. The overwhelming sense of rightness I felt earlier hits me again, but even stronger this time. The bracer feels like it was forged and crafted just for me.

Tentatively, I reach my hand out toward it. Power hums through the air, sweeping across my skin like a lover's touch. A deep purple glow emanates from the black metal, so dark it can barely be seen, but to my inner eyes, it’s as bright as the sun. I'm practically blinded, everything else in the world bleeding away into my periphery, eclipsed by the spark of electricity arching between my fingertips and the darkly humming metal.

Until a quiet voice breaks through my haze. "I suppose I should have known."

It's almost impossible to tear my gaze away from the bracer, but through sheer force of will, I do. Its pull yanks at me, but I tug my hand back.

Rhiannon stands at the door behind me. I didn't hear her, didn't feel her or in any way have any sense that she was near. Considering my absolute absorption with this bracer, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that she was able to sneak up on me, but it feels like more than just distraction on my part.

---