Page 7 of Wild Fire

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His captors had to have been watching him long enough and known enough about dragons to have prepared and executed their trap with such precision and skill. On the other hand, he had been focused on freeing the drakaina, and, if he were honest with himself, on the unexpected decisions made by Falkor and the rest of his brethren.

Warrick could understand, and even tacitly accept, that a change in leadership at this time would not be to their advantage, but Falkor had taken a human to mate—a human that he had impregnated prior to her being transitioned to a drakaina. That alone had made for a cautionary tale amongst the warriors of the Phantom Fire. In all the millennia in which they had lived, not once had a dragon been able to successfully plant his seed in a human female. Falkor, Sobek, and several others had deemed it to be because she was his eternal flame, but still, the idea of siring a child on a human had been sobering.

His captors had been returning like clockwork every three days to douse him with the diluted salt water and had then begun carving small chunks of skin from his back, muttering incantations, and jeering at him.

“What are your plans for me?” Warrick had demanded.

The slaver dangled a piece of scale-covered hide in front of him and snickered. “We will use your magic until it is of no use to anyone.”

“And then?” Warrick had asked, knowing all too well what the answer would be.

“Then we will have no more use for you.”

Warrick had watched the slaver skitter away as if he were afraid Warrick would somehow slip loose of his chains and devour him. Keeping him prisoner as a dragon had to be far more difficult than if they’d allowed him to shift and become human once more. It must mean, therefore, that his being in his dragon form was important to whatever it was they had planned for him.

Not knowing what that might be and what role they saw him as playing in their nefarious schemes was what kept him awake. Whoever or whatever was behind them had to be powerful and old. Only with great age did great knowledge and wisdom come. So whoever was pulling the strings was old, powerful, and possessed of a dark magic of its own.

Warrick shook his head, not only to clear the memory of his captivity but of the cobwebs that seemed to crowd his thoughts and ability to reason clearly. He rattled the chains to remind himself that he was still a prisoner and that chains that could be rattled could be broken. He watched the moonlight filter through the egress windows into the subterranean level. Warrick could only imagine that the light came from glass prism sidewalks found in Pioneer Square and some of the surrounding neighborhoods. The glass prisms were built to provide natural light to the passages constructed below the sidewalks after the Great Fire of 1889.

His prison was still dark, but the windows did cast enough light for Warrick to be able to see his surroundings. It also allowed him to keep track of the days as they came and went and thus know when to expect his captors. If the woman didn’t return before sunrise, she might well be in danger of being captured herself.

Warrick went from rattling his chains to shaking them, testing the strength of both the restraints and himself. He could not allow her to be captured. The sound of the doorway at the top of the stairs being opened roused him from his musings and brought him back to awareness. Something tumbled down the steps, but he could not turn his head enough to identify what it was. Whatever it was, she was with it. He could smell her fresh scent and inhaled deeply.

She approached him with bolt cutters, leveraging it between his muzzle and the band that bound it and using all her strength, cut it away. It pinched and he could feel a small spot of blood welling to the surface where she had nicked him with the instrument of his freedom.

“Shit. Sorry about that,” she said, dabbing at the spot on his muzzle with her shirt.

Had she not seen his enormous size or the razor sharpness of his teeth?

“It will heal quickly,” he intoned. “What did I hear thumping down the…” He sniffed the air again and grinned. “Beef. You brought me beef.”

She shrugged. She was adorable and her fragrance was far more intoxicating than any side of beef, but if he hoped to get them out of here, he would need the beef to get his strength back.

“That’s what you said you wanted to eat,” she said, sounding a little confused. “I also have a couple of gallons of water back up in the Jeep.”

“That isn’t what I said I wanted to eat,” he teased, “but as it’s all that’s being offered, I’ll take it. I am Warrick.”

The woman rolled her eyes, and the faintest blush stained her cheeks as she proceeded to cut through the links of the chains used to secure him to the floor. “I’m Dani.”

Warrick got to its feet, shook his massive form and then turned towards the side of beef, blocking and shielding her with his tail as he inhaled deeply and roasted the entire side of beef in one breath.

“I’ll bet you’re handy at a barbecue,” she quipped, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

“For many reasons,” he agreed, wolfing down the side of beef in just a few gulps.

“You really were hungry…”

“Yes, and fortunately for you, this left little room for a tasty virgin.”

“Hot news flash, Warrick, I haven’t been a virgin for a very long time.”

“Good to know,” he said, managing to waggle his eyebrows and making her laugh. “Now stand back, here’s where the real magic comes into play.”

“There’s more magic than a talking dragon?” she asked skeptically as she stepped back.

“So much more,” he assured her.

Deciding to go for a dramatic effect, Warrick rumbled low in his throat and bade his dragon to relinquish its hold and rest. A maelstrom of thunder, lightning, and color that sizzled with electricity and power whipped through the room. Normally painless, the shift from dragon to human after so long a time being held in captivity was excruciating. Warrick raised his muzzle to the rafters and blew a plume of smoke into the air.