Page 11 of The Heart of the Dragon

As much as I loved being on the road during the sales season, there was always something special about returning here for the winter. I rolled the window down just enough to take in a deep breath of the chilly sea salt air. I could hardly wait to be curled up next to the fire in my chair that overlooked the ocean. Maybe with a good book and a cup of hot tea with a splash or three of rum.

I almost cried at how good that sounded right now.

Not everyone agreed that building a cottage on the edge of a cliff was a smart move, but I didn't care. It was worth it for the views alone.

With my focus on my breathing more than the road, one of the tires hit a pothole and jostled the vehicle roughly to the side.

"Crap," I exclaimed, grappling the wheel to straighten me out before I tipped my load.

I heard a string of incoherent words mumbled behind me and my heart jumped into my throat. Dammit, I was so close.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and could see the dragon man had shifted position, and his hands were rubbing his head, but his eyes were still closed.

I didn't have long. Minutes. Seconds. I didn't know. Fortunately, we had arrived. Both of us in one piece, which in itself kind of felt like a miracle.

"What in the fae hell is going on?" A rough, graveled voice from the back seat battered at my senses, sending chills racing along my skin.

Okay then. Change of plans. Forget parking the trailer. It was time to get out and run. My heart raced as adrenaline surged through my body, fight-or-flight instincts kicking into overdrive.

I jammed on the brakes, the sudden stop causing the trailer to lurch violently. My hands shook. I barely remembered to shift the gear into first before I frantically fumbled with the door handle. With a swift yank, I flung the door open and leaped out, my feet hitting the ground hard. The impact sent shockwaves up my legs, but I ignored the pain, ready to sprint for my life.

More words roared from the man in the backseat, but they were muffled by the windows and drowned out by the pounding of my heart in my ears. I was already racing to the front door, my legs pumping furiously beneath me. The gravel crunched under my feet, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I should have tied him up. The thought flashed through my mind, a bitter realization of my own shortsightedness. It was a nice thought, but not exactly helpful at this point. I was running for my life.

I reached for the door handle.

"Why am I in the backseat of one of these automatic coaches in the middle of nowhere?" The question echoedin my mind, a stark reminder of how quickly this situation had spiraled out of control.

I didn't hesitate. I slammed the door shut behind me, the sound reverberating through the empty cottage. With shaking hands, I threw the many locks I had back into place, each click offering a small measure of relief. And then, driven by pure instinct, I went to the shotgun closet. Living alone, away from town, had taught me to be prepared. I might be isolated, but I wasn't a fool. I knew how to protect myself.

After I pulled out what I needed, the familiar weight of the weapon oddly comforting in my grip, I ran to the front of the cottage. My heart pounding in my ears, I peeked out the window, scanning the area frantically. There he was, stepping out of the vehicle with one hand holding his head, his face contorted in a mix of pain and fury as he bellowed in anger.

The sound, though muffled by the walls, sent a chill down my spine. I double checked my gun to ensure it was still loaded, the metallic click seeming impossibly loud in the tense silence. Then, steeling myself, I took a deep breath and waited, every muscle in my body coiled tight, ready to spring into action.

I didn't have to wait long.

The pounding at my door started almost immediately, each thunderous blow reverberating through my skull.

"What is the meaning of this?" his voice boomed with a dangerous edge. "I shouldn't have to repeat myself, but wherein the hellscape of this realm am I?" The words dripped with venom, promising retribution with each syllable.

I shuddered under the weight of his righteous anger. It was impossible to blame him when it had been my dumb idea to drag him out here. In hindsight, it was easy to see other scenarios that might have gone better. Preferably one that didn’t include my meeting a gruesome and untimely death.

But I was committed now, for better or worse, to seeing this insane plan through to its bitter end.

"I was trying to help you," I yelled through the door, my voice tinged with frustration.

"Help me? Are you insane? I don't need help," he roared back.

"I beg to differ," I retorted, trying to keep my voice steady. "My boss was going to take you to the hospital, and then where would you be?"

"Not here. That's for sure. Wherever here is." He hesitated a beat before continuing. "Open the door and stop hiding like a coward. You need to take me back to the church right now."

Everything in my body screamed for me not to comply. My heart raced, and my palms grew sweaty as I contemplated my next move. Whatever the herb had done to him, he was still twice my size and probably ten times as strong. Hell, his massive hands were probably capable of snapping my bones like twigs. The thought made me shudder, and I found myself backing away from the door.

But I wasn't a coward, and him calling me such triggered my pride. I hid from nothing, including whatever consequences I'd brought down on myself with my reckless actions.

With a surge of adrenaline, I moved to unlock the door, my fingers trembling slightly as I fumbled with the latch. Then I immediately retreated, my heart pounding in my ears as I positioned myself with my back against the far wall. The familiar weight of my shotgun was a small comfort as I aimed the barrel squarely at the opening, ready for whatever might come through.

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