Page 90 of Ensnared
I say a silent prayer that Sammy and the girls are alright. Gideon, too, though that seems greedy.
“Can you take me back home?” We’re in the center of the street at an intersection I’ve never seen before. There’s a high rise on one side and a medical plaza on the other. “Or do we have to?—”
But a large silver dragon that just passed overhead wheels around and drops to the ground in front of us.
Ocharta.
How convenient that you’re here.
“You look pretty when you smile,” I say. “I wonder why Azar wanted nothing to do with you. I guess personality does matter, even to dragons.”
Ocharta steps closer, her head angling a bit sideways. Today wasn’t going my way, but the humans have given me a gift.
“You’re a fan of nuclear candy as well?”
Gordon’s still beneath me, but his muscles are tight. I can tell he’s very, very nervous.
All the earth blessed are supposed to be near the perimeter. Imagine my surprise when I notice that one of them isn’t, and that he’s carrying a human.
“Axel’s close,” I lie. Although, when I feel for the bond, I realize he is heading this direction. “I’ll call him over. I’m sure he can explain.” Actually, I’m not at all sure he can explain why I’m here when I was told to stay put. He’ll be furious, but I’m hoping he’ll reserve his anger for after I’m not about to be electrocuted. I find the bond between us, and I give it a good tug. I’m not sure whether that’ll keep him coming, but I hope it will.
Oh, do call him. That would allow me to rid myself of both of you at once, without any accountability.
He’s still moving closer, so he must have gotten the message. “Are you positive you could destroy him? He is a prince, after all. And he may not have wings, but he’s got thousands of dragons who answer to him.”
He can’t even force his human to use respectful words. Ocharta scoffs. Azar has always been blind when Axel was around. Once he’s gone, he’ll realize that I’ve been helping him. Things that hold us back should be eliminated.
I just need to keep her talking a little longer. Axel’s moving closer and closer, and surely he’ll have some other earth dragons with him. We were just under attack, after all.
“What’s your plan?” I ask. “You’re going to fry me, and then if you can manage it, you’ll kill him. Then Azar, who despises you, will suddenly find you irresistible?”
If Azar wanted me dead, he’d already have killed me. This is a dance you don’t understand, human.
“Actually, the only reason he didn’t kill you is that I begged him to spare your life.”
Ocharta straightens and her eyes blaze. Liar.
“You’re actually delusional. I didn’t realize there were mentally ill dragons.”
There’s no warning before she strikes, lightning bolts shooting toward Gordon and me and striking us dead center.
We used to have a bug zapper at our house, on our back porch. I used to cheer when bugs died—if you’ve ever been bitten by a mosquito, you probably understand the sentiment. But now? I actually feel a little bad about that. See, our bug zapper had different settings. If you were killing, say, small mosquitos, the lowest would work. If you were plagued by horseflies, you might need the highest setting.
What that electro dragon hit me with in the house was for tiny critters. It hurt, but I recovered. Maybe it was because it was smaller. Maybe their place in the pecking order determines the strength of their attack. I don’t know.
What I do know is that Ocharta’s zap is quite a bit stronger than anything I ever imagined, and that old me would have died immediately. My bond with Axel has made me stronger, strong enough to withstand a lot more pain, a lot more damage, and a lot more misery. But in this case, I’m not sure how grateful I really am.
Dying by electrocution is not a good way to go.
After I bob in a sea of misery for a while, when I come to, I’m dangling from Gordon’s saddle by one leg, foam spewing out of my mouth, and my brains feel well and truly scrambled.
If he’s not already on his way, at least it should bring Axel running.
My legs are jelly. My arms feel like rubber bands that have been overstretched and snapped. My head’s pounding. But I’ve never been someone who just rolls over and gives up, no matter the punishment doled out.
Gordon’s spasming underneath me, and the twitches from his body knock some sense into me. My hand’s trembling, but I force myself to sit up and grab the top of the saddle. I pull my leg—wrenched badly, but not broken—loose from the saddle strap. I clench my hands into fists to try and restore feeling in them.
What are you doing? Hold still, bait.
