Page 72 of Black Onyx
“We won’t leave him. That’s about as much as we can do for now. Hopefully, he’ll just tire himself out, and we can reason with him.” Mayhem suggests, but I can hear the scepticism in his tone.
“That might’ve worked if he had let his dragon out regularly, but it’s been years. He’s got a lot of energy and most likely anger to work out.” Loki grimly answers.
They carry on talking around me, each of them trying to suggest different things that might work and coming to the same conclusion that it will fail every time. I won’t let it; I won’t let him get lost in his beast. So, I carry on watching as his dragon stomps and eats his way through our enemies hoping for something to jump out at me on how I can help.
My magic nudges me, slowly replenishing itself. I follow my instincts and let my magic out to play. It immediately rushes towards Reaper, but instead of coming into contact with him, it pauses and takes him in. Through my magic, I get the feeling of profound sadness coming off of his dragon; I know it's his dragon and not Reaper because he feels different. I don’t know how I just know that. He's also angry, and I feel my eyes start to water at the overwhelming loneliness he feels. I call my magic back to me, and it reluctantly leaves him.
I’m going to help him even if it kills me, and he’s capable of that, but considering how angry he is that someone hurt me, I don’t think he will. I glance back at the others, all of whom are in deep conversation. I twist slightly, checking my stomach muscles and back from the wound, finding myself entirely healed. Before any of them can stop me, I race forward, aiming for the rampaging dragon.
“Farren, he’ll kill you!” Storm yells after me, the panic loud in his tone.
“Let her go. I have a feeling he won’t harm her.” Killian replies calmly, and I pause, looking back.
“You know, like a feeling, or you KNOW,” Loki asks, looking like he’s seconds away from grabbing me.
Killian just smiles knowingly, “Trust me.”
“And trust me, I know, I don’t know how but I know he won’t hurt me.”
Storm crosses his arms, frowning deeply, and all of them look the same. They hate this, but I will not lose him, and I will not let his dragon remain so lonely. Knowing that they’re seconds away from stopping me, I rush forward again, trying to avoid the bodies scattered on the ground. Reaper's Dragon still hasn’t seen me, and I need to get his attention somehow so he doesn’t accidentally stand on me or hit me with his giant tail. I have every faith that he won't kill me on purpose but accidentally is another thing.
It turns out I don’t need to worry about getting his attention since as I go to step over a body, one that I thought was dead, it reaches out and grabs my ankle, sending me to the floor with a thump and a yell of surprise and Reaper’s head snaps in my direction.
I hear one of the others groan from behind me, and I have to admit that probably could’ve gone smoother than it did. Quickly jumping to my feet and sending my magic into the guy that grabbed me to kill him, I watch as the dragon stops stomping his feet and destroying things and then starts lumbering towards me, his heavy feet shaking the ground.
I quickly raise my hands, trying to show him that I’m okay, “Whoa! Whoa there, handsome, I’m okay, not hurt, see?” I hold my arms out so he can see all of me, “but I won’t be okay if you don’t slow down, you’ll squish me.”
“Did she just call him handsome?” I hear Loki ask incredulously.
“Of course, she did. It’s Farren; when faced with a murderous and out of control dragon, why wouldn’t she call it handsome?” Rival replies drily.
I tune them out, ignoring that they actually have a point, and at the very least, I should be feeling nervous, but I’m just not.
Thanks to my magic that has sent feelers out at the still approaching dragon, I can feel his confusion that I’m not running away and that I don’t seem to be scared of him. He doesn’t quite know how to handle it because he keeps bounding towards me.
“Farren, he’s not going to stop!” Mayhem yells, panicking when I don’t move.
“For fuck sake, Farren, move your gorgeous arse!” Storm yells.
I ignore them, planting my feet and refusing to move. He comes skidding to a halt just in time. He blows a hot smoke filled breath at me in a single huff, and this time I have to use my magic to stop myself from being blown over by the sheer force of it. When the smoke clears, and I’m still standing there, grinning like a fucking crazy person, he tilts his head, studying me like I’m the rare and unusual creature, not him.
My smile broadens, “Are you done trying to scare me off? I think we both know you won’t hurt me.” I take a gamble with my words and raise my eyebrow, and I almost laugh out loud when he huffs and glances away. “That’s what I thought.”
He lifts his lip in a slight snarl, and I chuckle at the entire lack of real anger behind it. When it’s clear he’s not going to frighten me off, he huffs again like I’m exasperating him and flops down, so he’s lying down. He still towers over me, but he puts his head on his massive feet like a dog would and watches me.
“He’s laid down. The fucker has laid down.” Loki exclaims, utter bewilderment in his tone.
Incredibly slowly, I move closer to him. He doesn’t move but watches me cautiously. So he’s not surprised by anything I do; I talk to him while I’m moving.
“Is it okay if I touch your nose?” I ask, and when he doesn’t do anything, I add, “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
I slowly reach my hand out, placing it on his snout right between his huge nostrils; he tenses slightly, and then his eyes widen as I just gently stroke his nose, marvelling at the silk-like texture. It occurs to me that if he’s only been free a couple of times in his life, and some of those were while he was still in captivity, then he won’t know what soft touch feels like, and that breaks my heart.
“You’re beautiful. You know that?” I say softly, “and so sad, I’m so sorry.”
While I speak, my hand has stopped moving, so he nudges it ever so gently, so I start stroking his snout again. I know he heard me; there’s intelligence and a level of understanding in his eyes which is more than an ordinary beast.
“Are you Reaper? Or do you have a name?” I ask, knowing he can’t use words but hoping that he can nod or something. I’ll spend all day listing names to find his.
