Page 23 of Taught By the Dragon

So even though she’d never, ever talked about this event in her past with anyone, she made an exception.I’d do almost anything to get my dragon back.She replied, as if from a distance and not the person in the memory, “She came out later, around age ten. I don’t know why then, so don’t ask.”Wrong.She’d been malnourished, afraid, and miserable all the time, and she hadn’t blamed her dragon for wanting to hide from all that. “At first, I kept her a secret. I knew some kids disappeared shortly after their dragons talked with them, even some of the good kids. And even if the orphanage was a fucking hellhole, better the devil you know, and all that.”

She paused, trying to think of the best unemotional way to go forward. Bronx merely waited, not pushing her, his eyes kind and encouraging, which was weird and new. It made her uneasy.

Once she had her thoughts together, she continued, “I’d memorized every bit of information I could find about inner dragons. There wasn’t a lot—we had maybe one book that was actually written for dragon-shifters—but I was determined to keep her in line. That was the only way I wouldn’t show flashing dragon eyes and alert the orphanage staff to her appearance.”

She’d wanted to keep that one thing for herself. She’d failed, though.

After clearing her throat, she said, “When she first emerged and talked with me, I nearly screamed. Only because my former roommates had left a few weeks before, meaning I temporarily had my own room, did no one find out my dragon had shown up. But she wasn’t out of control or bossy or any of those things.” Percy almost smiled but remembered Bronx was watching her. “She was curious and chatty and nice to me.”

Nicer than anyone had ever been to Percy in her life.

No, don’t think about that, or you’ll start bawling like a baby.She somehow kept her voice strong. “And it became a matter of keeping her entertained so she wouldn’t throw a tantrum. I was alone a lot, so that was easy.”Fuck, did I really say that?Desperate for Bronx not to notice, she blurted, “When I needed to join the others for a meal or go to class, I thought of games and mazes for my dragon to play with. And it worked for a while.”

Then she’d grown so dependent on her dragon, needing that friendship to keep her from trying to run away or worse, and grown reckless.

Even now, she mentally kicked herself for losing control. True, she’d been eleven when she let the truth slip, but even at that age, she’d lost her innocence and naïvety years before.

If only she’d been more controlled, more disciplined, she might never have been sold to the facility. At sixteen, she could’ve left the orphanage to see if a dragon clan would take pity on her and let her live with them.

Bronx’s voice jolted her out of her head. “How did you lose her?”

Her gaze shot to his. The gray eyes weren’t full of pity, only curiosity, almost as if he wanted to know as much as possible so that he could help her.

It was probably bullshit, and he got off on power plays or something, but his reasons didn’t matter. All she wanted was vital information. “I let my pupils flash during class, and the teacher noticed. I was taken to the headmistress—administrator, maybe, but we called her headmistress—and was told that since I hadn’t reported my dragon waking up, which was one of the rules, I’d lose her for at least a week, maybe more, depending on my behavior.”

They’d used the inner dragons as methods of control. And to someone as lonely and isolated as Percy, it’d been the worst kind of punishment.

Her throat closed up at remembering how they’d tied her down and given her a shot, and her dragon had vanished within minutes. She’d even been weak, crying and sobbing to let her come back, but to no avail. She’d broken the rules, and they said she deserved the punishment.

Despite all her safeguards, something wet slid down her cheek. She quickly brushed away the tear and acted as if it hadn’t happened.

She wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow Bronx to think her soft. She wouldn’t be exploited ever again, if she could help it.

After clearing her throat, she said coolly, “She never came back, my dragon. They always found reasons to keep giving me shots and make her silent. In retrospect, I see it was to keep me in line and make me do their bidding. Shortly after I turned thirteen, they sold me to the facility. And, well, they made the orphanage look like a walk in the park by comparison. Needless to say, they never allowed my dragon back either.”

She should have held Bronx’s gaze and remained strong on the outside, but she was too tired. Reliving this, plus trying to retell it without all the emotions it triggered, was exhausting.

Looking down, she plucked at the blanket on the bed, which helped to channel some of her pent-up emotion. She had no bloody idea how Bronx would react to her story, but all she could do was wait and see before she could figure out what to do next.

Not for the first time, she hated how little experience she had with interacting with others. That was another thing she needed to work on, to learn how to navigate, or she wouldn’t last long in the outside world.

But concrete tasks, such as learning to socialize, were good. As long as she had distractions, she wouldn’t dive too deeply into her past and possibly fall apart.

ChapterTen

Bronx wished for a concrete target, some person who’d fucked over Percy in the past, someone he could punish for what they’d done to her. His late mate’s life hadn’t been easy, but even from what little he’d learned so far, Percy’s had been far, far worse.

His dragon danced at the edges of his mind, wanting to say something, but had remained silent since Percy had started discussing her memories. For all he knew, flashing dragon eyes might be too much for her right here and now.

And watching her pluck at the blanket, avoiding eye contact, made her look so bloody young, much younger than ever before.

Bronx wanted to hug her close and murmur that there were plenty of good people in the world—such as inside Stonefire—and that he would show her they existed, if she gave him the chance.

Which was bloody ridiculous, of course. She was his student, a damaged one, and even if she wanted to lean on him, to rely on him, and allow him to care for her, Bronx had fucked that up before. When the time came, she’d have to find someone else to do that for her long-term. His job was to help her heal, keep it together, and learn how to work with her dragon, if possible. Nothing more.

He said softly, “Well, your dragon will be wild and try to take control when she comes out again. She was when I found you last night, and we need to prepare for that. However, it’s been a very busy few days for you, and I don’t want to push you too far.” He stood—a bit awkwardly as always, since his prosthetic was good but not his actual leg—and added, “The doctors said the sedative should remain in effect and calm your dragon until tomorrow evening. So I’m going to allow you some time to thumb through these books, write out some questions, and then we’ll start lessons tomorrow.”

“Can’t I just ask my questions instead of writing them out?”

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