Dragon's Claim Page 10

  The longer we stay, the more we are integrated into everyday life. We help the New Villagers patch up some of the broken-down buildings, fixing windows, doors, walls. Many of the villagers have chosen to live together, but they will eventually want their own spaces, so more buildings need to be converted into habitable dwellings. I watch Penelope as we work, my chest warm with contentment at seeing her beam with happiness.

  "Penelope—can you help with this door over here?" one of the women calls out.

  "Be right there!" she calls back, wiping her brow and hurrying over.

  She loves being productive, feeling like a part of the whole. We may as well make ourselves as useful as we can while we are here. I turn to continue lifting the section of wall up, my muscles straining at the weight.

  As I do, my eyes fall on the little man with the beady eyes. Elmer. He watches Penelope, his eyes narrowed and unfriendly. It seems he is always there to watch us rather than do work of his own. My muscles burn as I heft the heavy piece up, looking away.

  I am not concerned with him. It is clear the man is only looking for his moment to shine. Such vain reasons for aspiring to leadership never work out well, in my experience. Especially on a planet such as Tajss. A human as soft as he has no sway over this harsh world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Penelope

  "Are you having seconds?"

  "No, I'm not—"

  "I saw you circle through earlier! Don't tell me—"

  "And you think I didn't see you sneak something in your pocket? Get real—"

  I wince as an argument erupts between several of the New Villagers at breakfast—over rations. I understand the tension, but fighting about it isn't going to change the fact that soon there will be no food at all to bicker over. Reason is difficult to find when basic needs aren't being met.

  Two of the men start posturing as they fight, getting right up into each other's faces. This could escalate into something physical very fast.

  "I understand your concerns," Bashir cuts in, his voice pitched to carry even over the arguments.

  My eyes turn to him along with everyone else’s in the square. Bashir has a way to attract attention when he wants to, even though he's also able to somehow stay in the background at other times. Another useful skill. All eyes are on him when he has the fighters' attention, continuing as he moves closer. Ready to intervene with his body, if necessary.

  Be careful, Bashir. I'm growing pretty attached to that body.

  "You don't understand anything," someone mutters.

  Bashir raises an eyebrow but doesn't respond directly to the comment.

  "There is enough food for everyone. You should not focus on the lack." He looks around at those gathered. "I will hunt more meat before Penelope and I depart to replenish your stores."

  That seems to break through where his other words didn't. The tension drops. The two men who were about to come to blows separate. Conversation starts up again. Just like that, the situation is deftly diffused. The way Bashir can handle people...it's truly amazing. But these problems aren't just going to go away. What are they going to do when Bashir and I leave?

  After spending time here and seeing the day-to-day life, it’s clear that they can’t take care of themselves. It makes much more sense for them all to just go to the city. To make matters worse, everyone here isn’t so sure about staying. I can see the longing in the eyes of plenty of the villagers when they're reminded of what the city has to offer them. Things they just don't have access to here, like enough food, healthcare, and plain old physical security, just to name a few. It's truly ridiculous to stay.

  I can understand the allure of "having their own place," but only if they can sustain that place. Otherwise it's just a place they've chosen to wither away in. That's exactly what I fear this is. They clearly cannot take care of themselves here, cannot meet everyone's most rudimentary needs. Still, both Jackson and Elmer seem intent on not budging from the directive to remain. It makes absolutely no practical sense and makes me doubt if either of them are a good choice for leading these people.

  The mumbles and whispers that take over after the confrontation during the breakfast that Tessa went to great trouble to prepare don't sound all that optimistic. After all, I can't be the only one having these thoughts. The villagers themselves likely don't want to air their opinions around their dueling co-leaders.

  I sigh, focusing on my own breakfast as I wonder about how everything will work out. And if it will be peaceable or painful. There's no telling at this point which way it'll go. At least the morning has returned to relative normality again.

  I have that thought too soon. The conversations around me taper off until no one is talking. Is there another confrontation brewing already? I don't see anyone at each other's throats. And I don't hear any raised voices...

  The New Villagers directly in front of me are all staring in the same direction. Some of them have their mouths hanging open. A small piece of meat falls out of Tessa’s mouth, and she doesn’t even notice. The people at other tables are staring in the same direction, too.

  My eyes naturally find Bashir next, like I need to reassure myself with the sight of him. But his surprised expression doesn't calm me. It does the opposite.

  My stomach clenches and my heart beat speeds up as I slowly turn in the direction everyone is focused on. I'm moving in slow motion. Like that point in a horror movie when you just know it's going to be something bad, but you have to look anyway.

  "Oh...shit," I whisper under my breath, my eyes locking on the reason for the stunned silence.

  It's a...creature for lack of a better word. A huge creature. Maybe “monster” would be an appropriate term to use here. It must weigh at least a couple of tons, covered in leathery gray skin except for a mane of white hair just under its massive head, like a collar around its thick neck. It walks on all fours, its feet a mix between paws and an almost birdlike foot, with long sharp claws. The head isn't quite lizard-like, the muzzle too short to qualify. The teeth that are revealed by its slightly open mouth must be razor sharp.

  I have no idea what the hell that thing is. But I know by Bashir's reaction that it must be out of its natural habitat. Perhaps because of the storms, like the bird near the wall days ago?

  I guess the reason why doesn't matter so much right at that moment as the thing heads directly for the food on the breakfast tables.

  Bashir grabs his lochaber while we're all still staring in stunned silence. The roar he lets out snaps me out of my frozen state, while also drawing the thing's attention.

  Be careful!

  My heart is in my throat for a different reason now as every eye fixes on Bashir, where he comes to a standstill directly in front of the creature. His eyes meet the thing's pitch-black ones, his gaze strong and fearless. Time seems to freeze as we all take in the massive size difference between the creature and Bashir.

  Bashir should look ridiculous as he stands in front of the thing with his weapon, but something about his face, his defiance in the face of all that power...

  He doesn't look ridiculous at all. He looks fierce, like the warrior he is. His eyes dare the thing to try to go through him. His sudden appearance, combined with the loud war cry he uttered, even stops the creature. It looks unsure of itself for a moment, warring instincts telling it to both charge forward and to retreat. It likely isn't accustomed to other creatures showing no fear when faced with its massive size. Especially not one so small in comparison.

  I hold my breath, wondering if this is all it will take to get rid of it. If it will turn around and leave the village now. But that's too much to ask for.

  Its primary instincts click back into place, and it huffs out a harsh breath as it slinks forward again, powerful muscles moving smoothly under that hard-looking skin.

  Bashir is ready for the movement. Darting to the side, he slices at the back of one thick front leg before sprinting to the other side and doing the same there. The creature obviously wasn't
expecting that kind of attack, letting out a surprised shriek of its own as it falls to its knees in response.

  But that doesn't mean it isn't dangerous still. I cry out as it snaps those powerful jaws at Bashir, quick as a snake despite its bulk. Bashir leaps out of the way in the nick of time, his wings flaring to help.

  Unfortunately, the movement puts him directly in the way of the thing's thick tail. It knocks him out of the way, forcing Bashir to scramble to avoid the hind legs it then kicks out at him. There's no way a full hit from that thing won't do serious damage. I stand up, fear sinking its painful claws into me as Bashir pushes to his feet.

  He's a vision of determination, a sheen of sweat covering his tense muscles. He has to steady himself from the blow, but it takes him less time than I would have expected. Less than two seconds after, he's moving just as quickly as before, swiping fast and hard to knock out the creature's hind legs. Already struggling from the slices to its front legs, the thing throws back its head to roar while it tries to get back up without any luck.

  Bashir leaps onto its back and swings his blade high into the air, the sun glittering off the sharp edge, his wings spread wide for balance. It's a stunning sight. He brings the weapon down in a stabbing motion, the sharp tip plunging into the area just past the base of the thing's skull.

  A moment of hushed silence all around. The head falls forward limply. And, just like that, it's dead. The ground trembles as its weight falls.

  Bashir pulls his weapon out of the creature, the full length of the blade covered in dark blood as he stands on its back.

  It's dead, but...there's something wrong with Bashir. I sprint forward before anyone else starts to move, my concern rising as I see how dazed he looks, his eyes clouded.

  It's the Bijass.

  The fight must have reignited his instinctual, animalistic side. I stop at the creature's side, hoping it is really dead. Pushing that thought aside, I look up at Bashir.

  "Bashir," I call out softly, not wanting to startle him.

  He slowly turns to look down at me, a glimmer of something appearing in his eyes.

  "Bashir, come down," I try, adding a gesture for good measure. For a moment, I think I may not have gotten through to him. The Bijass can be all-encompassing. It's possible that—

  He leaps down in one graceful movement, landing in a half-crouch right next to me. I let out a startled squeak but stifle it quickly. I don't want to rile him up.

  "Come on, Bashir," I say in a calm, crooning voice, reaching out slowly to take his hand. He lets me even as his eyes drift over to the others watching. They narrow with suspicion. Uh oh. I need to get him away from all these people—right now.

  "Bashir," I say a little more sharply. He looks back over at me. "Come on—we're going back to our quarters. Okay?"

  As I talk, I start walking, tugging him along behind me. He follows easily enough, but every time I stop talking, his attention starts to wander. Dangerous. So I keep talking. I talk the whole way back, gesturing at everyone to get out of our way. I don't know what they'll do if he attacks. So I won't let him. The walk feels much longer than it is, my hold on Bashir's hand probably painfully tight though he doesn't react to it.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when we finally make it back to our building and I close us inside alone, until I realize now I need to figure out a way to bring him back to himself.

  I turn around to see Bashir watching me intently. It's really scary to look into his eyes and not see the same person looking back. I'm so used to his being the one in control, the one who is calm and reasonable. I'm going to have to be that person for him now. He needs me to be.

  "Bashir," I murmur, walking over to him with controlled movements. "Bashir, come back to me."

  I reach up to cup his face and something flickers in his eyes, but then drifts away again. Maybe if I touch him more? Sliding my fingers into his hair, I tug his head down far enough so I can place my lips against his. This has to work. I don't know what else to do. I've already talked his ear off. That didn't work to do anything but distract him.

  His lips are still against mine, so I kiss him slowly, my arms wrapping around his neck as I stretch up against his hard body. I'm starting to wonder if I need to try something else when I feel his body start to respond. Then his lips start to move against mine. Oh, good—

  I gasp as he suddenly picks me up with a growl and tosses me gently onto the bed.

  "Bashir!"

  He covers me in the next instant, his hips grinding against mine, his erection hard and pulsing even through our clothes—which don't last long. He yanks mine off before tearing off his own.

  Then his sparkling eyes are looking down on me as he pushes my thighs open and takes hold of my knees, lifting them up and apart. I can't look away from those intense eyes as his erection nudges against me. I’m already so wet and ready that he starts to slide in at the touch, his girth stretching me. I moan as he fills me, slowly and relentlessly pushing his entire length inside me, his gaze on my face the entire time. Then he starts to move. Long, deep thrusts, his jaw tight, his grip almost bruising as my own fingers dig into the bed on either side of me.

  I clench down on him as an orgasm hits me unexpectedly, my hands coming up to dig into his forearms. He brings my legs down so they're wrapped around his waist, leaning over me, his face still intent on mine. But his face is somehow softer now, his eyes clearer.

  "Bashir?" I ask, my hands sliding up to grip his broad shoulders. I've never seen him give in to his Bijass. Can I even bring him back?

  His gaze flickers, but he doesn't say anything, his rhythm increasing, the feel of him inside me making me arch up against him in response. I'm getting close again.

  I prop myself on my elbows and kiss the side of Bashir's neck, rub my face against his damp skin.

  "Come back to me, Bashir," I whisper into his ear. "I need you."

  His body shudders against me.

  "My treasure," he grates out of clenched teeth.

  I fall back down, my heart clenching with joy.

  "Yes," I agree, smiling up at him. "Yes, I'm your treasure."

  His eyes clear in front of mine, his gaze sharpening. Reaching between us, he rubs at me where we’re joined. In the next second, I'm coming again, my cry muffled by his mouth against mine, the kiss voracious, but tender in a way it wasn't while he was still not himself. With a moan of his own, he pushes deep inside me, bucking with his own release. I hold him as he trembles above me, so relieved I have to choke back some tears. Bashir is breathing deeply as he finally raises his head to look at me.

  "I am sorry," he whispers, searching my face. "I could not hold on..."

  "Shh." I kiss him softly, holding him tight. "It's okay."

  We stay there like that, wrapped in each other for some time. Needing the comfort, the closeness. After hours alone, Bashir finally stirs, ready to face the village again. This time when we leave, I keep my hand firmly in his when he tries to tug it away. He looks over at me, a questioning look in his eyes.

  "I don't care what they think about us being together. Let them deal with it," I growl.

  A flash of surprise, then a warm smile as he tightens his grip on me. But, as it turns out, I'm the one surprised.

  When we reach the square, most of the village is still outside. When they see him, they don't seem to care at all about what we were or weren't doing. They erupt into cheers!

  "Way to kick ass, Bashir!"

  "How the hell did you manage that?"

  "That was amazing!"

  Bashir looks as surprised as I do at the warm reception, then a little uncomfortable with the attention. He nods at everyone graciously, taking the pats on the back with a grain of salt as he leads the way over to the creature's body. It's still lying at the edge of the village, untouched.

  "I will dress the chatteron," Bashir announces, duty steadying him, getting him back onto even ground. "Now there is extra meat, so no more arguing over rations," he adds, smiling.


  Answering laughter erupts as he moves forward to deliver on that promise. It's taking him some effort to summon the energy to do so. The blows he took from the monster aren’t all that’s responsible for the heaviness of his trudging walk over to the carcass. There’s a shift in him, the distance he adopts as he switches to auto-pilot. He should be sleeping, but he won't do that.

  I suspect at least part of it is because he's ashamed he had such a difficult time reigning in the Bijass. Like he should be above it somehow. He'll keep going, keeping helping until we return to the Tribe.

  I admire his selflessness. But that doesn't mean I don't worry. He isn't a superhero, and he shouldn't feel like he has to act like one. The sad part of it is that he has no reason to feel ashamed in the first place. He used that natural instinct his kind need on this planet to survive, and he saved all of our lives with it. Maybe he thinks of the Bijass as primitive or brutish, but he needs it to survive. Because we weaker humans depend on the Zmaj, we need it too.

  Maybe it isn't perfect, but what is?

  The New Villagers are of the same mindset, completely won over by Bashir's heroic act. It's stupid that they needed such a spectacle to see how worthy a person Bashir is, but I'm glad for their change of heart all the same.

  I follow Bashir over to the beast and join in to help cut and process the meat from the creature that had ironically intended to have us for dinner.

  "What did you call this thing again?" I ask, grimacing as I cut into its tough hide with a long knife.

  I very consciously don't complain about the hours it will take to gather all of the meat from such a ridiculously big animal. If Bashir can kill it and then fight back the Bijass to find himself again, I can damn well help butcher the thing.

  "Chatteron," he repeats, a frown marring his forehead.