Alice's Dragon (The Challenge Series) (2 page)

She waved it over her head and whistled. Just like always, Rusty looked up, but this time his eyes glazed over.

“Woman, get the hell out of here,” the stranger hissed. “It’s gone past charming or whatever you call it.”

“You don’t know,” Alice said in a singsong voice. “Come on, Rusty. Time to go out to sea for some lunch.”

She moved backward, waving the torch back and forth. She’d learned to use the fire on her twelfth birthday and sent Rusty out to sea hundreds of times when the marine mammals swam close. He liked a nice baby whale or dolphin. Seafood kept him from the cows and sheep.

He blinked twice in quick succession, losing the hypnotic connection. When he blinked again, the whites of his eyes turned blood red. The stranger yelled and hurtled toward Rusty, but it was too late. The dragon’s teeth clamped on her arm, using it to lift her body from the ground.

Her feet flipped over her head and the world spun. She blacked out but was jerked back awake when she landed hard on the ground. The man in black shoved his sword through Rusty’s eye, the old beast falling limp. Alice knew a dragon’s brain dwelled close to the front of their head and was grateful the stranger did as well.

He turned to her and paled. Alice tried to push herself up and grew lightheaded once more. She’d once had two arms. She looked to her left side, a bloody stump. Now she had one.

Chapter Three

Bade pressed a cloth to the young woman’s forehead, her fever harsh and unrelenting. She’d fallen into a stupor shortly after he killed the dragon. Twenty hours later, she hadn’t come out of it.

“Looks like she’s on her way out,” the crone who’d led him to the dragon charmer’s home said. “I figured if anyone could survive tangling with a dragon, it would be Alice. She’s from cranky stock. The cranky birds tend to live longer.”

Soft blonde curls framed Alice’s face, and the high, full cheekbones spoke of youth—not a scowl line on her face to justify “cranky.” The freckles on her pert nose reminded him of sunshine. If she’d been in his homeland, she would have been pampered and adored—never put to pasture with danger.

“Why did your lord allow her to fight the dragon?” Bade would demand the answer from the lord if necessary. Once the young one woke. He would not leave her side before then.

“It’s her business. She’s a charmer. It’s in her line.” The old woman pushed to her feet. “I’m off. If she makes it through another night, she might wake up. She probably hit her head, though, so, who knows?”

He shot to his feet. “You’re not staying? Does she have any family?”

“Family? I don’t believe so. Alice is a loner, has been since her mother and gram died. Dragon charmers tend to be a solitary lot. You might as well stay here if you haven’t other lodging.”

He didn’t know how he felt about staying in the strange cottage much longer. While clean, it wasn’t his space. The one who owned it lay near death. If she died, he didn’t know the first thing to do or who to contact.

“You’ll be fine,” the old crone said. “I’ll come back in the morning. She’ll either be alive or dead then. No skin off my nose.”

Was everyone so callous on Isle Aden? Back home, people didn’t bend backward for others, but they didn’t leave their fellow citizens to die either. Not unless they’d stabbed them themselves.

He needed to get to business, but young Alice needed help. He didn’t know if she would make it, but while he waited to find out, he’d have a place to stay and a warm location for the eggs.

The old woman stepped out of the cottage, slamming the door behind her.

In the bed, Alice jumped. Bade rushed to her side, hoping for another sign of life, but found none. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She was lovely, but appearances could be deceiving. The crone’s attitude toward her, combined with the confrontational attitude she’d shown during the fight, made him wonder over her true temperament.

For now, it didn’t matter. He moved his pack closer to the fire and pulled out the heavy alabaster case. After aligning the lock pieces, he cracked it open. For creatures that grew so large, they started tiny. Slightly larger than doorknobs, the half dozen eggs in the box nestled close to each other, protected by the finest silk. His calculations said they could be born at any time, though they most likely needed another month.

As the eggs warmed, they began to sway. Left chilled for too long, they lost their signs of life, but the hearts of the six in the box still beat. At least for the time being. He stroked them, remembering their mother well. The dragoness had been the last in her line, a fearsome red who flew to great lengths to survive long enough to have her young. He’d taken charge of the little ones after she passed.

The great honor made him search out a land where all dragons in his care could grow like the fearsome red. The mountains of his land provided well for two, but even those flew for miles every day to get enough to eat. They needed to be where the sea life—large and plentiful—could be caught. The little ones had earned life by making it so far.

He closed the box and gazed toward the bed. Was the brazen young woman like the dragons? Fragile at the moment, but capable of greatness when given the chance? He dipped a towel in the cool water and ran it along her warm forehead. Alice deserved a chance, too.

Chapter Four

The rolling meadow inspired her. She loved long walks in the grass with weeds tickling her ankles. The sun beat down, making her sweat. Alice frowned and rubbed her hands over her face, chasing a horrid itch to no avail. She stumbled over a log and fell on her shoulder, screaming in agony.

“Alice, wake up.”

Something shook her, but her arm hurt too much to concentrate on whether it could be a threat or help.

“Open your damn eyes, woman.”

She lifted her eyelids and slammed them shut when the pain of the dream didn’t ebb.

“Easy, easy.” A deep, honey-smooth male voice comforted her. “Your shoulder is injured and I’m so sorry for it. It’s stitched and covered as well as possible, but it will hurt. Do you have alcohol or pain medication?”

“Wine.” Even the slight effort made her shoulder throb. “What happened?”

Compassion filled his dark gaze for a moment before he glanced around and hurried to the shelf where she kept spirits. “Do you remember the dragon?”

She frowned, wondering what Rusty had to with anything. The confrontation came back in a rush and her stomach rebelled. She hadn’t looked at her arm, despite the stranger’s mention of sewing and bandaging it. It must be damaged or hanging in a sling.

It was gone.

Her breaths came in harsh, wheezing gasps, her throat too narrow to grab air. Rusty had taken her arm, ripped it from the socket. She tried to move it like she had a million times and though she felt something, it didn’t magically reappear.

“Calm down,” the stranger ordered.

Through her blur of panic, she recognized the one from the field. He’d killed her dragon and saved her. But not all of her.

“Have a sip.” The man in black held the cup to her lips. “Were I to wake up with parts missing, I’d need a stiff drink, too. How’s the discomfort?”

She drank her wine, the good stuff she’d had Old Dan get for her last time he sailed to France. She’d stocked up, because he was too old to make the trip again. She hoped she had enough to get over the arm situation.

“The pain.” She took another sip, much more fortifying than the first. “Is like I’ve never experienced.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to intercede sooner—”

“Not your fault.” She sat back against her pillow. “I’d noticed the crazy in Rusty’s eyes for years, but I’d been able to distract him. It was only a matter of time before he snapped. I hoped he’d do it alone in his cave and brain himself.”

“Instead he took a bite of you with him.” The man winced. “I am sorry. Are you hungry? I made a stew.”

“Out of what?”

“This and that I found in your cupboards. I also bartered with the woman called Agnes from down the road for a few things.”

“Ugh.”

He cocked a brow. “Ugh? I’m afraid I don’t know that particular expression.”

“It means she most likely sold you a rotten chicken or skunk. The old bat hates me.”

He went back to stirring the stew, giving her a lovely view of his backside. Combined with the wine, she was able to ignore some of the throbbing.

“I assure you I have encountered my fair share of hateful bats in my life,” he said. “I bought a live chicken and checked it over first.”

Smart
. She never assumed people would act in an intelligent fashion. Such optimism always led to disappointment. She took another sip of wine, the warmth spreading through her body and dulling the sting. “What’s your name?”

He straightened and smiled at her. “I am called Bade Draco. I hail from Bulgaria.”

The center of dragon territory. She sat up too fast and cringed. His slaying ability made more sense if he came from the mountains the legends called the dragons’ home. “Why are you here?”

He shrugged. Fussing around the kitchen area, he took down bowls and utensils. “I heard it was a nice area.”

“Yeah, and I’m six feet tall,” she muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

She didn’t want him to go on the defensive or do something rational, like leave her alone to go on to his own business, at least not while he held stew that smelled like simmered root veggies and sautéed chicken.

“Um, yes, I agreed with you. Isle Aden is quite lovely.”

He sat beside her and crinkled his nose before handing her a spoon. She frowned from the bowl to the utensil and figured she could make it work. She ate with her right hand all the time. Though her muscles shook, she lifted the spoon to her mouth. ”How long was I asleep, anyway?”

“You were out for three days,” Bade said, his accent giving the simple words a new flavor. “You’ll be weak, so eat slowly.”

Weak
didn’t quite cover how she felt, but after a few awkward bites she felt better than when she woke. She set the spoon down and shook her head when he offered it again.

“You need more.” He frowned and tucked the wooden utensil between her fingers. “You’ve lost too much blood and not had enough nourishment to replace it.”

Giving him an obscene gesture crossed her mind, but she figured he wouldn’t understand it anyway, so instead took another bite. “Did you know your accent gets thicker when you’re bossy?”

“Did you know you’re always difficult? Even in your sleep, you kicked away blankets on the coolest nights. Tell me about your work with dragons.”

Bade scooted his chair closer and settled, keeping the stew within her easy reach. He had a mouth on him, but she liked the way he used it.

“Dragon charming is a way of life in my family. It has been for more generations than I can count. The women perfected it and, until very recently, it kept me in chicken and wine.”

“Tell me about charming.”

She shrugged, and the stew curdled in her stomach. The utensil dropped from her grasp. She didn’t have a job. She didn’t have an arm. She didn’t have a dragon.

“There, there.” Bade’s deep voice offered comfort and a beacon through the storm brewing in her mind. “You’ve had a tough few days. You need to breathe and keep the food down so you can heal.”

“Why heal? There’s nothing for me. Not anymore.” Tears gathered, burning her eyes. “No more Rusty to charm. No more money to make. Nothing. I don’t even have both arms to attempt a new occupation. I should have died.”

He held her hand as he shushed her and muttered some gibberish. She tore her hand away from his and in her haste slammed her shoulder against the wall. Darkness closed in as pain overwhelmed her. At least she didn’t puke.

Chapter Five

The eggs rocked in his warm palms. They grew more playful every day. Bade covered them with a clean towel and patted each. They’d be wonderful creatures soon, maybe sooner than he’d thought. Isle Aden offered a future for the beasts in a world no longer made for them.

On the bed across the room, another creature in similar straits stared off into the corner. He didn’t worry she’d peek in his box or ask questions. After their first conversation, she’d slipped into a state of shock. He liked her fire and wanted to know more about her experiences, but she didn’t respond to his questions.

If they could work together, they could repopulate the dragon species, or at least give the line another generation. He could do it by himself, but preferred the idea of a partner after so many years alone.

In his homeland, the beasts kept him busy in remote locations for months at a time. Women required more than he’d had to give. Besides, he’d been little more than a shepherd. Despite his noble blood, his passion for nature made him an abnormality. His parents didn’t understand, but since they had his several older brothers and a dozen younger sisters to deal with, they let him be.

Alice already held affection for the flying creatures. That put her on a level beyond any woman he’d ever encountered. If she were able to get past her trauma and join him on his quest, he believed they’d do well. Their personalities might clash, but he found her attractive and challenging.

“I need to find the lord of the island,” Bade said, sure she could hear him even if she no longer responded. “Do you need anything while I am out?”

She turned her head toward him but didn’t speak. He thought he saw a spark of interest but couldn’t be sure. He would hope.

“I shall return shortly to make you dinner. You will eat it.”

He’d fed her the night before, giving her bites of stew until he felt she’d eaten enough. The anger in her eyes then gave him hope she’d find her voice soon. He strove for patience, trying to put himself in her shoes. If he’d been disfigured, he would struggle. Alice still had much to learn and recover from. He’d help her, if she allowed him to.

She didn’t acknowledge his announcement. He shrugged and grabbed his cloak, leaving his precious cargo near the fire. With Alice in bed, the eggs were plenty safe from curious hands shaking or handling them.