The Dragon's Horde Page 6

  I better finish the bloody finances. My brain isn’t concentrating on finances right now; it’s too preoccupied with a tall, ginger-haired, blue-eyed dragon shifter. Thankfully, it’s Sunday, and that’s the only excuse I need to leave early.

  I feel sorry for the pen I’m strangling in my white knuckled grip. I never stress about much; I always keep to myself, but I can’t help but wonder why four dragon-shifters have turned up to find the “Dragons Gold”. It’s a stupid legend that the town thrives on during the summer months so that the children pan for fake gold for Christ’s sake!

  I give up with the finances, the dragons, the fake bloody gold, and in response, bang my head on the desk in front of me.

  Dragons. Bang. Gold. Bang. Finances. Bang. Fake Gold. Bang.

  But Finn had an odd reaction to me. Did Finn seem slightly interested in me? I stop ridding myself of brain cells for a second. Did he? I can’t remember. I was too busy being concerned with the idea that a bloke was buying books from the damn dirty section. I’m not being stereotypical. Blokes can read the dirty smut. I’d personally be worried if he went straight to Fifty Shades of Grey. That book is so highly unrealistic in this modern age. Who’s a CEO who falls in love with a random girl and buys her first edition novels? I can barely afford food for Lucius and myself. Then again, I wouldn’t jump into bed with a guy who will tie me up just for some first editions. I have some standards.

  Then again, I still wouldn’t have pictured a man like Finn walking in and going straight to that section in the bookstore. Finn looks like a man’s man. One of the lads. It’s confusing. His build is lean, like a swimmer, but he has wide shoulders like a rugby player. His hand absolutely devoured mine when he held it, emphasising his size and his strength. His hair was ginger in tone, but instead of being a light brown, dull ginger colour, it was almost red, like a new lit flame. It lit up the shop as if it was its very own beacon, guiding the ships home from sea. He also has the darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a person. They look black from far away, giving his aura this very demonic flair.

  Don’t get poetic about a bloke, Remi.

  I’ve avoided the dragon shifter species for years. Pining after a male now, would just jeopardize my entire life here in Stonehold. Surely they’re not here for the dragon’s gold. Everyone knows the dragon’s gold doesn’t exist. Its a legend for Christ’s sake! It’s not even as famous as the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot or the Abominable Snowman. It’s. Not. That. Famous.

  I’m literally too stressed out to even think about finishing the remaining finances; however, if I want to get my raggedy ass out of this bookshop, I really should finish them. Not that I don’t love it, but my genuine reason is that its a Sunday and I don’t get many sales on a Sunday. Moving of their own accord, I approached my old worn out chair, an plonked my arse back down on it. Finances be damned, I’m finishing them. Then I’m running back home to fill Mika in on the visitors that the village has acquired.

  I’m slumped in a mood that I can’t get out of. As I’m sitting here finishing these number monsters, I realise that I’m sitting here playing the damsel, the woe-is-me character that I loathe in books. I’m normally putting myself in the same league as the kick-ass-and-take-names characters. The intellectuals, the book worms, the independent women! That’s me!

  As I chuck down my pencil, I push back from this torrid desk and get ready to go home. This whole situation with Finn is spiraling out of control. It’s not the spiraling I’m used to; I’m used to spiraling in The Wyvern’s Nest. Spiralling as in getting black out drunk without a care in the world. And that seems like a bloody great idea right about now.

  So with a new, far more achievable goal in mind, I shut the shop and make my way back down to my cottage. It feels like I’ve been gone for an hour or so, but with those finances keeping my mind occupied, I’ve killed about five hours worth of brain cells.

  My mind is wandering. As I’m walking back to my dinky cottage on the outskirts of the village. I’m confused by the intrusion of the dragons. Why are they here now? Dragon’s are naturally seclusive, and never stray from their lands. They don’t mingle with other supernaturals, deeming themselves to be higher than them. Which makes me nervous. Four dragons, looking for a non-existent treasure. It just doesn’t make sense. My rambling about the situation also doesn’t make sense. I don’t make sense. Damn it.

  Roughly halfway home is when it starts to rain. It begins with a light drizzle, something that doesn’t phase me in the slightest. A gentle pitter-patter of drops hit my shoulders, making my cardigan a little damp, but not wet. Raindrops hit the windows of the remaining shops and houses I pass by, but when I reach the edge of the village, less than five minutes away from home, nature begins its onslaught, opens the heavens and attempting to drown me.

  Fuck my life.

  Not wanting to subject myself to the coldest shower of all time, I start running back to the cottage. By the time I get there, I’m sure I’ll start resembling a human version of a drowned rat, but I’m stuck up a creek without a paddle here. Maybe next time I’ll do the sensible thing and wear a coat instead of a cardigan. Sigh. My Chucks are pounding the pavement underneath me and the puddles are sloshing, and making their criminal debut by breaking into my socks. I’m moments from my front door when I miscalculate one of my steps and slip into the biggest puddle I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Whipping my leg out of the offending puddle, I see that not only did it swallow one of my Chucks completely, but the wetness is also slowly travelling up my leggings. Great.

  Raising both hands to the sky, I give two middle fingers to anyone who is up there, and with a declaration so clear, it couldn’t be misinterpreted, “FUCK YOU RAIN!”

  With one waterlogged pant leg, a bundle of damp hair, and a cardigan that’s getting even more soaked by the minute. My day didn’t exactly start on a high note, but it’s only gotten worse. Jamming my key in the lock, I turn it and shove the door open with such unbridled strength that it swings on the hinges and hits the wall with a bang that could rival a clap of thunder.

  The fictitious thunder clap and my shadow in the doorway causes Mika to leap off the sofa like a cat that’s just been surprised with a cucumber. My dark silhouette in the doorway makes Mika scream like a banshee foreseeing a death, “Jesus Christ Remi, is that you?”

  As I make my way in, I slam the door behind me and head to my bedroom without greeting her. Unfortunately, she gets a good look at me as I pass and starts laughing uncontrollably.

  “Never thought I’d see your impersonation of a drowned rat Rem. My God”. She’s smacking her knee with such speed and her boisterous laugh has turned to silent chortling.

  Peeling my clothes from my skin feels as if I’m detaching an octopus from the side of a glass tank; its unforgiving and relentless in its attempt to cling to me. Throwing the clothes into the washing basket would mean leaving the wet clothes in my room, creating a damp smell so I’m deciding the bathroom floor is the best place for them until they can be transferred straight to the washing machine. I hate washing.

  Jumping into the shower quickly, I use my cherry scented shampoo and conditioner and wash my body with some apple body wash. I’m quick because this shower is a necessity rather than a luxury. I’m a hoarder by nature, and true to that, I also hoard water. And shampoo. And loofahs. I hoard it all.

  Jumping out and towelling off, I wrap my hair up and go to sit with Mika, who has finally finished laughing at me. As I drop down onto the sofa, I look at her, with my tell-all face. Her eyebrow arches slightly and her lips twitch at the corner. Two can play at this game.

  “So,” I pause, “how was it waking up with precious Winter, eh?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.

  Her eyes widen and she coughs slightly, her cheeks are coloured with pink. “Uh, how did you know about that?”

  Frowning at her, I scoff whilst throwing my hands up dramatically. “Mika, come on. Early this morning, you had blasted through multiple bottles of my vintage wine, were
dancing badly on my coffee table and Winter and I had to haul your butt into bed.”

  Her expression reads absolute mortification. Not sure why though, as this was a common occurrence - the bad dancing and excessive over-drinking. Hence why there’s black marks on the damn coffee table. Mika’s sober self and drunk self are two separate entities. Almost like a Jekyll-and-Hyde personality; however, I’m sure Mika doesn’t walk the streets in the middle of the night beating men to death with a walking stick. Nor does she have a hunch like Quasimodo.

  I’m reverting back to Disney songs, which is Mika’s fault, again. I can hear the songs from that movie swirling around my brain, distracting my attention span from Mika.

  A guy like you gets extra credit

  Because it’s true you’ve got a certain something more

  You’re aces, kid, you see that face, you don’t forget it

  Want something new? That’s you, for sure!

  Shaking my head to excuse Quasimodo from my head, I look back at Mika, who is less stricken by the events of last night. “I put you on the bed and Winter climbed in behind you and snuggled you”. I make the little heart symbol with my hands and little puppy dog eyes. Her sleeve covered hands lift to cover her face as she groans loudly. “You also were cuddled up under the duvet half-naked this morning” I add with a smirk.

  Her hands press into her eyes, rubbing them as if she’s trying to rid the memory from her eyeballs. “I’m very aware of that,” She muffles. “I couldn’t move Winter to get dressed so I pretended to be asleep when she left”.

  My mouth drops open with shock. “No. Way.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “You pretended to be asleep?” pause “You ignored Winter?” pause again “You basically invited Winter back for some of the good stuff and then you ignored her once you had your snuggle?” A shrill laugh escapes my lips before I can stop it.

  Mika grabs her knees and pulls them to her chest, hiding her head. I can’t stop myself, I’m laughing so hard that I slip off of the sofa and on to the floor, clutching my stomach. There’s tears in my eyes as Mika realises her grave mistake by ignoring Winter this morning.

  After a small amount of shuffling, Mika gets up and heads to the kettle; for tea obviously. Mika believes that tea cures most ailments and illnesses. I am sceptical, but I have been informed that Chamomile makes you fall asleep so... modern witchcraft, I guess.

  “So, how was work?” She shuffles back over, cup in hand. “Did you do those finances you’ve been putting off for months?” As she lifts her cup to her lips, she blows on the scalding hot liquid before taking a small sip. Her eyes flit up towards me, prompting me to answer her.

  Great way to avoid the topic in question. “Uh, yeah, I did the finances. The bookshop will live to fight another day.” she smiles over her cup, “but uh, I did have an unusual visitor.”

  An eyebrow lifts on her face, demonstrating her curiosity. We all know what happened to the cat, right? “Who was it?”

  Pushing up from the sofa, I go to the kitchen to fix Lucius’s lunch. “Uh-Uh, yeah, his name is Finn”. I pull the chicken out and start tearing it into small strips. “Finn huh? Cute name.” Mika’s face scrunches slightly, “Cute name for a male anyway.”

  I hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet on the floor and a soft shrill that sounds like a happy fox on the way. I pop his dish down on the mat and he scampers over without a care in the world. Stepping out of his way, I make my way back round to the sofa, looking at Mika. I can hear Lucius’ loud chomping from over here.

  “Yeah, that’s not the only thing...”

  “Hm?”

  “As he left, I smelled it.”

  “Smelled what?”

  “You know...”

  “Know what?”

  For fucks sake.

  I slap my palm against my head, groan and look back at her, my eyebrows knitting together. At this moment in time, Lucius runs over and jumps up between us on the sofa, expecting gentle head scratches to soothe his evil soul.

  “He smelled of smoke.” Her eyebrow lifts, so I carry on, “Smoke and ash.”

  Both eyebrows have lifted and her eyes are as big as saucers. “Shit.”

  “Mhmm, yep.” I lean back on the sofa, leaning my head on the back of it, staring at the ceiling. “He was tall, broad-shouldered, fiery-red ginger hair,” As I look back at her I sigh, “and he’s a dragon shifter.” I lift my arm to cover my eyes. “So he’s definitely off limits.”

  Mika barks out a laugh at me, mocking my inner turmoil. “You avoid men and dragons like no tomorrow, but the one person you like...” She sniffles and snorts, putting her cup down on the coffee table. “just happens to be both a male and a dragon-shifter? Hot damn girl, you hit the proverbial jackpot.”

  Yeah, jackpot alright. I’ve been avoiding dragon-shifters since I was exiled and I’ve been avoiding men because I didn’t want to tie myself down to someone who I could lose. I’d already lost everything I ever had; I didn’t want to lose it all again. I think Mika can see my worry, as it’s probably written all over my face.

  “Hey, so...” She cuddles up to me, pulling Lucius into her lap, and placing her hand on my shoulder, rubbing in circles, as if she is trying to calm me. “Why don’t we go out to The Wyvern’s tonight?”

  Excitement is radiating from her, which isn’t surprising. All of our best nights start at the The Wyvern’s Nest. We did try an experiment once, to see if a good story could start with a salad and discovered that, in fact, it can. If you get drunk afterwards.

  “We can go to The Wyvern, get drunk, and forget all about it.” She looks at me, “Good idea?”

  My smile answers her before my lips do, “that’s a great idea.”

  With my declaration, she puts Lucius down on the floor gently and runs to my spare room to get the rest of her stuff together. I, on the other hand, go to my room to get dressed into something more pub appropriate. Like skinny jeans, a hoodie, and some dry Chuck Taylors. I can hear the beer calling me from here.

  Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to the pub we go...

  The night darkens as we walk towards our favourite pub in the village. The moon overhead is full and I can hear the wolves nearby, basking in the light of their goddess, singing her songs to their people. Yips, barks, and yaps make it through the trees towards Mika and I. It’s a pleasant thing to hear; the sound of free wolves, roaming without restrictions or rules. The itch to shed this human skin is becoming unbearable, but I change in seclusion to keep my secret safe. Mika guards me as best as she can.

  We reach the doors of The Wyvern’s Nest and instead of using the handle to open the door like a normal human being, Mika uses her excuse of a shoe to kick the door in. The unfortunate bang makes the patrons look towards the entrance for some kind of trouble, the police or a bounty hunter. When they see our faces they smile and turn back to the conversations and their drinks.

  Mika all but drags me towards the bar where Eldevair waits with his signature scowl. Although he looks like he’s ready to murder the next customer he has to serve, his eyes turn to meet Mika. Considering we never order anything different in this bar, Mika smiles timidly at the big bad sidhe, and with that, he sighs and walks over to the draught pumps to pour our pints.

  Seizing the opportunity before me, I jump up onto a vacant barstool before anyone else does. Mika follows suit and nabs the one next to me before it’s whisked away. Our beers arrive moments later. I pay with cash for the both of us. Looking at us, you wouldn’t think we would belong in a pub. Mika with her complete goth emo look, and me looking like I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone else. I don’t look homeless, but I do look like I just chuck any old thing on. Which I do.

  “Shall we dance?” Mika looks at me expectantly. A normal night out involves dancing with Mika regularly to satisfy her urges. Though Mika dances like she has two left feet and no sense of rhythm. Raising the beer to my lips, I start to drink it. From my peripheral, I see Mika’s lips open - presumably to ask again if we should dance.
Before the words pass her lips, I hold up my finger and begin to chug in a very unladylike manner. Not that I’m a lady anyway.

  The glass smacks against the bar top as I finish and before I can raise the hand that I’m stopping Mika from talking with, Eldevair has placed another pint on a bar mat next to my empty glass. He removes this one, eyes Mika’s beer, which hasn’t moved, and shakes his head, muttering “I thought you were quicker than that” as he walks away.

  With a shared grin, Mika and I both bring our drinks to our lips and chug them in a race against the other. Our glasses hit the bar top at the same time, declaring it a draw. With two beers in my system, I’m more inclined to get up on the ‘dance floor’ and make a complete arse out of myself, just for Mika.

  Slipping off my stool, I head towards the ‘dance floor’, which is just a space at the back of the pub next to the pool table and the modern day jukebox. Hearing a clatter, I whip my head around and see Mika righting a stool that she knocked to the ground on her way over. I shake my head at the socially awkward tigress. Two left feet, check. Socially awkward, check. Loss of rhythm, check. She’s ticking all the boxes.

  Modern music is not my forté. I like some new music, but Mika knows all the good stuff. I never remember the names anymore. I wait for her at the jukebox as she walks up. I’ve already put some credits on, so she has all the opportunities to either make or break someone’s night. She’s skipping through the modern pop songs quicker than I can comprehend. The names and titles all blur together as I try to read them. She picks out a few quickly and, because no one else has any songs playing, they come on instantly. Most patrons normally expect some screamy, trashy rock music to come out; however, it’s music ‘straight off the charts’.