An image of a crimson dragon gliding through the clear night sky flashes before my eyes. He’s truly majestic with the pale moonlight showing through his gossamer wings. He seems to glide along, enjoying himself for an endless age.
Suddenly, one huge dragon eye spies a form moving about in the lake down below. Somehow, I know the swimming figure is me. I can see my pale body cutting through the water, long dark hair trailing in a long stream behind me. In the dream, I don’t see the determined dragon coming.
I try to shout a warning, but nothing comes out. The dreamscape is a strange place that defies the laws of nature. One minute I’m looking down from above, and the next, cool is water lapping against my skin as I swim. A low, deep roar splits the air. I look up just in time to see the huge creature bearing down on me. Unlike in real life, the advanced notice gives me time to get away. Diving deep to get away from him, I’m thrilled at my ability to avoid capture. Looking up, I see a huge dark shadow drifting silently across the top of the water. Somehow, I’m breathing under water and my legs have turned into two long fins. I twirl through the water, giggling and happy, as I make my escape.
Waking the next morning to the clanking of the outer door being opened, I’m disappointed to find that it was all a dream. I’ve been captured by the dragon and my legs are still long, delicate limbs that can’t take me any further than the bars will allow.
Rubbing my eyes, I frown, realizing it’s the Drakon captain again. Trying not to act cross, I attempt a demure smile. His gaze turns suspicious. Damn, I’m not a morning person. Quickly running my fingers through my hair, I try to pull myself together.
The dragon freezes as he watches me handle my hair. I take my time, working the tangles out gently. I make a production of stretching, being sure to turn so he can see my breasts. If our last two encounters were any indication, he’s definitely a breast kind of guy. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as I make a production of throwing my blanket off and sliding my legs over the side of the bed. My cheap, tattered costume designed for seduction leaves very little to the imagination.
“Good morning, Tarion of the Hielsrane.” He smiles slightly when I speak his name that way, clearly pleased that I am respectful of Drakon traditions.
“I brought you more bedding, so that you might create a more comfortable nest.”
Feeling pretty certain that nest means bed, I reach out and grab each folded blanket as he shoves them through the bars. He loiters around making small talk, which in turn makes me suspicious of his motivations. It’s often difficult to tell what he’s thinking from his expression. He wears what my mother referred to as a poker face, one that’s devoid of emotion.
The funny thing is, he keeps coming day after day. He brings me nice things to eat, a comb and even a set of long picks to hold my hair up. I don’t have to reason out why he never brings me clothing. It’s because the creep likes seeing all the skin my skimpy harlot’s costume provides. I know this because of the way he stares at my body. Each time he comes, we talk, and I try to be engaging. Sometimes we talk so much, time gets away from us.
As always, I’m awake, refreshed and ready to spend time with him when he arrives. Since time has no meaning when you’re locked away in a place like this, I count my abductor’s visits instead of days. This is visit number nineteen, and he’s carrying a tall stack of round metal containers in one hand when he enters the room. They’re all clipped together with a handle on the top. Since eating utensils are stuck to the side and it smells delicious, I assume it’s food. Yep, he’s on a mission to plump me up.
He reaches that through the bars, his face totally blank. Unless I miss my guess, he regrets being so open about his childhood during our first conversation and has been overcompensating by hardly talking about himself. Over the last couple weeks, I’ve regaled him with tales of my slavery at the hands of different species as well as my travels around the galaxy. He’s always alert and interested in me, but I have a gut feeling there is more than meets the eye is going on with him.
“What’s all this?” It’s nearly as tall as I am. I can feel that the top one is warm.
“I had my cook create some of the foods my sire’s human likes best, feeling certain that you will find something you like.”
“Wow, what a thoughtful gesture. Will you eat with me?”
Rather than answer, he drops to his knees and sits in front of my cell with his tail curled into his lap. Instead of tight against his back, his wings are spread out in a relaxed position on either side of his muscular shoulders.
It only takes me a second to figure out how the clasps work. Taking off a stack of three, I sit in front of him. Pulling off the top of the first one, I peer inside. “It looks like steamed vegetables.”
“Try a bite. If you do not enjoy the taste, I will relieve you of the obligation of eating them.”
He seems more comfortable around me and today he’s in an especially good mood. He seems more relaxed, almost playful. It’s a good look for him. Grinning at him in spite of myself, I reply pleasantly, “That’s real sweet of you.”
I grab a magnetic eating utensil from the side of the stack and
