And that’s the problem. Am I falling into old habits?
When the Arcav invaded, a tiny part of me hoped that I’d be an Arcav mate. That someone would save me from the torment. From the endless violation of restraining orders and constant, gut-twisting fear. When I tested negative, I sobbed in the bathroom, wishing I had a way out of my life. That I could just leave Earth behind.
I was considering applying to travel to Arcavia for work. To settle on the planet.
And then I watched as Harlow, the Arcav king’s mate, ran. Just like I did. How she fought back and was taken to Arcavia anyway.
I destroyed my application form—which I’d had to purchase on the black market. It was only when I saw how in love they were, how the Arcav king bent, how he changed the laws, how he listened and gave human women back their rights that I regretted my decision.
And then Ben found me again, and the cops in Austin told me to file a different type of restraining order.
They don’t tell you that those restraining orders are going to really piss off your abuser—and that if you’re going to get one, you also need a backup plan so you can run like hell. They don’t tell you how many women end up dead anyway, the restraining orders they counted on to protect them tucked away in their purses or shoved into drawers.
They don’t tell you that if he ever strangles you—if he ever gets enraged enough that he’s trying to choke the very air from your lungs and you’re lucky enough to survive—the chances that he’ll kill you increase significantly.
I rub my throat, feeling his hands, huge and strong, around me, cutting off my air. I get to my feet, forcing myself to take deep breaths. For the first time, I have a chance to process, a chance to look back on the last few years.
I was able run because I had no ties. My parents were dead, and I had no kids. So I was able to move every time I felt someone watching. Every time I realized he’d hired another private investigator to find me.
It’s sheer luck that I’m alive.
What if I…didn’t go back?
What am I returning to anyway? A life of living in my car, shaking awake through nightmares, and constantly looking over my shoulder.
I push the thought away. And what would I do on this planet? Dragix will get bored of me eventually. I’m the shiny new thing he has to play with, the pet that drew his attention. We both know that I’ll be dead in decades compared to his centuries.
Maybe…maybe if I can talk to the other women, I can see what they’re doing here. They must have some way to support themselves. I could work, cook, clean, whatever I need to do.
Dragix’s scales flash through my mind. Armor, Dragix said. If I got desperate, I could sell them.
The thought is abhorrent, and I instantly reject it. If I leave Dragix, there’s no way I can give up the small pieces of him I’ll have left.
Don’t be an idiot, Charlie. You’ll do whatever it takes to survive. Like you always do.
Dragix
I shudder with pain as I fly toward my mountain. A trap. The Zintas marching on my territory had been a trap, a way to distract me while the creatures hiding in the trees attacked. They were covered in mud to dull their scents, and it took me too long to realize that their arrows were coming from every direction.
A large portion of my territory is now little more than ash.
As are the Zintas.
They were well armed, however. My wings are torn, injuries that will take at least a day to mend even with my unique healing abilities.
Dizziness overtakes me, and my blood drops through the air like rain. I fight against the urge to close my eyes. If I fall, I will be completely vulnerable to any creatures who come across my unconscious body.
Charlie is waiting on my mountain, pacing. As I get closer, she turns, hands on her hips, shock clear on her face as I approach.
My landing is sloppy, my wings no longer able to support my wait.
“Move!” I order, terror shooting through me at the thought of landing on top of her.
She leaps out of the way, and I crash with a thump that makes my mountain shake.
“Oh God, oh God, Dragix, are you okay? Jesus, there’s so much blood.”
“I am…fine.”
My voice sounds weak, even to me, and I snarl. Never should a male of my species show weakness. But those are Charlie’s cool hands on my snout, Charlie’s deep-blue eyes on mine.
“Shift back,” she orders me shakily. She glances over her shoulder as Maez arrives, out of breath. She runs to my side, her face shocked.
Charlie leans closer, her eyes wild. “Shift before you pass out, Dragix. We can’t help you properly in this form.”
I reach for the shift. And it’s agonizing. Pain rips through my body as I shift around the arrows stuck into me. Some of them fall, torn from my skin, yet still more remain.
“What do we do?” Charlie’s voice is panicked.
“We must remove the arrows,” Maez replies. “Once they are no longer in his body, he will be able to quickly heal the wounds.”
Maez leans over me, her expression grim. “You will need to prepare yourself.”
Charlie is shaking next to me. “How can I help?”
I take her hand, pulling her close. Her worried gaze meets mine. “Maez will do it.”
“Stay close to him,” Maez tells her. “Make sure he can breathe in your scent as I work.”
I shift my attention to Maez and see the awareness in her eyes. She knows. Knows that my dragon has almost mated with the two-leg. That the most basic primitive part of me will be reassured by Charlie’s scent and that it will prevent me from shifting and ripping Maez apart when she causes me even more pain.
“Look at me,” Charlie
