Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I'm not laughing when the dragons fill the skies and the alarms fill the air of the city.
It's the wrong day for dragons, and that worries me a little. I have the attacks (which always follow a pattern) marked on an old calendar, and plan my days around them, as everyone in Fort Dallas does. We know when the alarms sound, that it's time to take cover. In the end, it doesn't matter that it's the wrong day. The moment the alarms blare over the fort, I spring into action.
I shut the doors of the clinic to protect my precious medications and equipment from dragon fire. I don't lock the doors, because dragons can't use doors anyhow, and someone else might need shelter. Once they're secured, I hide inside a metal filing cabinet that will protect me from the worst of the flames, a blanket covering my shoulders and head. I huddle inside, and I wait. I wait for the smell of burning things, the screams, and the inevitable knowledge that my clinic will be filled to overflowing once more, and I won't be able to save everyone or ease their pain.
To distract myself, I go over my supplies mentally. My bandages and gauze stockpile are low, but I boiled some rags and tore them into strips and saved them in a plastic bag, so they should be more or less sterile. My aloe vera supplies are low, as are my ibuprofen and naproxen. The best I'm going to be able to do is to put cool water in bowls or buckets and have people dunk the affected limbs to ease the burning. If someone comes in burned beyond saving…well, I've got a medication for that, too.
I'm so busy with my mental plans that I don't notice all is quiet until the door to the clinic opens.
Going still, I edge one door of the cabinet open and peer out.
It's Azar, looking healthier than when he left.
In a way, I'm surprised and not surprised at the same time. He’s a stranger that comes out of nowhere, with the same odd, pure-gold eyes like Claudia’s dragon-mate Kael. He pretends to be human, but to see him commanding a fleet of dragons? Everything clicks. I realize this as he swaggers into my clinic like he owns it, wearing a long, flowing coat made of pale leather. He's got a baseball cap over his head, but there's something about the lack of fear in his stance that cements things.
Azar isn't human. He’s been pretending to be and I’ve been ignoring the signs. The dragons attacking—he's responsible somehow.
Hate blooms in my heart as he moves toward the small desk where I keep my patient records in an old notebook. He picks it up and flicks through it, leaning against my desk. "I know you're in here, my pet. I can smell you."
Gritting my jaw, I step out of the cabinet and stand straight and tall, glaring at him. "You're not human, are you?"
He runs his hand down one page, touching my handwriting. "I am not. I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice. It seems that humans see what they want to see, rather than what's before their eyes." He smirks at me and closes my patient log, tossing it down on the table. "You are as lovely as ever. Did you miss me?"
"No," I bite out. "Did you bring those dragons here?"
Azar nods. "They're mine. I control them."
"Are you here to…destroy everyone?" I mentally imagine the chaos he's going to cause. My clinic isn't big enough, and I don't have the supplies. Oh god, this is going to be brutal. "Is that how you repay those that took you in and nursed you back to health?"
His mouth curls, hard and brittle. "Is that what you think? That I was completely helpless until you came and put your soft hands and rubbed your ointments onto my skin? That if you fed me your dreadful food—and your fort's food is dreadful, by the way—that I'd come to have gratitude for this place?" He laughs. "If anything, it's convinced me of the correctness of my actions more than ever."
"Actions?"
The smile he gives me is as cold as it is wide. "This place needs a ruler. I intend to take it over."
What?
I'm stunned into silence. Fort Dallas has gone through a bit of trouble recently, given that when Claudia mated with a dragon, he ended up eating the last mayor. There's been some jockeying with the militia that runs things as they try to figure out who should take his place. I steer clear of all of it because I know whoever is in charge, he's going to be a power-hungry ass. They all are. Each time leadership changes, I have to establish guidelines for running my clinic all over again.