Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Sometimes I hate my brother. Most times, actually. How do we come from the same family? I slam the door shut and retreat inside, not wanting to pick a fight with my brother in front of all his friends. I know how that’ll end. I’ll lose, and if Boyd acts like he hates me, I’ll be fair game to any guy who wants to try his luck. But damn, it sucks to have to back down all the time.
A dragon. They’re trying to catch a dragon. They’re insane.
I think of Azar and his creepy, almost too-soft mannerisms and shake my head. I wish I was back at my gas station. Alone. I’m not sure if they really think this is going to work or if they’re just humoring Azar. Either way, I wish I wasn’t around to see it happen.
I spend most of the day reading a book in my room. It’s a romance, because Sasha’s so very into them, and I hope I see her again. Maybe we can talk about it if I ever get free from Boyd, Azar, and the others. I miss having female friends. Other than Sasha, I haven’t had any since the Rift. Boyd always kept us apart from everyone else in town, and Jack was a loner. For a brief time, it was nice to have a friend who I could chat with and who could understand the struggles of being a girl in the After. What it’s like. I’m turning pages in my book and wondering if Sasha’s noticed that I’m gone when I hear an ear-shattering roar.
I bolt upright in my bed, tossing the book to the floor. My heart thuds heavily, and I glance out the dirty window in my room. Something gold passes in front of the window, and I fling myself to the floor, panting in fear.
They wanted a dragon, and they got one.
Shit.
Weirdly enough, I don’t hear the guns going off. I guess it doesn’t matter—dragons can’t be hurt by guns. I pick up my knife, just because it feels terrifying to not have a weapon at hand, and move back toward the window.
Something heavy slams into the wall outside, and the building shakes. I peer out, trying to see, and in the next moment, I see a clawed foreleg move along the wall, and then a giant head descends. The dragon’s on the side of the building, and he’s trying to look inside.
Ten bucks says I know who he’s looking for.
Fuck fuck fuck. I fling aside the chair blockading my door and then race into the hall. The dragon lets out a roar, and the building shakes once more. Fear makes me sweat, and I wipe my palms on my jeans, desperately trying to think. Where can I hide? I head down the hall, trying to find the most secure place I can find. I know Sasha’s dragon didn’t hurt her, but I have no guarantees this one won’t hurt me.
I turn the corner and one of the nomads is there, waiting. It’s a guy named Tom, who’s got one missing tooth and one gold one and a scruffy beard. He lifts his chin at the sight of me and waves me forward. “Come on.”
Relieved that he’s going to show me to safety, I follow him…until I realize he’s trying to go down the stairwell. “We can’t go down—”
“We can, because you’re going to say hello to our dragon friend. Azar’s orders.”
“Wait, what? No! I—”
Tom pats his gun and gives me a stern look.
Fuck. “Why is everyone here so goddamn crazy?” I growl, and when Tom gives my shoulder a shove, I head down the stairs.
Death by dragon or death by gun. It’s not much of a choice. I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to run like a chicken when I push out the double doors of the hotel and into the sunlight. The dragon’s taken to the skies again, and I see his silhouette against the clouds as I shield my eyes and glance up.
“There she is. Bring her out here,” calls a familiar voice. Fucking Boyd. Why is it my brother who’s constantly trying to hand me off to someone dangerous? He’s like a plague on my ass. I’ve got to get away from him and this place. Not “someday.” Soon. Like tonight. It doesn’t matter if they come after me—if they’re sending dragons in my direction, I’m not going to live long anyhow.
Provided I live past this at all.
But the dragon isn’t attacking. It’s the weirdest thing. He circles overhead, and I’m shaking as I step forward into the courtyard. Boyd and the others have on helmets and flak jackets, guns at hand, but they’re not being attacked, either.
The dragon circles overhead again.
“She smells like perfume,” someone comments, nudging me forward another few steps with the end of his gun. “Anyone got a washcloth?”