Sensual Sentient ♥ Episode 3

BadJack2

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Bad Jack

“That wasn’t rock climbing,” Blake grit out two hours later, when they finally reached the top of the cliff. Hauling himself over the ledge, he anchored the lead and started helping everyone else. “That was a goddamn expedition.”

Sida kept her pussy comment to herself, knowing he’d just counter with something like: “you offering?” He always had an inappropriate comeback. While most people needed inspiration or opportunity for their minds to slide into the gutter, Blake’s owned real estate there.

“Holy stars,” Ketha exhaled, when Blake helped her over the edge first.

Once everyone was topside, they detached their harnesses and took a moment to drink in the sheer megalithic size of the deserted city. Every building, statue, fountain and pillar put them right into familiar territory. It was unnerving. Sida’s gaze followed the cracked remnants of a toppled column about twenty yards ahead and to their left, completely blocking their path. She nearly ordered everyone to put their climbing gear back on, since that might be the only way to get over it.

“And it’s still a long way to the summit,” Blake exhaled, his gaze rising to the top of the tallest stepped pyramid in the distance.

“Bad Jack,” Sida snapped at him. “No more magic beans for you.”

He chuckled, rolling his shoulder with equal parts unease and determination. “And here I thought space was the only thing left to make us feel small and insignificant,” he remarked, before flashing that hidden grin at her again. “Guess next time you’ll take the bottom like a good girl.”

Sida patted the butt of her rifle, which was still on her favorite setting despite the engaged safety. “You wanna be the bastard, Yarring?”

Blake snorted. “Cap, I’ve never not been the bastard.”

“You keep giving me reasons to agree with you, it’s going to confuse the hell out of our crew,” she warned.

“There seems to be an actual source of vegetation up here,” Isiah interrupted, too used to their banter to be fazed.

“Just keep an eye on the mine shaft below, let me know when we reach the heart of the city,” Sida ordered. “We won’t find any answers until we can clear this road block, though, so let’s get a move on.”

“I thought the Maya had the whole stairway to heaven thing in the bag,” Ketha muttered, when they reached the downed column.

Due to its massive circumference and smooth surface, they really only had two choices; either bust their way through it or waste several hours walking around it. It was a tough call for a group of scientists. Fortunately, while Sida was still contemplating, they came across a section that was already partially broken and crumbling. It took little effort to carefully blast their way through just the already damaged area by using a relatively weak setting on their rifles. Pausing on the other side, Sida snatched Blake’s binoculars from his vest to get a closer look at the city, now that the view was completely unobstructed.

“Commander, I see glyphs,” she grinned.

“On it,” he reciprocated, running ahead.

“Ensign, where are we in relation to the mine now?”

“Higher than before,” Darling answered. “There’s definitely a steady sloping grade from the surface to the lowest point in the mine, which is the bend. From there to the entrance, it’s almost completely flat.”

Sida hooked the binoculars on her belt and looked around. “That doesn’t make any goddamn sense. A single shaft well should indicate a Qanat system, but there’s only one access point and it’s at the highest elevation, not the lowest. Unless they had gravity-defying water, I think we need to find more evidence behind the true purpose for this mine.”

“I agree. Another three klicks and we’ll be at the city center, Captain,” he replied.

“Good, any readings on what kind of ore we might otherwise be dealing with?” she asked.

“I’ve got trace amounts of the usual recipe, but nothing concrete. We’ll have to dig into deeper sediments for samples.”

“There should be aqueducts,” Sida noted aloud a moment later. “Every civilization had advanced water systems in place by the time they were building cities of this magnitude. They had rain basins, diverted rivers, something to bring fresh water to the citizens.”

Minnows glanced over her shoulder, though they could no longer see the ledge. “That trench could have been a river at one time, which might explain why only part of the city caved in.”

Sida nodded in agreement, though none of them had seen any evidence of that from below. There would be natural markers, different levels of sediment lining the cliff walls like artwork from the water slowly drying up over time. Unless it evaporated all at once. That was an eerie thought, but then so was the very Earthling-like city they were marching toward.

“Or, perhaps water hadn’t been a necessary part of their diet,” Isiah suggested. “It’s kind of sad when you think about it.”

“Then don’t,” Sida suggested.

“Can you imagine our planet dying before we’d even made it out of the iron age?” he persisted.

“Yet, he does it anyway,” Sida grumbled to herself. “Yarring, what have you got for me?”

“Obviously, they made it off this planet, so logically, they were far more advanced than we ever were during our iron age,” Ketha debated with Isiah.

Sida rolled her eyes. “Commander!”

Why did she always get stuck with the kids, while he went to play in the rubble? Something was seriously wrong with that setup.

“You guys aren’t going to believe what I’m looking at,” Blake’s voice finally came through the comm links in their mini-masks. “These NTs…they’re humanoid.”

“Yarring, have you ever seen the Bremm?” she scoffed. “Ogres would be considered more humanoid.”

“These aren’t Bremm, Cap,” he returned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was staring at the tomb walls of one of our own ancient sites. I’m seeing similarities to all of them. They kept record of everything in the same fashion, too. Farming, fishing, ceremonies, battles…wait–”

“Commander?” Sida prompted, when several moments of silence ticked by.

“Shh.”

Sida arched a brow. He did not just shush her.

“I found the city center events,” he finally spoke again.

“And?” she snapped.

“There’s some kind of procession, NTs climbing onto a platform from an underground chamber right in the heart of the… fucking Christ,” he cut himself off. “It’s an auction block, the bastards were slavers. There’s something extremely off about these glyphs, Captain. Not only are the slaves also humanoid, they’re depicted as being much larger than the citizens.”

“Define much larger,” she replied, peering around at the ginormous city.

“A whole other race kind of larger,” he answered. “And judging by the monoliths used to construct these megaliths, I wouldn’t be shy about labeling them giants.”

“Starblood,” Sida said, looking at Isiah. “Any trace?”

“Not on the surface,” he answered, eyes a little wide. “Giants, Captain? They enslaved giants to build all of this?”

“Yeah, I think they did,” Blake answered for her.

“So much for your advanced theory, Lieutenant,” Isiah remarked to Ketha. “If we find Starblood, no one left this planet by ship.”

“We need to get into that mine,” Sida intervened firmly. “I prefer my facts to be of the non-speculative variety. Why don’t we have a reading on this supposed chamber under the city?”

“I’m not showing any cavities other than the mine, itself, which abruptly stops about a hundred yards below the surface,” Darling confirmed.

“Could have been a cave-in,” Minnows suggested, pointing to the crumbled roads. “These aren’t exactly Imperial quality.”

By the time they reached the city center, Blake was just meeting up with them. “I didn’t find anything depicting the Bremm and I’m really starting to doubt they were ever here. Maybe this isn’t Molta Cremyss, after all, but a completely unknown planet. None of the glyphs I found are pointing toward the apocalyptic event that caused everyone to abandon the home world, but I’m willing to bet all of my gambling debts there’s a lot more where those came from.”

“That’s a lot of negative credit, Commander,” Sida smirked, reluctantly amused.

“I’m a giving man, Cap,” he shrugged. “We need to find their version of a Valley of the Kings.”

“Assuming they buried their dead,” Ketha interjected. “Many ancient civilizations used funeral pyres.”

“I love how scientists are always looking on the bright side of things,” Sida grinned. “Darling, run a perimeter scan fifty yards out and see if you find anything interesting.”

“Got it, Captain.” He didn’t get far, before he was waving them over. “Hey, look at this.”

They all approached the broken, rectangular pattern he was dusting off in the rocky dirt. Crouching at various sections, they all started doing the same, revealing a kind of lip about fifty-five yards long and twenty yards wide.

“This was the auction block,” Blake stated first, studying it more carefully. “Or at least the foundation of it.”

“Which means, this had to be where the entrance to the underground chamber was,” Sida pointed to a large area of the ground that bowled toward the center. “Looks like cave-in wins the pool. Good call, Minnows.”

“If that led to the chamber, and its somehow connected to the mine shaft, we could be looking at trouble,” Blake swore under his breath. “What do you want to do now, Cap?”

It was another tough decision. They were already topside, had spent two hours getting there and another making it to the city center, yet the chance of there being Starblood underground pulled at her.

“What we always do, Commander,” Sida decided. “Find the door to the next planet. Back to base, crew.”

Rising to her feet, Sida peered around the city of ruins once more, suppressing the desire to say the hell with protocol and go racing right into every building, turn over every stone, and learn everything she could about the NTs who’d lived there, because the similarities to Earth couldn’t be ignored. They could very well be standing right in the middle of a missing link in their own evolution. Their own origins. To say she was intrigued was a cosmic understatement. She wanted answers five minutes ago.

First, they needed to solve the mystery of the mine.

Thank you for reading! If you’re just tuning in, check out The Wicked Web link on the menu above for previous episodes. Until next time…

Sensual Sentient ♥ Episode 2

StepPyramidRuins

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Surprise

Sida stared across the barren wasteland of a long-forgotten planet, her hazel eyes squinting slightly against the stagnant particles of dust. Thanks to modeling the NISS helmet, strands of strawberry blond hair had pulled free from the braid wrapped halfway around her head. She brushed them away from her face and sighed, resigned to her ongoing mission. Turning, she saluted the lecture hall of cadets one last time, before lifting her rifle and pointing it right at them. Rather than penetrating the entrance she’d just climbed through, the shot dispersed like it hit a solid wall and started frying the World Opening out of existence. The small window to Earth shrank in on itself, leaving charred marks on the small rocky hillside.

The sound of boots scraping rubble and scattering loose pebbles had her twisting at the hips. In a blink, her rifle was aimed between the eyes of the intruder, her finger switching the stream from harmless to ‘Fry the Bastards,’ her personal favorite.

“Captain,” Blake Yarring, her First in Command greeted with his usual cocky smirk hidden behind a mini-mask, not in the least intimidated by her itchy trigger finger.

Sida lowered the barrel, until it was his crotch in the crosshairs of her scope, though she never took her eyes off his face.

“Hey, if you wanted another close up,” he offered, his voice slightly digital through the comm link.

When he held up the extra mask and waved it back and forth, she powered down her rifle, propped it on her shoulder and waltzed up to him, like she had all the oxygen in the world to spare. Blake didn’t hesitate to secure the mask over the lower half of her face, when she stopped. The moment the oxygen kicked on and she could breathe normally again, she blew him a kiss and kept walking.

“Tell me you found something on this godforsaken rock in my absence,” she demanded, once he fell into step beside her.

“What, and ruin the surprise?”

Sida gave him a narrowed sideways glance, keeping the spark of excitement to herself for now. She knew the man inside and out. He wouldn’t lead her on about a mission. If he was insinuating they’d found something, they had. Sida merely hoped it was the evidence they needed to officially declare the dead planet as the missing link in Bremm history, so they could move on. She was more than ready for a change of scenery.

“You know, I’ve never seen anyone take time out of a mission to give a lecture a billion light years away before,” Blake commented. “But, you have to admit it’s pretty bad ass that you’re an actual subject of study at NASE.”

“I find it offensive,” she countered, believing herself far too young and alive to be the subject of study anywhere.

“Yet, you do it anyway.”

“I find you offensive, too,” she pointed out.

“Har,” he smirked blandly, before perking up. “Speaking of doing me, have I ever told you how much your cranky side turns me on?”

“Vrolesian heart ticks turn you on, Blake, that’s not exactly praise, so what are you buttering me up for?” Sida paused.

“Nothing, swear,” he held his hands up, sulking. “It’s just been… I mean I can’t even put a time frame on it without a calendar–”

Making sure her eye roll was profound, Sida continued onward. “How about you reveal this grand surprise to me, before I decide to drop your ass off at the nearest Mrelin colony. You’ll get plenty of action there.”

Mrelins had a taste for Earthling flesh, but they particularly enjoyed Earthling males for all their other appetites, before eating them. Again, Blake was unconcerned. Ugh, it was so annoying trying to threaten someone who knew their own damn worth. Blake didn’t say a word, as they continued toward the edge of the rise they’d been traversing. The moment they crested it, he no longer needed to.

“Eyes,” she demanded, accepting the binoculars he held out for her.

Across a fifty yard trench that looked more like the remnants of an abandoned rock quarry, stood a two-mile high jagged cliff topped by the ruins of an ancient metropolis. The air felt tight in Sida’s lungs, and it had nothing to do with the planet’s low oxygen levels.

“Are those step pyramids I’m staring at, Yarring?” she asked in disbelief.

“Sure looks that way, doesn’t it?” he replied. “Yet we’re on the fringes of the Cremylaean Galaxy and according to all of our data, and what we know of their history, this should be Molta Cremyss, the oldest planet with Bremm origins.”

“That’s not Bremm architecture, Blake,” she exhaled tightly. “It’s ours.”

The rubble they carefully picked their way across once they reached the valley floor, was more than just rock. Taking the massive amounts of debris lying across the trench and stacked against the base of the cliff up ahead, it was easy to determine that a cave-in had brought part of that city down at some point. Natural disaster was in the top five causes for city abandonment, but they wouldn’t know anything conclusive until they got topside to investigate.

They found the rest of their field team near a crude opening in the cliff wall, far to the right and partially camouflaged by natural piles of rubble. There was evidence it had originally been hacked away at with metal tools, but the elements had smoothed the roughness over time.

“This had to have been exposed to weather conditions prior to the planet’s loss of vegetation,” Sida remarked.

“Agreed,” Blake nodded.

“Captain,” her two other crew members greeted in off-key unison.

“How was Earth?” Lt. Ketha Minnows asked.

“Crowded,” she nipped the questioning in the bud, before it could get out of hand. “Tell me what we’ve found. Where does this cave lead and did it contribute to the landslide?”

“It’s not a cave, Captain,” Ensign Isiah Darling informed her, dropping a roll of thick material on the ground and kicking it open to reveal the contents. “We think it’s a mine.”

“Think?” she questioned severely.

“You weren’t gone that long,” Blake intervened, crouching to rummage through the find. “Do you really think I’d risk my ass by proceeding without you? I like sleeping with both eyes closed, thank you.”

Sida studied what little she could see of his handsome face, the rugged sensuality of it. The truth was, if they hadn’t been stuck in space together every damn day and night for so long, they never would’ve even exchanged link codes, let alone bodily fluids. They were too much alike to ever be anything more than respected colleagues, but space was cold. It was lonely and it was harsh. There had to be something to take away from that, even if it was only a handful of hot, mind-numbing hours.

“I knew there was something smart about you, aside from your mouth,” she smiled approvingly. “Where are the readouts from the probe?”

While Darling went to retrieve them for her, she crouched beside Blake and picked up one of the modified hydro-torches from the array of mining tools.

“Apparently, we’re not the first modern crew to have landed here recently. Look.” She turned the torch upside down and ran her fingers over the casing of the spent energy core where a serial number should be.

“Black market issue. Nice,” Blake commented. “None of these tools made that opening.”

“No, the mine was already here. The question is why,” she agreed. Standing, she activated the handheld remote for the probe Darling returned with and scanned the results on the central screen. “A single, straightforward mine shaft that curves down, around and up just under the heart of the city? How is that even possible?”

“I’ve been thinking about that while you were taking your sweet ass time on Earth,” Blake said. “It seems unlikely an ancient civilization would’ve had ground-penetrating sonar in order to pinpoint an exact vein of ore without divine intervention. There would be evidence of failed mining attempts, several dead-end shafts branching off the main one, but there is one natural resource every culture in history had a knack at finding with nothing more than a stick–and what typically stands in the center of a town square?”

“A natural spring or well,” Sida nodded. “Sounds probable. I like probable over divine intervention.”

“Me, too. Gods can be dicks,” he agreed. Then, his cheeks moved in a way that revealed a wolfish grin behind his mask. “So, you want top or bottom first?”

Holding his gaze for a moment, Sida addressed the others. “Gear up, crew. We’re going rock climbing, and your Commander just volunteered to take point.”

© A.C. Melody

Thanks for reading! Check out The Wicked Web link above for previous episodes. Until next time…

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Sensual Sentient ♥ An Introduction

Welcome to my latest addition to The Wicked Web. This is for all you SciFi lovers, but don’t worry Thief of Dragons will still be getting new installments. I’ve also updated the Wicked Web page, because I fell behind on episode links – you can now search by episode title! So, if you’re interested in reading some Free Content, please check it out!

Now, onto the good stuff…

Sensual Sentient

Sensual Sentient

Prologue

Captain Sida Marx stared unflinchingly at the fifteen hundred sets of eyes watching her every move. Twenty-four hours ago, she’d faced a panel of her commanding officers inside the Global Defense Command Center, formally known as the Pentagon. That had been far less intimidating.

The lecture hall was packed with first year cadets. They were eager, their gazes hungry and their minds in a state of delusion fueled by romanticized tales and ambitious dreams. Currently, they had nerves of steel and limitless drive, because they were safely tucked away behind hallowed walls on Earth. Sida knew their future. Most of them would never see space beyond the end of a telescope. Some would never make it outside of the Milky Way Galaxy and several of them would never step foot aboard an actual spacecraft.

Those who did make it into space would either quit or get themselves killed. If they were lucky, they’d manage it without taking the rest of their crew down with them. Failure was the only future for a majority of these poor, young souls. It would come academically, physically or psychologically, because the NASA Academy of Science Exploration was grueling on all counts, tolerated zero mistakes and space was the cold bastard that picked off those who still made it to graduation.

Aquacælestis Divinus,” Sida spoke at last, her voice echoing through the giant containment tube she alone stood inside of. It stretched the length of the hall, cutting her audience in half vertically. “Translates to?”

Hands shot in the air, so she chose at random.

“Divine water of the stars,” the girl answered.

“Street name: Starblood,” Sida nodded in confirmation, holding up a six-inch capsule. She could practically hear the cadets’ Interactive Ocular Attachments zooming in on it, despite the live feed projecting from giant holoscreens on either side of the hall. “Once believed to be a form of Mercury, due to its milky quicksilver appearance, Starblood is an extremely valuable alien mineral found in the veins of distant planets throughout the known and presumably unknown universe.”

Sida lifted her Xtreme World Opener–a huge upgrade from the standard issued rifle the Navy had provided–and slid the capsule into the charging chamber. A speculative murmur rose in the hall, as uniformed butts began shifting in their seats.

“Hopefully I grabbed the right batch,” she remarked, enjoying the ability to put the cadets further on edge while keeping a straight face. “Trust me, it’s no fun Opening a blackhole where a planet used to be.”

Setting her rifle aside, she climbed into her safety suit and then modeled it for her viewers, before slipping the helmet on. It immediately engaged, the inside of the face mask displaying her suit’s statistics and her own vitals, while scanning her environment.

“Full visual and activate external comm link,” she ordered the suit. The link icon blinked once, then the mask cleared of all diagnostics, allowing her to see the hall clearly again. “Who can tell me about this suit?”

Several hands shot into the air. Sida chose a girl who didn’t even look old enough to wash space dust off a ship, let alone be inside of one.

“It’s a NISS, a NASA Issued Safety Suit specifically designed for World Openings,” she answered.

Sida tilted her head. “That’s what it’s called, but can anyone tell me what it does? Just shout it out, cadets!”

“It’s capable of being a full life support system for up to four days,” one of them called out.

“Correct, what else?”

“It can withstand extreme temperatures from sub-zero to six hundred and thirty-five Celsius,” another said.

“Good, you in the back,” Sida pointed at a boy who’d been cut off by the first two answers already.

“It has an automatic center of gravity and pressurization deployment system just in case, you know, you did grab the wrong batch,” he replied, causing Sida to grin. Had to love a smart ass kid with brains.

“Yes!” she gave him a thumbs up. “Precisely. Which is where I left off.”

Much to the startled excitement of her audience, Sida didn’t hesitate to grab her rifle, power up the cells and shoot the capsule at the wall of timber someone had kindly stacked near the middle of the containment tube for her. The capsule exploded, charged Starblood feeding on the raw wood. Her mask tinted darker as the mineral glowed brighter, forcing the cadets to look away from the brightness.

“While harmless and completely useless in its natural state, Starblood’s dormant molecules need an intensely focused source of energy–such as this laser here–to become active. Once a World Opening has been established, it will remain stable until it’s neutralized by another stream of focused energy designed to disperse on contact to rapidly fry all of the Starblood’s neurons,” Sida explained. “Each capsule is a single use only. Fortunately for us, we’re scientists and have created the perfect synthetic additive that allows us to produce the same results while using less of the raw mineral, itself.”

As the Starblood finished spreading, its light decreased until it was possible for everyone to look at the wall of timber again. The hall was filled with new and unusual sounds coming from the alien world now visible through the Picasso inspired Opening spanning about four feet wide and six feet tall. What appeared to be towering vegetation in blueish-green shades nearly blocked out a violet sky. They oozed a cranberry red liquid as thick as tree sap. Veined, translucent petals floated lazily to the ground as if some giant kid were plucking the wings off insects at a steady rate.

“How do you keep the Starblood from spreading too far?” A cadet asked.

Sida smiled. She preferred blurting over hand raising any day.

“Two ways,” she answered. “One, the Opening size can be formulated by the additive in each capsule and two, Starblood will only work on a natural resource. Wood, stone, soil, clay, any natural metal ores or anything made of those things would suffice. It won’t spread beyond the size of your chosen resource. Your options are limitless and usually readily available near any newly discovered vein. After you’ve successfully completed an Opening, what’s your first step?”

“Check the atmosphere to make sure it’s breathable and non-toxic.”

“Absolutely correct,” Sida nodded. “Look, I don’t care how smart these suits are, they’re bulky and a pain to try to maneuver in for any length of time. What are we?”

“Scientists!”

“Soldiers!”

“Both,” she corrected. “We’re both, but primarily, yes, we’re scientists and our main objective is to gather data and determine if a planet produces Starblood. Mobility for your safety, as well as getting into those hard to reach places where the mineral usually forms, is vitally important to your mission. So, before doing anything else, find out if you can ditch the suit.”

So saying, Sida pulled her helmet off and rested it on her hip. “I happen to already know that this planet’s atmosphere is safe for us. Can anyone name it just by sight?”

“Everyone knows the Bleeding Trees of Lexitor Gamma,” a boy smirked, earning chuckling support from his buddies.

Arching a brow, Sida set her helmet aside so she could start climbing out of the suit. “Yes, everyone knows about them, but those are not trees. In fact, they’re not any kind of vegetation at all. Bleeding Trees is the layman’s term for a classification of Lexitorian animal, similar to our ocean’s Sea Anemones. Ignorance, my dear cadets, will get you killed in space and that’s not an exaggeration, scare tactic, or figure of speech. It is pure fact. One might even goes as far as saying, it’s scientifically proven fact.”

Free from her suit, she turned and looked at each area of the audience as she continued. “It’s our job to be informed. Ignorance can destroy entire ecosystems, risk the lives of your crew, ruin any possible hope for diplomacy with Non-Terrestrials and has the very real, frightening potential of starting a galactic war with alien races who are far more advanced and have much bigger weapons than we do.”

The lecture hall was silent, the chuckling cadets now red-faced with embarrassment and shame. It was nothing compared to what they’d endure if they survived long enough to make it into space, so Sida didn’t feel bad for it in the least. Let them learn humility now, while they were still safe and had the choice to continue or not.

“First rule of space: Learn before you think, think before you act. We’re the babies of the universe beyond our own solar system. Those NT’s out there have been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you could possibly imagine, and with their advanced weapons, technology and natural abilities, they don’t have to follow the same rules we do. That’s their playground, and we’re the intruders,” she added for icing on the reality-check cake.

Setting her rifle to a different stream, Sida aimed and fired. The single pulse dispersed in an electrical web, completely neutralizing the Starblood. She let that sink in with the cadets, as the Opening quickly shrank in on itself and an ash like substance floated into the air around the charred wood.

“Okay,” she smiled. “Any questions?”

© A.C. Melody

Thanks for reading and don’t let this prologue fool you, as the title would suggest, this is an Erotic SciFi-Fantasy, so prepare for some steamy episodes ahead and 18+ link-only posts. 😉 Until next time…

Thief of Dragons ♥ Episode 21

Rival

Rival

Roehn wandered downstairs, and what greeted her was the exact opposite of the morning before. The grand dining hall was filled with Dragons, alongside Ilydan, Rynd and Sajyn. All conversation dropped off the moment she entered the room. Trying not to be bothered by it, she made her way over to the serving table, which had the head chef jumping out of his chair.

“Miss Leontle, please, allow me,” he said.

“It’s fine, Sajyn, I can do it,” she waived him off. “Go back to your conversation, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The Raccoon looked hesitant, glancing toward the Dragon Lords. “If it’s all the same to you, Miss, I’d rather not get fired,” he pleaded quietly.

Sighing in understanding, Roehn pointed to the heated carafe. “Coffee, too, please,” she instructed, while handing her plate over to him.

Arcylaen entered the room, as she was crossing to the table. “There are far too many Dragons under the same roof for it to be this quiet,” he commented, pulling Roehn’s chair out for her.

“That’s my fault,” she admitted, sitting down so he could scoot her in, before taking his own seat.

“Well, from what I hear, you did bite everyone’s head off the last time you were in here,” Arcylaen agreed.

Roehn’s mouth popped open, as she glared at him in surprise. “Not everyone’s,” she admonished. Looking across the table, she found Brej watching them with amused curiosity. “I am sorry, though, Brejeir. I was completely out of line taking my frustrations out on you, when this situation is far from being any fault of yours. Just like you have no control over the fact that your brother was a complete absentee jerk yesterday.”

Arcylaen’s expression fell. “I said I was sorry.”

“Not to Brejeir,” she pointed out sweetly.

The Dragon in question gave them both a wide, toothy grin, which had Arcylaen rolling his eyes and grumbling out an apology under his breath.

“Thank you, Sajyn,” Roehn smiled, when the Raccoon brought plates and coffee for both her and Arcylaen.

The conversations had just started to pick up again, when Emmon suddenly appeared from a mysterious entrance. “My Lord, Lady Turvo is here and requesting an immediate audience. She claims it’s an emergency.”

Roehn felt her shoulders stiffen, and she wasn’t the only one who seemed to grow a little tense at the announcement. Even Brejeir’s grin completely vanished.

“Of course, show her in,” Arcylaen replied.

Emmon bowed and then disappeared.

“No one will blame you, if you’d rather not be here,” Arcylaen said quietly, reaching out to squeeze Roehn’s forearm reassuringly.

Still not afraid of Dragons,” she stated.

His mouth quirked up in amusement, before he captured her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. That’s when Emmon returned with the perfectly polished Eleqwyn Turvo. Her red coils were wrapped up in a stylish do, her white and gold ensemble appeared more expensive than the subdued gems at her neck, wrist and ears. If Roehn didn’t know any better, she’d say the woman was trying to show off her ability to portray the perfect politician’s wife. Of course, she did know better, and didn’t doubt for a single second that was exactly what the woman was attempting to do.

Eleqwyn paused with unbidden displeasure at seeing the room full of people she apparently had no love for. Her gaze fell pointedly on Ilydan, Rynd, Sajyn, and finally on Roehn, where it lingered a bit longer than the others.

“Well, it’s nice to see you’ve opened your table to anyone willing to sit at it, Lords Draea,” she commented coolly.

“I doubt the dining habits of my household was the big emergency that brought you here this morning, Lady Turvo,” Arcylaen countered smoothly, his tone civil, yet devoid of feeling.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I’m here, because my house was robbed last night.”

That got everyone’s attention, especially Roehn’s.

“What?” Arcylaen rose from his chair. “Was it the same as the others?”

“Yes, all of our Cayen relics and monies were stolen, no evidence was left behind,” the Lady answered, and despite what a haughty bitch she was, Roehn could see that she was genuinely shaken by it. “The alarms were never triggered.”

“Is your father with the authorities now?” Arclyaen asked.

“He is, but as you know, there’s very little that can be done,” she replied. “Which is why my father is calling for a meeting of the Thirteen Dragons. Consider this you summons and warning, my Lords. Things are going to change.”

“Good, they need to change,” Cylaen agreed, dismissing her threat. “Our modern world can no longer be run by archaic Rites. The old-fashioned traditions no longer have a place in today’s society.”

“Those traditions and Rites are sacred,” Eleqwyn gasped, appalled by his words.

“No, they’re narrow-minded and prejudiced,” he countered. “I will state as much at the meeting. For now, we need to focus on the robberies.”

“Why don’t you ask your Ward where she was last night?” Eleqwyn suggested snidely.

“Why would I ask her something I already know?” he returned calmly.

Arcylaen let the intended implication hang in the air long enough to have Roehn and Brej grinning like mischievous children at one another across the table. She didn’t feel a single shred of embarrassment that he’d just announced to the entire household they’d spent the night together, even if it had been mostly innocent. Then Arcylaen had to go and ruin it, by continuing with a more clinical explanation.

“For all your claim on how sacred the ancient Rites are, you apparently know nothing of how they work. I can feel Leandra all of the time and exactly where she is, that is the entire purpose of the Warden bond.”

Ah, yes. How could Roehn have forgotten? She truly had been outside of his study the night before, though he hadn’t been able to see her. She’d overheard the very same confession when he’d made it to Brejeir. The Warden bond was putting a stranglehold on her ability to finish what she’d come to accomplish. Apparently, she was no longer the only thief in town, either, but they hadn’t robbed the Turvo’s. Not really. They’d robbed her, and she would find them.

Sniffing, Eleqwyn lifted her chin, obviously displeased with that insight, because it gave Roehn an air-tight alibi. “Well, don’t blame me, I’m not the only one questioning her motives here in Skaulling, or why she would purchase the House of Cayen. Otherwise, the requests for the Warden Rites never would’ve been submitted to the Council in the first place.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of why the requests were submitted, Eleqwyn,” Arcylaen countered in a tone that clearly indicated it was not for the purpose she was suggesting. “Now, I am very sorry that your house was broken into last night. We have been following all leads that we come across, and I assure you, the investigation has not rested for even a second. We will find those responsible. That should be the main focus of the Thirteen Dragons, not the resurgence of ancient traditions no one has bothered with in over three decades.”

“There was never a need to bother with them before, Arcylaen, but apparently, that need is quite present now,” she returned heatedly.

“And a matter which I will discuss with the Heads of Houses at the meeting,” he stated firmly.

Ouch. Even Roehn felt the sting of that one, but it was obvious the woman would’ve continued her verbal campaign right into the ground, had Arcylaen not nipped it so cleanly in the bud. Lady Turvo stared him down with silent indignation for a moment, then turned on her heel and marched from the room. Emmon gracefully fell into line behind her, to see her out properly–or perhaps, make certain she left.

Cylaen sighed heavily and returned to the table. “And so it begins.”

“The meeting was unavoidable, even without the last two days’ events,” Grevys spoke up. “The fact that we’re no closer to catching the thieves now than we were after House Riescho was originally broken into, has been making the Heads antsy and questioning our ability to protect them.”

“That’s the problem,” Arcylaen fired darkly, rapping his knuckle on the table with an unexpected show of frustration. “It’s not our duty to protect them. It’s the duty of all Thirteen Dragons and their Houses to protect the combined cities of Skaulling! This lack of responsibility and ridiculous notion of entitlement the other Houses have fallen into needs to be put to a stop immediately!”

“Brother, we need to rally our allies before the meeting,” Ryver pointed out. “Find out if the other Heads of Houses are in line with your ideas beforehand, so you’re not blindsided by a twelve-to-one vote.”

“Thank you so much for the confidence, Ryv,” Cylaen remarked dryly, but nodded in agreement and finally sank back down into his chair. “That’s a good plan. Unfortunately, for all of Eleqwyn’s lack of personality, at least she’s always up front. The others may not be as forthcoming about their true thoughts or intentions.”

“Then we can’t afford to waste any time,” Brejeir said. “I’ll send our team to House Turvo to go over the crime scene and talk to the authorities. They might find something that was missed. In the meantime, I suggest you start making personal visits to the other Houses, brother, with your Ward.”

Roehn nearly choked on her eggs. “What?”

“What are you scheming?” Arcylaen asked at the same time, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“Anyone who actually takes the time to meet and talk with Leandra would never be able to dislike her,” Brejeir stated confidently. “Except Eleqwyn, of course. Let them ask her their questions and hear her answers for themselves, so they no longer see her as an unknown foreigner and possible threat. Everyone knows her Echelonite has chosen you as its mate, so give them the respect and opportunity to put their fears at rest that she isn’t going to distract you from your duties as the Dragon’s Head, that she’s actually already on her way to making you a better leader.”

“He’s right, Cyl. Whether you like it or not, this is now a political campaign. You’re going to have to put yourself and Leandra in the public spotlight, so they can not only get to know her, but you and her as a team,” Daelyn finally spoke up. “The refurbishing projects in the abandoned neighborhoods are a great springboard, and the fact that you two began them prior to the Rites and the meeting being called, adds weight to your position.”

“I hate pageantry,” Arcylaen grumbled.

Roehn completely agreed with him on that, but the more her mind unraveled the pitfalls and outcomes of their situation, the more she realized they had very little choice. Besides, someone else had broken into House Turvo the night before, which meant there was an unknown element at play and until she could discover if they were friend or rival, she had to do everything in her power to ensure House Draea remained at the top of the food chain.

“Arcylaen, I’m not crazy about any of this,” Roehn said sincerely. “But I can’t be the reason why the other Houses turn on you. I’d rather be deported back to Meive, before I let that happen.”

The crimson underlining the gold in his eyes brightened with denial. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said with finality.

“Then, it’s settled,” Brejeir intervened, just as his phone chimed. Picking it up, he read the message and then leveled them both with a serious expression. “And so is the date for the meeting. We have seven days to convince the majority of twelve Houses that you’re still the best candidate for Dragon’s Head.”

©A.C. Melody

Thank you for reading! Please check out The Wicked Web link above for previous episodes, if you’re just tuning in. You can also follow my blog via e-mail to ensure you never miss any free content. Until next time…

Thief of Dragons ♥ Episode 18

Astral

The Power of Spirit

The next morning, Roehn found the grand dining hall full of food, but empty of Dragons. Lifting covers off the trays, she made herself a plate and carried it into the kitchen. Rynd was sitting at the booth style table with Ilydan and Sajyn. They looked at her in surprise, but then the Hawk scooted over and patted the bench to his left. Grateful, she sat down. She was still nervous about facing Arcylaen, so was relieved he wasn’t there yet. They definitely needed to talk about what had happened the night before, she’d just prefer to get some coffee into her system first.

More than anything, Roehn hoped to get him to understand that he wasn’t to blame. She wanted to erase the memory of sheer horror that had crossed his features when he’d realized his own words had literally taken over all of her free will. Unfortunately, Rynd’s next words squashed any hope she’d get that chance before work.

“The Lords Draea were summoned to City Hall first thing this morning,” he informed her. “They won’t be able to make it to the museum before opening, so Lords Ryver and Grevys will be meeting us there for the authentication process.”

“Grievances have already been filed?” Roehn asked, glancing at her watch. It was only six-thirty!

“Word must’ve reached Haraj and Gwyn last night, undoubtedly from someone spotting you and Councilwoman Thaya arriving so close together at Draea Tower yesterday afternoon,” Rynd nodded. “They were waiting for the Council at dawn.”

The main floor lobby of Draea Tower had been rather busy, but Roehn’s suspicions fell to the busy little mice manning the large receptionist desk. Keeping that to herself, she shrugged a shoulder and started in on her breakfast.

“It’s nothing more than we were already expecting, right?”

Rynd gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, it will all blow over soon enough. Until then, guess who you get to hang out with all day?”

Roehn narrowed her eyes, while chewing on a strip of bacon. “You’re not going to follow me around the museum like some creepy lurker, are you?”

“Creepy?” he scoffed, feigning offense.

“I’d be creeped out,” Sajyn put in, causing Roehn to grin at him.

“That’s because you’re prey, chipmunk,” Rynd returned.

Even the racoon on Sajyn’s shoulder managed an unimpressed look at the insult.

“I’d just shoot him,” Ilydan supplied conversationally, while continuing to read the morning paper.

“So much love,” Rynd muttered back into his breakfast, while Roehn chuckled around hers.

*

Once again, the artifacts were conclusively authentic, but when Roehn asked Ryver if he’d heard anything about the Council session, his reply was negative.

“But, don’t worry,” he added. “I’m sure Cylaen will let you know the moment he and Brej have the final verdict.”

They didn’t. Word never came. Not a single phone call, text or appearance. Since Sajyn had been nice enough to pack her a lunch, there had been no need for Roehn to go outside during her break, yet she had. The sting of disappointment to see the curb devoid of Arcylaen’s all-black sedan stayed with her, despite Rynd’s continued vows of contact from the Dragon soon. Roehn tried consoling herself with reason. Most likely, the grievances had taken up time that Arcylaen had to make up at work, leaving him no time to contact anyone. He was just busy, that’s all. She had no idea what he did for a living, other than run the entire country of Skaulling in an unofficial capacity. That was bound to keep his plate excessively full.

At the end of the day, Ilydan appeared in an otherwise empty car to take her back to House Draea. Rynd was her only company for dinner. As much as she liked the Hawk, he was not the man she wanted to talk to. Finally, a Dragon entered the room as they were polishing off dessert. It just wasn’t the one she’d been hoping for.

“What’s for dinner? I’m starved,” Brejeir greeted, making his way to the covered trays on the serving buffet.

“Where’s Arcylaen?” Roehn asked.

“I’m sure he’ll be here shortly,” Brej answered. “The Council took longer than we’d anticipated. He’s probably still at the office working.”

She tried to settle with that, and couldn’t. “Why did it take longer? How did it go?”

“No worries, the Council stood by their choice, but to say the requesting Lords weren’t happy about it, is a slight understatement,” he replied, piling food onto his plate, before joining them at the table. Claiming the seat directly across from her again, he held Roehn’s gaze firmly. “Rynd will be your bodyguard for some time, so I hope you’re getting along okay.”

“She loves me,” the Hawk said confidently.

“What’s the threat?” Roehn asked.

“The word’s out now, that your Echelonite has chosen Arcylaen as its mate,” Brej answered soberly. “That makes you a target from many Houses, including some of our own.”

“I’m not afraid of Dragons,” she stated darkly, beyond irritated. “Especially, Eleqwyn Turvo.”

Bejeir smiled. “I see you’ve already had the pleasure,” he said. “Damn, I wish I could’ve been there. The problem is, she’s not the only Dragon who believes in the traditional uniting of Houses. There are older, more powerful members of our species that will do what they feel is necessary to preserve those traditions, even if it’s unlawful. Cylaen is deeply concerned for your safety now. I would advise not doing anything that will cause him more worry.”

“What can I do?” Roehn balked. “I have a babysitter and a driver. I can’t even go to my own house. I’m lucky I get to go to my job.”

“Leandra–”

“Don’t you dare say that you understand,” she cut him off viciously, pushing out of her chair. “Until you have been stripped of all your freedom and have someone with the power to physically make you do whatever they want with just their words, do not ever tell me that you understand!”

Though she instantly regretted losing her temper, Roehn felt every emotion behind her words. Unable to bear the weight of their pitying looks, she pivoted on her heels and retreated to her room. She hated the lack of outlet for her frustrations. She paced, wanting to rage, wishing she had the courage to pick up the priceless artifacts around her and throw them, but she didn’t. Being a conservationist wasn’t just for show, after all. Roehn could never live with herself if she purposely destroyed something with historical significance.

She wasn’t them. She wasn’t her family. Yet, once again, she found herself in the position of being utterly helpless because of their crimes! No one truly hated the Black Dogs of Cayen more than Roehn, but that hatred hurt. It cut away at her insides and messed with her head. There was something unnatural about despising your own flesh and blood, but how could she not? They’d abandoned her, shunned her, plotted to end her…and worst of all, had been so horrible they’d been destroyed before she’d gotten the chance to meet them. Before she could look them in the eyes and demand to know why!

They were just as much to blame for robbing her of that opportunity as the Dragons. But, Roehn was tired of blaming. She just wanted to move on and the only way to do that, was by completing her mission to take her rightful inheritance and turn it into something good. She wanted people to see that a daughter of the House of Cayen could be better. Could make better choices, and be a positive force for change, but that was mostly likely a pipe dream. In truth, they would never really knew who she was. Every time they would praise or compliment her accomplishments, though, Roehn would know they were really cheering on a Black Dog. That’s all that mattered.

It was time to bring balance back to the scales. Perhaps, Arcylaen’s absence was really a blessing in disguise. Decided, Roehn quickly got herself ready for bed. Once she was tucked in, she went right to work. Despite the success of her powers, it took time getting deep enough into the right kind of meditative state that allowed her to leave her body. The Dragons thought they were up against a group of thieves, because there was no way one person alone could pull off the heists, carry all the goods and bypass the alarms. They had no idea how right and wrong they were.

Roehn had split her astral self a thousand times in the past, but this night was different. There was a greater risk at getting caught, a much greater consequence if she were and an even greater necessity to do it, anyway. She needed her freedom back. Not just for herself, but Arcylaen, as well. It was obvious the responsibility was weighing on him heavier than they’d thought it would. They had to remove the Warden Rites out from between them, before it ruined whatever chance they might have at a normal, healthy relationship. Something she’d never imagined being concerned about with a Dragon, but Roehn was no longer in denial over her attraction to him. There was an unquestionable desire to see where it might lead.

First, she just needed to pull off a little spiritual cat burglary. Nothing her chosen Echelonite couldn’t handle…

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to start Thief of Dragons from the beginning, you can find all of the previous episodes under The Wicked Web link on the menu. Up next, Episode 19.

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Thief of Dragons ♥ Episode 17

words1

A Way With Words

Still using Roehn as an excuse to put on a show, Sajyn and his staff were gracefully efficient at getting the newly arrived Dragons set up with their meals. Brejeir scarcely waited for them to finish, before getting right down to business.

“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked Arcylaen.

“Lord Haraj’s request was first, and no surprise,” he answered around eating.

“I still say it was your phone call,” Rohen muttered between her own bites of soup.

“What phone call?” Brej asked, but wasn’t the only one who perked up, intrigued.

Arcylaen gave her an exasperated look, before telling them about the call he’d used as a ploy during the Gala to send the Griffin on an unnecessary errand. “That doesn’t change the fact that he was already interested and would’ve submitted a request with the Council, anyway.”

Daelyn snickered at Arcylaen’s defensiveness, who scowled in return.

“The other request was from Lord Gwyn of House Oryth,” Arcylaen continued, causing all of the Dragons to look at him in surprise.

Brejeir sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the side of his wine glass. “What interest would the Ravens have in this?” he wondered aloud. “The House of Cayen?”

“Possibly,” Arcylaen replied.

“What about it?” Roehn asked, displeased with the idea of them keeping pertinent information from her.

Especially, when it pertained to her own house. The two eldest Dragons appeared reluctant to share.

“Historically, the Ravens were always the most loyal to both the Black Dogs and the Wolves,” Ryver spoke up, looking at her from across the table. “About a quarter of a century ago, a falling out occurred and the Ravens removed themselves completely from any association with House Cayen. They remained quite detached from all the drama that followed, siding with no one during the struggle to remove the Cayens from power.”

“What if the Black Dogs took something that belonged to them and now they want it back?” Grevys asked.

“They would’ve filed a grievance with the Council just like everyone else did five years ago. There would be no need for them to invoke the Warden Rites over Leandra,” Arcylaen growled. “Please, look into it.”

“Of course, brother,” Ryver nodded.

“Speaking of grievances,” Brejeir interjected. “You know the two losing Lords are going to be filing their share first thing in the morning.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already contacted Metka. At this very moment, he’s working up dismissal orders for anything the Lords could possibly attempt,” Arcylaen replied, speaking of his attorney, Roehn presumed, since he’d already mentioned taking that action to Councilwoman Thaya. “The Rite won’t be overturned.”

“Are you sure?” Daelyn questioned, looking between him and Roehn with concern. “The order of submission–”

“Doesn’t mean a thing when Leandra’s Echelonite has already made its choice,” Arcylaen cut him off, succeeding in shocking everyone at the table, except Brejeir.

Roehn’s cheeks reddened, dumbfounded at how easily Arcylaen could just blurt such a major incident like it was a common, every day occurrence.

Daelyn’s grin was slow and wide. “Well, okay then,” he celebrated.

Roehn offered him a weak smile, but couldn’t muster the same excitement. It was bad enough the situation made her feel grateful for Shursja’s rash behavior, knowing she very well could’ve ended up at a completely different table tonight.

The entire ordeal was infuriating, because Roehn didn’t want to feel grateful, anymore than she wanted to be bound to the Dragon’s Head. Her plans were edging toward complete ruin, thanks to some barbaric tradition!

“You know, you could just put a stop to all of these ridiculous laws, then no one would have to worry about rushed ceremonies, filed grievances or contacting attorneys,” she grit out.

When Arcylaen looked at her, she held his gaze with an arched brow, daring him to say she was wrong. He knew damn well she was right. They all did. Even the Council knew she was right!

“Those aren’t the only laws that need adjusting,” Daelyn added.

Arcylaen rolled his eyes. “We’re not turning dinner into a political campaign,” he stated with finality. “We have enough to worry about at the moment and by morning, those problems will undoubtedly be doubled. We need to stay focused on what can be handled right now, rather than in the future. Laws cannot be altered or eradicated overnight.”

“You’re the boss,” Daelyn sighed.

The rest of the meal was spent mostly with the others chatting amongst themselves about current events, while Roehn listened curiously and Arcylaen ate in silence, brooding.

Afterward, he led Roehn upstairs to the west tower, where her new room waited for its reluctant princess. It was another enchanting motif done in sunset shades of pinks, oranges and yellows with a touch of dusk blue. Arcylaen stood just inside the door, watching her inspect the hand carved furniture and fourposter bed. She lingered at the arched windows with stained glass depicting brilliant suns, dragons, castles and nature scenes. It was too dark to see what kind of view she had otherwise, but Roehn didn’t doubt it would be both breathtaking and of no consequence.

She would still feel like a prisoner.

“Since we’ll need to authenticate the artifacts again, we can all ride to the museum together in the morning,” Arcylaen said, when she faced him.

“Okay,” she accepted.

“The en-suite bath should be fully stocked with everything you need,” he said, as if searching for a reason to stay. “But if by some chance you need something, there’s a phone next to your bed that will connect you to Lyva or any of the household-”

“Arcylaen, I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, I think I can manage,” she cut him off.

“Of course,” he smiled slightly. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest, then.”

Roehn nodded, wondering when their relationship had turned awkward. Suddenly they didn’t know how to be in the same space together? When he crossed to the door, she followed so she could close it behind him. It all felt so mechanical, yet neither of them seemed to know how to make it stop.

“Goodnight, Leandra,” he said, pausing with his hand on the knob.

“Goodnight.”

Holding her gaze for a moment longer, he finally released the handle and turned out of the room. Roehn exhaled a long sigh, then started closing the door, when Arcylaen’s hand stopped it and pushed it open again.

“Just one more thing,” he muttered.

She hadn’t realized how disappointed she’d been, until he crossed the threshold with golden eyes churning in desire. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the floor, bringing her mouth to his.

It shouldn’t keep getting better. Roehn’s mouth should be getting used to his kisses, not feeling them more vigorously. The texture of Arcylaen’s lips were more defined and persuasive against hers. His tongue hotter, stronger and more demanding. His confident fingers kneaded the tension from her muscles, while his mouth threatened to leave her in a puddle of melted, needy goo.

Roehn gasped into his hungry mouth, when he cupped her ass and pinned her even tighter against his body. The hard line of his arousal was clearly defined against her lower stomach, launching her desire into a whole new orbit. Heat fused with her cells, creating tiny solar flares all through her veins.

A tiny moan escaped her and Aryclaen devoured it, grew hungrier for more. Roehn’s mind spun happily, like a child making themselves dizzy just for the sensation of it. For the sheer free-fall joy of it. That’s what giving into her lust with the Dragon would be; Freeing. But at what cost?

They came back to their senses simultaneously, though neither were ready to break apart completely. The intensity was gradually reined in, the kisses melting into a smoldering warmth, edged with the promise of future combustion. It had to be enough. Roehn couldn’t allow herself to accept more yet. She still needed time to settle with the idea that it would happen. There was no point in denying it, she wasn’t that naïve or, apparently, strong-willed when it came to her desire for him.

There was too much riding on the present to be worried about the future, at any rate. Arcylaen’s hand slid into her hair, cradling the base of her skull and Roehn leaned into it. Reveled in the feel of his masculine strength, while he rested his forehead on hers.

“That’s how I meant to say goodnight the first time,” he smiled a little smugly.

“Definitely a better choice,” Roehn reciprocated. “Maybe you should practice, so you don’t forget next time.”

He chuckled, placed a soft kiss on her lips, then spanked her bottom playfully. “Go to bed, kitten, we have a busy day tomorrow.”

In a blink, Roehn forgot everything she’d been thinking or feeling, overcome with the singular need to obey Arcylaen’s words. Her arms fell from him and she stepped back, her entire body possessed by an invisible force. It might have stemmed from her bond with Shursja, since the panther woke with a start, fully alert.

Roehn turned and approached the side of the bed, her fingers working the buttons undone down the front of her blouse. She needed to get undressed and into her nightgown, so she could brush her teeth and hair. Afterward, she’d go through her nightly process of washing her face and applying an overnight moisturizer. Then she could go to bed. She needed to go to bed.

Right before she could peel the blouse from her arms, strong hands clamped around them to stop her. She had no idea who it was, nor did it matter. She only had one objective.

“Leandra, what are you doing?” A male voice asked, his tone both surprised and aroused.

“I have to go to bed,” she replied hollowly, the only thing she could think of, a single-minded obsession. “I can’t stop, until I go to bed.”

“Stop!” he demanded, his voice hard.

In a snap, Roehn felt the unknown force release her body and mind. Under the influence of the Warden power, she hadn’t been able to feel or think beyond Arcylaen’s command, but there was nothing stopping the shock from hitting her in the aftermath. Her mouth popped open, breath sucking in sharply.

Heart pounding, she looked down at her shirt hanging open, her black lace bra and cleavage fully exposed. It felt like someone punched her right in the gut, the air exploding from her lungs.

“Aaah!” she started, grabbing the material and quickly closing it over her chest.

Embarrassment, shock, fear…fear was the biggest, slammed into her like a bullet train.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean-,” Arcylaen roughed out, but Roehn instantly shied away from him when he tried to touch her.

The ramifications were instantaneous. She hadn’t even had the chance to process what had happened, yet her first reaction was mistrust and it effected them both horribly.

“You need to leave,” she whispered, unable to look him directly in the eye. “Please…get out.”

“Leandra,” he held his hand up, as if he wanted to touch her, but he didn’t. He backed away from her slowly, his expression dark and horrified. “I’m so sorry.”

He was out of the room before Roehn could even clear her vision. She sank down onto the bed in a daze of confusion, as the hurt began seeping through the filter of shock. Still clutching her shirt closed, Roehn curled into herself as tightly as possible, because she started trembling uncontrollably.

Betrayal sliced through her, tears filling her eyes. Her mind simply couldn’t accept the truth and the more it tried, the more it hurt. She never would’ve expected to get her first taste of the Rite’s real potential from Arcylaen, himself. Not physically. She’d chosen him, because she’d trusted him with her body. Had known that he’d never make her do anything against her will.

The worst part was knowing it had been completely unintentional, because that left no one to blame. No outlet for the anger that quickly rose up to outmatch the heartache. For hours, Roehn worked through a gamut of emotions. All of the reactions she’d been forced to keep bottled up since leaving work to find Ilydan waiting for her. The apprehension, fear, outrageous disbelief over being forced to enter into a binding ritual she’d never wanted, the injustice, being denied her own home and privacy.

The more she relived the events which had unfolded over the course of a single evening, the angrier Roehn became, until it was the only thing left. She grabbed hold of it, because anger was better than heartache in so many ways. It allowed her to view Arcylaen as her equal in the incident, rather than the antagonist. The Rite had victimized both of them, created an outcome against both their wills and no amount of knowledge or understanding could erase that. Nothing could take it away. The traumatizing moment was forever etched into her brain, her soul and it was a fate she wouldn’t wish upon her worst enemy. No one should ever have to endure having all control of their own thoughts and body taken away like that!

Cauldex desperately needed a complete overhaul of their outdated traditions and laws. There was only one surefire way she could see that happening. Arcylaen needed to step up,  become the official leader of Skaulling, and Roehn needed to put her position as his unofficial business partner to much better use. She couldn’t be just a conservationist and thief anymore. Those were only bandage solutions, she understood that now.

The world needed an engineer of change.

© A.C. Melody

Thank you for reading! Need to start the story from the beginning? You’ll find all previous episodes under the Wicked Web link on the menu above. Up next, Episode 18.

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Thief of Dragons ♥ Episode 16

housedraea2

House Draea

The drive across the city was a study in silence, though Arcylaen had set his phone aside once the House of Cayen was behind them.

He gently lifted Roehn’s fingertips with his own and studied her, when Ilydan turned down a narrow lane where a small castle stood like an ancient sentry amid modern day mansions. Roehn’s gaze drank in the gold-hued stone decorated with red and green lichen. It was a giant square, the corners made of towers with open battlements. Lead-pane windows were tall and arched with flower boxes nestled at their sills. All, save the giant stained glass window crowning the front entrance, glowing with the Draea Family Crest, just like his skyscraper downtown.

Well, at least their pride is consistent.

At the end of the drive, Ilydan stopped the car and waited for the security gates to slowly swing inward, before pulling into a narrow way. Tall hedges flanked the pavement like walls, until the right side curved away from them, revealing a large parking area complete with a guard tower. A Bear stood on the small stoop outside the arched wooden door, smoking a cigarette. He saluted a wave at the car, as Ilydan passed the garage and continued toward the main entrance. Ground lighting was cleverly tucked into bordering plants, granting plenty of illumination to the cobblestone courtyard, but most were arranged to set the castle aglow in the darkness.

“What, no moat?” Roehn asked.

Arcylaen smirked, yet continued to watch her, as if wanting to gauge her reaction to his home. It was gorgeous, of course, and no less than she’d expect from the oldest Royal family on the planet. The Dragon was just lucky Roehn wasn’t the spiteful type, or she might’ve shown his house the same respect he’d shown hers.

Unfortunately, Rynd’s words kept circling in her mind, tugging at her empathy. The blasted Hawk had nailed it; Roehn was completely ignorant when it came to the history of her own house. She hadn’t dug into any of the reports or articles pertaining to it, because she’d been leery of finding reasons to sympathize with the Dragons. After all, when one was intending to rob someone, it wasn’t a good idea to grow a soft spot for them.

She glanced at Arcylaen and practically rolled her eyes. Who was she kidding? Soft spot was an understatement for what was growing between them. In such a short time, she’d gone from never meeting a Dragon, to being the Ward of one, and somewhere in between an undeniable attraction had taken root. Yet, Roehn didn’t feel swayed from her plans. If anything, her time with Arcylaen had only served to reinforce them. Especially with the ridiculous Rites binding her to his complete control.

After climbing out, Arcylaen ordered Ilydan to assist Rynd with all of Roehn’s luggage, so he could be the one to offer his hand for her to take. She gave him a bemused smile, as she slid to her feet.

“Are you trying to be a gentleman?” She teased mildly.

“I am a gentleman,” he countered confidently.

The undercurrent of lust in his every nuance said otherwise, but who was she to argue when both sides of the man sparked a degeneration of her own ladylike qualities?

To prove himself, Arcylaen kissed the back of her hand–and then ‘gentleman’ took a backseat to Dragon, when rather than placing it on his arm, he entwined his fingers with hers and held tight. At the top of the stairs, the doors opened for them, but Roehn scarcely noticed the Bears on either side of the armored wood. Her eyes widened in awe over the splendor of the grand foyer.

“Arcylaen, this is breathtaking,” she whispered sincerely, her neck craning in attempt to see everything at once.

“Thank you,” he accepted, his smile genuinely pleased.

A grand staircase swept across the space from the right, creating a balcony across the back of the foyer, before curving down the left wall and finishing in a wide, angled welcome. Maplevine was woven through the decorative balustrades, sprinkled with the soft glow of fairy lights. An enormous chandelier hung level with the second story, the very light source behind the stained glass Crest visible from outside. It looked exactly like the fiery bloom of a Dragon’s Breath flower. The chain was molded into the same twisting, vine-like stem, the frosted glass stained sunset orange and crimson for the petals that curved up and then out at the very tips. The stamen spiraled down from the center, each holding a glowing orb of light. The stigma was capped with a multifaceted sconce of crystalline amber, the light dancing in simulation of an actual flame.

A small group of household staff silently gathered, while Roehn took in the décor. She supposed Arcylaen had probably called ahead to let them know about her new–Please be temporary–living arrangements.

“Leandra, this is Emmon, Head of Household staff,” he gestured to the older male Badger first, before moving onto a female Swallow, then a male Raccoon. “Prelei is Head of the Housekeeping staff and Sajyn is the Head Chef in charge of all kitchen staff.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Roehn greeted.

“And this is Lyva,” he saved the Dove for last. “She will be your personal attendant.”

Attendant or babysitter? Roehn forced a polite smile for the slightly younger woman. She knew a lot of prominent families still kept personal servants, but Roehn had no need for one. She couldn’t very well say that without hurting the Dove’s feelings, though. To garner a job at House Draea was undoubtedly a coveted position the girl was proud to have.

“My Lord, dinner is ready and awaiting your approval,” Sajyn announced.

“Good, I’m famished,” Arcylaen replied. “Emmon, Lyva, please see to Miss Leontle’s belongings. She can take the Sunset Suite in the west tower.”

“Shouldn’t I go with them?” Roehn wondered quietly, watching the virtual strangers gather her bags and cart them up the stairs. She’d never had someone else tend to her things before and wasn’t exactly comfortable with it.

“Don’t worry, your belongings are in safe, capable hands,” Arcylaen answered. “Besides, you’re hungry, because you haven’t eaten a single bite since Daelyn showed off his culinary skills at lunch.”

Roehn scowled at him. “Do I need to start looking over my shoulder for spies, L-”

His brow rose quickly and a look of challenge crossed his features, daring her to finish that sentence. When she clamped her mouth shut and glared, he chuckled. “Shame,” he mused, his gaze sweeping across her mouth briefly. “Once again, I don’t need to be your Warden to pick up on your more obvious traits, Leandra. You are a workaholic.”

Roehn countered with her own arched brow. “Says the man running an entire country with all the stress and none of the vetoing benefits.”

With an exasperated sigh, he shook his head and led her through the foyer. They had to step down into a hallway that started from under the staircase and continued to their right, ending in an arched doorway framed with more Maplevine and fairy lights. The same bold red carpeting that filled his office started as a runner from the other side of the threshold, leading them into the largest formal dining room Roehn had ever seen outside of a history book. Though it could never take the place of a King’s Great Hall, it was definitely big enough to fit his entire family plus half their neighbors.

Where the left wall ended, the room expanded into a more intimate alcove where a long banquet table of dark wood stood surrounded by no less than fifty throne backed chairs. Miniature Dragon’s Breath chandeliers hung at varying heights, creating a draping appearance over the table, which was adorned with glowing candelabras and fluted vases overflowing with fresh green foliage rather than flowers. Crystal figurines sparkled under the lights, tucked into the center pieces down the middle of an embroidered tablecloth.

Across the other side of the table, heavy drapes were tied back from the four wide and two-story high arched windows in the outer wall, but that wasn’t as mesmerizing as all of the things hanging around the room. Tapestries, swords, shields and the kind of standards one would see flying atop long poles. Roehn bypassed the carved serving cabinet laden with covered dishes, where Sajyn and his staff waited to serve their meal.

She approached the nearest hanging relics and marveled at the dirt stains, the wear of the fabric and frayed stitching. Her fingers yearned to trace the dents and scratches in the shields, smooth over the worn paint. Some held the Draea Coat of Arms, others just depicted a golden dragon. They were all real, well used, had never been crafted for their current decorative purpose. The swords were the only items still in immaculate condition, but that wasn’t surprising. Swords had long been a symbol of one’s status, since only the wealthy had been able to afford the best.

Roehn studied the enormous tapestries, trying to imagine how long and how many people it had taken to complete just one. The first depicted an ancient royal procession with gilded carriages and armored knights on horseback traveling to what appeared to be the very castle keep she was now standing inside of. In the scene, it stood like a stone giant surrounded by meadows and forests, rather than a ritzy, city neighborhood. The other was a well known battle scene between all the Dragon Houses and the Minotaurs, an extinct race.

“Leandra?”

Roehn turned to find that she’d wandered during her historian daze, drawn further away from the table where Arcylaen waited, holding a chair out for her.

“Sorry,” she blushed slightly. “I can’t help it.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But if you don’t eat soon, I’m worried you’ll fall over.”

As if to verify his concern, her stomach grumbled loudly and her face reddened with embarrassment. “Ugh, it’s pretty bad when you out-vote yourself,” she muttered under her breath.

Arcylaen laughed in a way she was coming to crave. Almost as if her smart mouth had the ability to take him by surprise. He scooted her chair in, then seated himself at the head of the table to her immediate left. Sajyn and his staff moved into action. Some carried dishes to set before them, uncovering them in a flourish of practiced grace, while others filled their crystal goblets with wine. The delicious aromas filled Roehn’s nostrils, triggering her saliva glands and another rumble from her empty stomach.

When the show was complete, Sajyn hustled the staff back into the kitchens to prepare for the next course.

“You know, they’re only doing this for you,” Arcylaen smiled at her in amusement. “We don’t get new guests very often, so they’re taking advantage of this rare opportunity to show off.”

“Oh,” she chuckled, flattered. “Well, I won’t disappoint them. I’m starving.”

“You don’t have to tell me something I already know, kitten,” he sighed, and dug into his own meal.

Heat spread up Roehn’s neck to gather in her cheeks again, only this time it was over the unexpected way his little pet name made her feel. It effected her on a more intimate level than his previous Kitty Cat nickname, though she couldn’t say why.

Rich barley soup was their first course, and Roehn had managed two delicious spoonfuls before the kitchen doors swung open and swished aggressively behind the Dragon who’d stormed into the room with a gruff attitude.

“Well, that happened,” Brejeir huffed, gesturing to Roehn and Arcylaen with a lifted hand.

Roehn watched Daelyn and two more male Dragons file into the room, stalking around Brej for the table. One of them was as golden as Arcylaen and the other was a dark brunette, though he still had the same gold-dusted eyes and matching Echelonite perched on his shoulder.

“Unfortunately,” Arcylaen replied darkly.

Roehn knew they were speaking of the Warden Rites. Arcylaen had most likely texted them while waiting for her to pack. He seemed the type to want to keep his most trusted apprised of every given situation, and there was no one Dragons trusted more than their own blood.

“Leandra, it’s good to see you again,” Daelyn said, before seating himself beside her and pouring his own wine. “Though, I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Roehn lifted her glass. “I’ll toast to that.”

Brejeir grabbed the bottle and lifted it. “Here, here,” he seconded, then poured a glass and downed half the contents. The staff had hurried out of the kitchen to serve the new arrivals, working around the Dragons as they meandered to their seats. “Can’t complain about finally having someone better to look at during meals than this lot, though.”

Roehn’s grin grew brighter, when Arcylan shot him a dark look. Unaffected, Brej claimed the chair directly across from her, and jerked his thumb at the two younger Dragons she’d yet to meet. “This is our second youngest brother, Ryver, and our cousin, Grevys.”

“Nice to meet you,” she greeted.

“Welcome to House Draea, Miss Leontle,” Ryver toasted. “It only gets crazier from here.”

Though Roehn reciprocated, clanking her glass to his, she had a sinking feeling his words rang with more truth than humor.

© A.C. Melody

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