Pact of Dragons

5

The last of the dragons morphed then, going from a pitch-black, mean-looking winged dino with yellow eyes into a man clothed completely in black who, although sinister and built like a professional quarterback, could otherwise pass for normal.
He had shoulder-length black hair and there was something Indian about him, with his burnished skin and flashing, moss-green eyes. He wore ebony leather over a lightweight, black shirt and a strange, dark-brown band with a large, golden emblem on his forehead that tamed at least most of his tousled black locks from his unbelievably good-looking face. Without a smile, he approached the line of girls. Oh, man.
Then, he was looking in her direction... Just great.
Rahel swallowed hard a few times and then uneasily turned her own gaze from him to the other men, who were serious, nervous, amused, or excited, by turn, as they stood across from their human offerings and appraised them energetically.
These others began to preen like teenagers, winking and grinning at each other, exchanging slaps on the back and directing their fiery eyes at them, looking dashing or even devilish. Slowly, they approached the line of young women, too.
Damned if this wasn't a scene.
A pair of guys at the back were true giants. They had paws for hands and their dull faces were so wide and flat-featured, they resembled nothing more than frying pans. Jesus! Had someone been using their faces as punching bags? Of course, it didn't appear to have slowed them down at all—quite the opposite. These two, you could probably ram an icepick through their skulls and they'd just grin and keep going...right over the enemy.
God in heaven...!
No wonder humanity had lost the War of the Dragons.

Rahel was still sunk in the truly terrifying spectacle of those two immense Dragoniers, who simply stood, muscle-bound arms folded and piggy little eyes staring from behind the more normal-looking, mischievous boys, as though they were their bodyguards. She didn't even notice that the good-looking, black-haired, quarterback-type was stepping up to the general who'd accompanied the women on delivery. Black-hair nodded to him shortly before approaching the line of young women, who were all looking at him, all on pins and needles but still defiant.
All except Rahel, of course, who was still ogling the giants, her palms sweating and heart beating as fast as a songbird's. No way did she want to end up with one of those.
Absolutely. No. Way!
"What's your name?" The tall quarterback was suddenly directly in front of her. She looked up at him, blinking, for he was almost three heads taller than her. Instead of answering him right away, she looked over at the human guards, all of whom were now evaluating her with wrinkled brows.
"Hey...? Aren't you into me, or why don't you answer?" he inquired, his tone strangely silky soft. The hair on the back of her neck stood up straight and she forgot briefly how to breath before turning her eyes to the guy again, cautiously. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the other boys laughing and slapping each other; then, she gave quarterback her full attention.
"What?" she asked, more confused than insolent, but of course it sounded much cheekier than she'd meant it. He chuckled a little and took a long look at her, from top to bottom. "You're one of the junkies, aren't you? They gave you something for the flight, didn't they? Are you high right now?" he asked in that genuinely tender tone. He almost came across as friendly, although he was of course barking up the wrong tree.
Rahel just took a deep breath to suppress her enraged response.
"I'm not a junky," she said, her anger only half stifled, and he raised his eyebrows, surprised.
"Well, okay then..." he responded, his eyes sparkling weirdly, and took a step towards her in order to bend to her, like a predator. Ay... He was truly terrifying. The skin of her back tightened and tingled with his nearness. Uh huh—this was going to go well.
"Better stay away from me!" she warned suddenly, her voice a furious hiss, and struck his chest with her hand, trying to look as sinister as possible, just so that the guy didn't think he'd have it easy with her. She felt immediately how densely built he was, stronger than his stature suggested, and that he wouldn't budge from her laughable little schoolgirl defense. In fact, he fell back from her a little and there was something completely different in his eyes now—admiration? Seriously?
Was he nuts?
"No need to be afraid of us dragons. Here, being human only gives you a valuable advantage," he murmured, his voice low and amused.
"In actual fact, I don't give a rat's ass about you animals!" she declared, all but trembling with the nerve of it and balling her hands into hard fists at her sides. By no means did she want to be chosen by this cat thief—but, again, his reaction surprised her.
He straightened up again, took another small step back, raked her with his eyes from head to toe, and now his gaze was authentically respectful. "And it's an even greater advantage when you show no fear before us. I am really impressed with you. Here! Take my hand!" he commanded quietly, extending his hand almost gallantly, in what could have been almost a bow.
"Why should I?" Rahel asked, deeply repelled. He laughed suddenly, with real glee, and turned to his dragon companions.
"I'm taking this one—the rest are for you. She is truly hard-core." he stated, jerking his thumb back at Rahel, who only looked at him uneasily and folded her arms behind her back as he reached for her hand again.
For a moment, his eyebrows shot up at this and her super sinister expression, but then he simply smiled and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her with him to the side. Rahel tried to get free and, to her surprise, after about ten feet he turned with her and actually let her go.