Drakkon ✓ (Le'vris Dragons Book 1)

2

Its huge head pulls away from me, and I'm convinced it's about to open its mouth and evaporate me. My own lips part, ready to exhale my last sigh before all that remains of me is smoke and ashes. I look at the sun. It burns my eyes. A precursor of what's coming.

My last thoughts are of camping with my family in the Old Times. I would sit around the campfire, swatting away flying insects, and being clueless that the two would soon combine to create an abomination.

The thing stands, momentarily letting me go. Instinct drives me. I scramble onto my hands and knees, prepared to dash for the underground I crawled out of. I'd rather rot in the underbelly of the city than in the belly of this beast.

Something snares around my waist, and I'm suspended. The move is so unexpected that I heave. The ground shrinks, and my terror and the rest of me soars.

If any human on the ground is watching this dragon fly away with me in its clutches, they're probably gaping.

I pull at the thing's scaly, sharp talons, because I prefer falling to my death than finding out what this animal has planned for me. He holds me so tightly that it's hard to breathe. Hopefully, I'll suffocate before we reach our destination.

Although the sun is out, it's freezing up here. The bitter wind slams into me, and my short hair flutters around my face in melody with the screams I'm releasing. It's so cold that a death by fire seems alluring.

The dragons flies low and slowly. Usually it's the opposite. It's like he knows I can't survive harsher conditions.

From this altitude, I can see the reign of destruction the king of death above me has rained on my city. Buildings are collapsed, cars exploded, but the worst part of it all is that there are more rats scurrying on the surface than there are humans.

My screams of terror are louder than the wind in my ears. I'm sure that the humans underground can hear my cry, and feel scales on their backs as a chill works down their spine. I'm sure they all have their eyes shut tight, and they're curled into a tight ball as if trying to become smaller than what they already are.

In the Old Times, our cultures used to love watching violence in movies and films. There was a morbid curiosity that kept us driving slowly when we passed a car accident on the road, trying to see some gore. Now? We have been fed enough gore. Now we look away when a stranger is scorched alive.

It begins to snow. The flecks feel like needles on my skin, but the trip is short. The dragon flies to a skyscraper with a flat roof, landing on one talon to release me. I lose balance and fall on my knees on the cold concrete.

There's nowhere to go. The roof is surrounded by fencing that prevents me from jumping to my death.

I scramble into a corner, and I wrap my arms around my legs. Is this how the roaches in my apartment felt when my foot hovered over them?

The thing... sits on its hint legs and stares at me. I don't know what to make of this bizarre situation. The tears I'm holding back are like stab wounds I've tried to clog, but are starting to bleed out.

Does the dragon want to make a game out of this before it kills me? Just when I thought these monsters couldn't get worse, I'm proven wrong.

We begin this fucked up game of statue, neither of us moving. I soon lose, because the chill in the air penetrates my coat, which has more holes than pockets. I tremble out of fear and cold. Two birds with one stone.

The thing crooks its head. I hate how human the gesture makes him look. He is not one of us. He is the end of us.

As if he read my disapproving thoughts, he spreads his wings wide. I tense so roughly that my head slams against the wall.

Instead of attacking or taking flight, the red dragon just keeps his wings expanded. The wind no longer hits me as strongly, and the snow has been blocked out. I study the massive sheets of skin. They're translucent, the weak sun shining through them. They're also thin. It would be easy to puncture them, which is why it makes no sense that he has them expanded.

I can tell this is a young dragon. The older ones have darker talons, as if they've drawn enough blood to taint themselves with that distinguished shade. He is male, too. All dragons are male. Not a single female has been found.

I think an hour has passed. I've thought of my sister and my death every minute. She won't survive without me. Daisy has always been attached to my hip.

I'm a fucking idiot. I didn't make it five minutes out here.

My trembling gets worse. To the point that I worry about hypothermia and frostbite. I'm hungry, too. My stomach has been growling louder than the wind, but I dropped my backpack on the street so there's nothing to eat.

Other than shaking the snow off its wings a few times, the dragon hasn't moved. I've been tempted to make runs for it, but the door that leads into the building is blocked by him.

More minutes and trembling later, his wings retract to shake off more snow. Instead of returning to their normal position, they lift and fly him off the roof.

I dash for the door instantly, slipping on some ice. My freezing fingers grab the metal knob and twist, but the door remains stubborn. I kick it once, twice, and a few more times until I've worked up a sweat.

The familiar sound of flapping makes me scurry back to my corner. The dragon is back, and it's carrying something in its talons. As he descends, I realize he has my backpack and a tin garbage can that humans use to burn newspaper and stay warm.

He kicks the backpack over to me, and I slowly take it. My numb fingers struggle on the zipper, but I eventually open it and take a fruit bar. With my wide eyes on him, I remove the bar from the wrapper and I nibble on it.

He looks away from me and nudges the garbage can with his nose and talon until it's standing upright.

Since he's not observing me anymore, I take greedier, faster bites, as if he'll take it from me.

He blows a small flame into the can. It's a foot wide, but enough to make me jump. The flame is so hot that I can feel it from where I'm sitting. In my shock, I drop what remains of my fruit bar.

The garbage can continues to burn. The dragon expands his wings to block the snow and returns his eyes to me.

He lit the thing... to warm me? To show off his fire?

He steps away from the burning garbage can, towards me. His head descends, and he sniffs my fruit bar, and then me.

I shut my eyes. "God... God... get off me," I whisper.

Having his breath against me feels disgusting. When he presses his head against my side, I hiss, because there's pain. I touch my belly and find blood. His talons punctured me, and I didn't notice because of the adrenaline and cold. I don't know how deep the wound is, and I can't inspect it either, because I don't want the scent of blood to excite him.

The sound of bones popping and snapping makes me look away from my side. The dragon is.... shrinking.

He's shifting! Oh, no. He's revealing his human form. Why do I find it more menacing than his dragon form?

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