Dane's Lair Page 2

  Chapter 2

  “What the fuck were you thinking, Noah?” growled Dane, jamming the frail man against the wall. Noah’s face grew red as Dane’s rage filled the space, pushing the air from Noah’s lungs. Dane released him and he slumped to the floor, wheezing. Ice filled Dane’s voice as he stooped next to Noah and hissed, “Are you trying to kill me?”

  Noah held his hand up and shook his head, still gasping for air.

  “Well what was that?” demanded Dane. He resisted the urge to take Noah’s life force instead. As dirty as it was.

  “I’m… sorry,” said Noah, sitting on the concrete floor. Above their heads, a lone bulb hung from the cracked wooden ceiling, casting Dane’s shadow across Noah’s face. “She was fine when she came in yesterday. I swear!”

  “That woman almost took her own life,” said Dane, straightening up. “You know I cannot absorb the life force of a human with no will to live!” Sickness rose within him as he glared down at the shaking harvester. He had thought himself fortunate to find someone well versed in the history and needs of the dragons. Noah Berkshire had found Dane at the forest’s edge, trying to take the life force of a young deer. Dane had been naked and shivering, his ribs outlined by his white pasty flesh. Noah had stopped him before he poisoned himself and brought him back to the inn. That night Dane had feasted on three human souls.

  “Let’s see them,” said Noah, standing.

  “See what?” said Dane.

  “Your wings.”

  Dane removed his shirt and turned, allowing Noah to run his hand along his back. In human form, Dane’s wings receded into his smooth flesh, appearing to the untrained eye as a masterful tattoo. Only the movement of shadows indicated that this was no mere human creation. Dane stiffened as Noah’s hands pressed into his flesh.

  “They’re fading,” said Noah. “You need to feed.”

  Dane turned to face the small man. At six and a half feet tall, Dane towered over almost everyone. Noah may have been only a few inches shorter than Dane in his youth, but age had dwindled his height.

  “Yes, I need to feed,” said Dane through clenched teeth. “That’s what you’re here for.”

  “I know,” said Noah, rubbing his face in frustration. “She was fine when she checked in yesterday. I had no idea-”

  “That she was a murderer?” interrupted Dane. Could Noah have known that Dane would respond to her the way he did?

  “Her aura was pure,” said Noah. “But I’ll admit… a darkness followed.”

  “A darkness?” said Dane.

  “I didn’t think anything of it…” said Noah, glancing up at Dane.

  Dane suppressed the urge to throttle the wise sage who was proving himself to be anything but.

  “She was filled with anger… and sorrow from a terrible loss,” said Noah. “I had no idea it would be so... intense.”

  “It’s been six months, Noah,” sighed Dane.

  “I know…” said Noah, placing a hand on Dane’s broad arm. “I won’t fail you again. She leaves tonight.”

  “No,” said Dane, hoping Noah didn’t notice the desperate edge in his voice.  

  Noah cocked his head to one side, like a wolf hearing an unfamiliar sound. “No?” he repeated.

  “Not tonight,” said Dane, avoiding Noah’s steady gaze.

  “Why not?” asked Noah.

  “I’m not in any hurry…”

  “You should be!” Noah paused, stroking his beard. “You gave yourself to her, didn’t you? You gave her some of your life force!”

  The need to consume human life rose within Dane, drowning him with its intensity. “I’ll take it back tonight,” he said. “She needed a reason to live.”

  “And when her will to live returned, why didn’t you consume her then?” Noah prodded.

  Dane ran his fingers through his ghostly hair. He thought of Athens’ teal eyes and how he had drowned in their depths. She was prime for his taking but he had walked away as she slept. “Tonight,” repeated Dane.

  “Tonight may be too late, Dane,” Noah continued, “if she is with child.”

  Dane’s eyes widened. Centuries had passed since a woman bore his child. Neither had lived. He had no heir. No bloodline. Suppressing the need for one, Dane chose to rely on his own immortality.

  “You must take a life force tonight,” said Noah. “I will search for someone suitable.”

  Despite his reluctance, Dane nodded. He would consume someone else’s life force and forget about the woman who slept two floors above his head. “I’ll be back after sundown,” he said.

  Dane left Noah pouring over the guestbook in the dank storeroom under his office. A light mist fell as he trotted away from the inn’s heavy oak door and into the English forest. The eastern sky glowed with the approaching sunrise and he inhaled deeply, seeking the scent of human blood in the building behind him. Instead, the scent of woodsy, feminine life filled his nostrils. He snarled in frustration as hunger permeated him. Not the hunger for human life to sustain him. But the hunger he had first experienced as he made contact with her smooth skin. The hunger which had been satiated as he fed his own life into her.

  Facing the inn, Dane looked up at the window to the room where she lay, fighting to ignore his internal war. The sting of Noah’s warning had faded in the light rain. Yes, he needed to feed. But not as much as he needed her.

  Through the blur of trees on either side, Dane raced through the woods to the edge of a cliff - his cliff - overlooking the raging Atlantic waters. Ripping his shirt off, he roared as he leapt off the precipice, willing his wings to swell to their twelve-foot span. Terror filled him as he plummeted towards the vicious waves. Black waters rose to meet Dane and he closed his eyes. His hands became talons, ripping apart the human skin covering them. Pain seared through him as his skull stretched and distorted, tearing his face to shreds, morphing into a dragon’s head. Black iridescent scales formed from hardened, cracked skin until they covered his torso. Still his wings remained pressed into his back, and his tail showed no hint of its existence. Dane plunged to the ocean’s surface, his body part man, part dragon. An abomination to both species. He drew his last shreds of energy together and focused on his quivering wings. At about thirty feet above the ferocious waves, Dane’s wings unfolded. They were less than two-thirds of their full span, but they extended just enough to catch the north wind and hurl him against the rocky cliff.

  Talons gripped the rock and Dane grimaced as his human muscles strained under the weight of his mutated body. His wings drooped behind him while he held the rock, pressing his snout into the slippery limestone. His legs fumbled beneath him, searching for a place to bury their claws into the stone. Dane’s grasp tightened as he realized that his feet were still human, and his tail still had not grown. He examined the waves crashing into the jagged rock below. To his right, a sliver of sand offered a soft place to land. Dane closed his eyes, timing the wind whipping about his shaking body. Grateful for the scales covering him, Dane leapt off the cliff, extending his wings as far as they would go. He crashed and tumbled along the sand below, his wings wrapping themselves around his scaly chest. A revolting crunch echoed as his head collided with the jagged edge of a rock. Sharp pain jolted him and he lay breathless on the sand as icy seawater sprayed his face.

  The beach seemed deserted from the air, but Dane didn’t intend to risk being seen by a passing human. He rolled and pushed himself up on all fours, prepared to scamper into the sliver between the rock that had broken his fall and the rest of the cliff. Dane froze and stared down at his limbs. His talons had disappeared. Wetness spread from his head and Dane plopped on the damp sand, raising his hand slowly. He pressed his fingers to his cheek, expecting to feel the sharp prick of barbs growing out of the sides of his dragon face. He cursed as his hand met soft flesh, slippery with something thick that oozed through his fingers and dripped down his arm. He knew without looking that it was blood and he shuddered as nausea gripped him.

  Forcing himself t
o stand, Dane leaned on the rock, staring at his tattered body. Human flesh covered taut muscle, marred in several places by red gashes where the rock had sliced into him on the cliff. Dane swallowed the thought that his scales had not protected him… that they had not completed their formation. Water washed over the sand and Dane stumbled towards it, his head throbbing. The sky had lightened and Dane’s gaze darted along the small beach, scoping its sandy surface for any movement.

  Dane’s knees sank into the waterlogged sand and he realized that he still wore pants, his legs having remained unchanged through the ordeal. He wiped his head, wincing at the unfamiliar pain, which flared up with every touch of the salty water. His crimson blood dissolved into the vastness of the ocean as the sky flushed with the rising sun. Dane sat silently watching the heavens, wondering if – after three thousand years – a new era was about to dawn, ending his.