Darkest Flame

Kellan kept utterly still in his corner. The sound of water sloshing against stone woke him instantly. He opened on eye to see the normally glass-like surface of the water rippling violently as he caught sight of a human emerge from the water.

He barely had time to register it was a woman and breathing heavily before a second human joined her – this one male.

Kellan shifted his head. It had been many centuries since he’d seen a human, and quite frankly, he could go through eternity without seeing another. How he despised them.

He didn’t like his sleep being disturbed either. Yet, he knew Constantine wouldn’t be happy if he made himself known in his dragon form and ate the two intruders. As tempting as that might be.

His only other option would be to shift into human form and confront them. And that was too distasteful to even consider.

Kellan stayed in his spot and watched as the two circled each other. Nothing’s changed. Humans always fighting.

No matter how many centuries passed, no matter what country he visited, the humans were all the same. Selfish, belligerent, arrogant, greedy bastards.

Not that he cared how many humans killed each other. The more dead meant they were that much closer to the dragons returning home. It was because of the humans that dragons no longer ruled.

It was humans who had begun the war.

But it had been dragons who ended it.

The humans were talking. Kellan listened to their exchange with interest. He thought back to how many visits from Con he had gotten while he slept, and he realized it had been many, many, many centuries since he last woke.

Con’s visits every few decades kept those dragons who wished to sleep away centuries – or millennia – up to date on the world. So it wasn’t difficult for Kellan to make out what the humans were saying.

The male disliked the female by the way disdain dripped from his voice. Surprisingly, the female didn’t cower. She fought back, moving quickly – for a human – and striking the male deftly and accurately. None of her punches or kicks went astray.

Kellan smelled blood. The male had a broken nose and a cut lip, but the scent Kellan caught was strong, too strong for such paltry wounds.

His dragon eye’s locked on the female, and he caught sight of her left arm held protectively against her side. Blood ran thick and quick down her leg to drip upon the stones.

In a whirl, the female came up with a weapon of her own.

Kellan’s interest sharpened when the male said he wanted to wound the female. It wasn’t hard to guess she was to lure the dragons.

He inwardly snorted. Stupid humans. All thought dragons base creatures who wanted to either eat everything in sight or char it. How could he and the other Dragon Kings have fallen so far?

They used to rule the skies, the seas, and the earth. Every size dragon of every color had called Earth home. They had reigned supreme.

And for Kellan and the other Dragon Kings, it had been their right to rule their dragons, keeping everyone in line. That’s not to say there weren’t battles, but with one word from a Dragon King, everything would cease.

How Kellan longed for the days of old. He missed his dragons, and he missed being able to take to the skies whenever he wanted. It’s one of the many reasons he decided to sleep away the time. He couldn’t look upon the Earth and humans without wanting to kill them all.

Kellan was impressed with the female, even as he hated to admit it. She was a valiant fighter, and though she was wounded, she was winning.

She moved in a lightning-quick spin before she kicked her opponent to the ground. Then she landed on top of him and sunk her blade in his heart.

Just like that, the battle was over.

The female had lost too much blood. She couldn’t swim back out, and she didn’t know her way through the caves of the mountain to seek help.

The only one that could help her was Kellan. And that wasn’t going to happen.

He wouldn’t return to sleep, however, until she had breathed her last. Kellan expected her to fall over and die, or try to find her way out.

Instead, she kicked the male away and leaned back against a boulder before pulling some sticks from a pocket on the leg of her skin-tight suit. She bent them, and with a slight pop, green light shown around her.

She set those aside and took another small pack from a pocket next to her ankle on her other leg. Her breathing was harsh, and sweat coated her skin.

“Shit,” she murmured and swallowed audibly.

Her accent wasn’t Scots or British. Kellan went through all the dialects Con had played for him over the centuries in his mind until he reached American.

Could that be why the Brit hadn’t cared for her? It was a silly reason, but then again, humans rarely made sense.

Kellan forgot about accents as the female reached behind her and grabbed something. There was a zipping noise before her black suit loosened.

With a grunt she pulled her right arm out of the black material before carefully extracting her left. She pushed the thick fabric down, giving Kellan a view of a small top that held her breasts. A bathing suit, he recalled.

Her chest heaved from the pain and her skin grew pale. Once more she took the small black parcel she pulled from the pocket of her leg and opened it. She grabbed a white packet and tore it open using her teeth. She briefly closed her eyes before pouring the tiny granules over her wound.

A gasp passed her lips as she jerked from the contact. Kellan never had much to say about humans, but he had to give the female credit. Her hands were coated with blood, her arms shook, she was weak, and it was dark, yet she never gave up.

His interest peaked when he saw her pull out a curved needle and thread. With her wound on her left side, she had to twist to see it, yet she managed to get several stitches done before she slowly fell unconscious.

For long minutes Kellan stared at her. The female was slumped to her side, her breathing low and irregular. He didn’t need to go to her to know a fever raged.