DragonRider by S. Rodman
its claws into me. Standing here on my own, twiddling my thumbs feels so damn awkward. Maybe I should leave.
Footsteps sound behind me, and I whirl to face them. An audible gasp escapes me, but thankfully I think he is too far away to hear it. Is everyone in this place insanely good looking? Is it something in the water?
This guy is tall, though not as tall as Mordecai. He is broader too, filled out with muscles that his tight tee shirt does nothing to hide. His skin is golden, either a really good tan or Mediterranean ancestry, I can’t tell. He has a mop of dark curls and warm brown eyes. And a bright smile.
He closes the distance between us in no time and holds out his hand. Numbly I offer my own and am soon engulfed in a vigorous handshake. His hand is larger than mine, calloused and chucking out some fierce heat. I don’t want to let it go.
“Hi!” he says brightly. “I’m Harlen.” He sounds English, like me.
“Kirby.” Some part of my brain that is still functioning, manages to reply.
“Nice to meet you!” he grins.
I stare at him blankly. He is like an exuberant force of nature. Blowing me away with his sheer presence. It’s every bit as intense as Mordecai’s, but so very different. Harlen is sunshine, and Mordecai is pale moonlight.
“So Cai dropped the dragon bomb on you and then scarpered?” says Harlen with a wry grin.
I blink for a moment before stuttering out, “Yeah.” My gaze nervously flicks to where Mordecai stormed off, as if I think he is going to come striding back in fury.
Harlen follows my gaze and then clasps my shoulder.
“Don’t worry about Cai, he is a prickly bastard, but he is adorable once you get to know him.”
I can’t stop the incredulous and disbelieving look that is spreading across my face. Mordecai and adorable are not things that go together, in any universe. Harlen gives a hearty laugh. I guess he is not offended that I don’t believe him, which is a relief I suppose. But then - wait a minute. Harlen said ‘Dragon bomb’ and I completely ignored it to fixate on Mordecai. Talk about messed up priorities.
“Dragons!” I exclaim suddenly. “You think dragons are real too?”
It’s not just Mordecai who is deluded? Maybe it’s one of those shared delusions? I’ve heard of those. They are rare and bizarre but still make a hell of a lot more sense than Dragons existing but no one in the paranormal community knowing about them. Maybe there really is something in the water here, something that makes people incredibly hot and completely insane?
Harlen grins again. “You’ll be meeting one soon enough. There is just about enough time for a tour of the castle first.”
I shake my head. “Fuck the castle! Explain this dragon shit to me!”
My hands smack over my mouth in horror. What on earth is wrong with me? Why am I being so rude?
“I’m sorry,” I mumble through my hands.
“As fiery as your hair,” says Harlen with a truly filthy wink that flips my stomach over.
Oh hells. Now I’m annoyed at the red head joke and completely bamboozled by his apparent flirting. He is way too hot to be flirting with me. He is easily a ten and I scrape a four on a good day. That knowledge does nothing to dampen my libido. It registered the flirtatious wink and is now all sorts of excited. Swooning in his arms is a real possibility. Fuck.
“Tell me about dragons,” I plead with gritted teeth. I need the distraction before I embarrass myself even more than I already have.
Harlen’s expression sobers. “Shall we go sit down somewhere? It’s going to be a lot to take in.”
I shake my head. “Just tell me, please.”
“Okay then,” says Harlen. “So, dragons are real. There are families of dragon riders who bond with them, and we ride them at night to stop interdimensional beings attacking Earth.”
I really should have taken that seat.
“I beg your pardon?”
Okay, at least my shock is making me polite now, instead of rude. That’s an improvement.
Harlen gives me a truly scrutinising look. “How about we find a seat and a cup of tea?” He seems worried. As if he thinks I might be about to faint.
“Yes, alright,” I mutter, since I do feel a little lightheaded.
He takes my arm and starts guiding me to one of the doors. Normally I hate being touched, nevermind being led around like a puppy, but for some reason this doesn’t bother me at all. It actually feels nice. Comforting. Reassuring.
Before I really know what is happening, Harlen takes me to a surprisingly normal looking living room, sits me on a very comfortable sofa and shoves a cup of sweet milky tea into my shaking hands.
“Interdimensional beings?” I whisper after taking a sip.
“Ah yes. Think of them as demons or aliens. Whichever works for you. We call them tylwyth.”
I stare at him in complete bewilderment for a few heartbeats. “Demons or aliens, but you call them Welsh fairies?”
Harlen laughs. “It’s all the same thing. Beings from somewhere else, not of this realm.”
A shudder rushes through me. “Why are you fighting them?”
“They open small portals high up in the sky, only big enough for one tylwyth to pass through. They try to reach the ground, especially specific places like stone circles and the pyramids. We suspect once there, they can use devices to open up a huge portal and let the mother ship or demon horde through, depending on how you are choosing to think of it.”
“You suspect?”
I watch mesmerised as a truly shit-eating grin spreads across Harlen’s face. His teeth are white and gleaming. Perfect just like the rest of him.
“Suspect, because in hundreds of years we’ve never let a single bastard make it.”
I’m back to staring. But it seems Harlen is on a roll now and doesn’t need me to say anything.
“Dragons enable us to reach the portals. Riders close the portals and both of us together chase the bastards down the sky, eating, incinerating, decapitating or impaling, whatever works. Just as long as they don’t reach earth alive.”
The only thing I can do is blink. My mind has shut down access to every other part of my body. I guess it needs every brain cell it can muster to try to process what I just heard. The words Harlen said just don’t make sense. Maybe I’m the crazy one? Maybe this is all a hallucination? Maybe I drove around for too long in my shitty car and now have, I don’t know, carbon monoxide poisoning or something? Or I spun off the road and crashed down the mountain and this is all just a coma dream.
My gaze rakes over Harlen’s perfect body. Well, I give my imagination ten out of ten for conjuring hot guys. Mordecai was complete wet dream material too. Why is my subconscious so horny? It hasn’t been that long since I got laid. I mean two years is nothing, right? Okay, okay, as soon as I wake up, I’m going to hunt down some action. Anything to stop my mind from pulling an intervention like this again.
I wince as I catch up with my train of thought. Mordecai and Harlen aren’t real? Just figments of my imagination? That hurts. A lot. It feels like grief and makes my chest tight. I want them to be real. I want dragons to be real.
“Are you alright?” asks Harlen.
“No, not really,” I confess.
He gives me a soft smile and places a warm hand on my knee. The feel of his touch sets my entire body tingling.
“Don’t worry, it’s very likely Ri won’t choose you and Cai will erase your memories. You only have to deal with this for a couple of hours.”
I glare at Harlen. Why is everyone so convinced that I won’t be chosen? Do I come across as unworthy? I’m a damn good mage and I’d make a magnificent dragon rider, thank you very much!
“I don’t want my memories erased,” is all I say. I really need to work on my assertiveness.
Harlen’s smile turns sympathetic. “It won’t hurt.”
That’s really not the point. I don’t want anyone rummaging in my mind, tampering with things. The whole idea feels squicky and far too intimate.
“Will I remember you?”
I can’t believe I just said that. I stare at Harlen and fight to keep the horror off my face. Play it cool, like a cat. Pretend that I meant to say that and I’m totally fine with it.
“I’m afraid not,” he says gently, but with a gleam in his eyes.
He likes that I want to remember him. I guess it is an ego boost. I’d definitely be flattered. Thing is, is he actually interested in me, or does he merely love the idea of anyone not wanting to forget him?
“How long is your hair?” he asks suddenly.
My hand flies up to my messy man bun and I feel a flush spread across my cheeks. “Why?”
“I’ve been trying to imagine it loose, and it’s driving me crazy,” he says with a very naughty smirk.
I swallow dryly as my heart races in my chest. “Stupidly long.”
He tilts his head. “Is it a religious thing?”
“No! Well, only accidentally. I heard the story of Samson and Delilah when I was young and refused to have my hair cut and it just sort of stuck. Then my ex was always on about me cutting it and it was the only thing I ever stood up to him on, so I’m keeping it now. As a reminder.”
Oh. My. God. Why did I just say all that? What the hell is wrong with me? Way to kill a mood. The correct response would have been to give him a sultry look and say something like, ‘why don’t we go somewhere private so I can show you how long it is?’
This is why I’ve not been laid for two years. Nothing to do with trauma from my ex. Just my complete and utter inability to flirt.
“Your ex sounds like an asshole,” says Harlen kindly.
Yep, mood well and truly ruined. His interest has been replaced with pity. Just fucking great. I can feel the disappointment rolling in my belly. A physical manifestation of my feelings of failure.
I take a deep breath and try to calm down. It’s fine. If the flirting had gone well, the sex would have been a disaster. So it’s all good. I’ve never had a random hookup and I’m terrible in bed, so this humiliation is far better than getting that far, only to have Harlen disappointed in me.
The fantasy of engaging in casual sex is far more enticing than the real thing would ever be.
“Ready to meet a dragon?” asks Harlen.
I nearly spit out my tea. “What, right now?”
“It’s time for the ceremony,” he grins.
Well, fuck me.