Freedom's Fall (3 page)

Dev knew it wasn’t that simple, although he wished it were. “She
might not want us to take care of her. She’s been traumatized, raped, beaten
and who knows what else. It’s quite likely that once the immediate threat is
gone she’ll race out of the den like her skirts are on fire.”

Rye grunted. “If only she wore skirts. Those outfits she
wears around the den don’t leave enough to the imagination.”

That was true. Tansy’s strong limbs and subtle curves had
fueled many a fantasy for both Enforcers. “Your imagination doesn’t need any
help. You jerk off often enough as it is.”

“I can’t help it.” Rye’s smile was grim. “Every time I get a
hint of her scent it goes straight to my cock.”

Unfortunately Rye wasn’t alone in that particular situation.
Dev’s hand was getting such hard use he was surprised he had any skin left on
his palm.

He sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. “I think what
she needs most from us is time.”

Rye placed a heavy hand on Dev’s shoulder. “You’d better be
right, my brother. Because if I’ve been sitting on my hands when she’d rather
we made a move, I will personally break every bone in your wrong-call body.”

Dev acknowledged the threat with a nod. “I’ll consider
myself on notice.”

The trouble was that Dev was as clueless as Rye. He didn’t
know what Tansy needed—he was simply relying on instinct and his desire to do
the right thing. Hopefully when their houseguest was ready she would come to
them and ask them for what she wanted. And with any luck, they’d be able to
give it to her.

Tansy curled up on the sofa with a pen and paper, scribbling
out her thoughts and feelings, trying to sift through the crap without digging
too deeply into the experiences that had created them. She was determined to
face what had happened to her and to find a way to get past it. What she didn’t
need was a day-by-day inventory of the pain and degradation she’d suffered. So
she tried, with varying degrees of success, to separate her emotions from the
events that had created them. Writing down her feelings was a trick her mother
had taught her from a very young age. She was firm in the conviction that once
those emotions were out of her body and on the page, their power to hurt was
greatly diminished.

Tansy had scribbled herself stupid, but she was under no
illusions about how hard her road to recovery was going to be. She was on her
fourth page and starting to flag when she was given a very welcome distraction.

With a pop and a shower of mid-air sparks, her little friend
Oskaal appeared. He was average size for a dragonet, about three meters long
from nose to tail, and his particular color scheme ranged from bright gold to
dark chocolate. The sun danced across his scales in a river of sparkles and the
lower edge of his wing membrane was embellished with fluted ovals that
resembled the design of a peacock feather. He was fine-boned, appearing more
seahorse than dragon, and he loved nothing more than to curl up in her lap and
be stroked to sleep.

All the Earth women living in the den had been assigned a
dragonet companion. They couldn’t talk mind-to-mind like the battle dragons,
but the dragonets could pop in and out at a moment’s notice and run messages.
Tansy had been told that if a dragonet spent enough time with a person they
could track him or her anywhere on Gemarra. The Enforcers thought the dragonets
were a good insurance policy—in fact they’d already
saved Sorcha’s life—but Tansy valued Oskaal most for
his company. He was smart, interactive and entirely without judgment. He was
the perfect cross between a friend and a pet.

Oskaal flew down to the couch and pushed the notepad out of
her hands, cramming himself onto her lap and giving an impatient trill. He was
determined to be petted to sleep, and Tansy was happy to oblige him, sweeping
her hand down the length of his back from head to tail. He shuddered with
pleasure, a steady purr rolling in his chest. The vibration and heat from the
dragonet acted like a soporific and Tansy could feel herself relaxing. Her mind
fell quiet and she sank back onto the couch, the tension draining out of her
body.

When Sorcha called out to announce her presence, Tansy was
slow to rouse. Oskaal had no such problems. His purring stopped and he jerked
himself to his feet. Standing half on the couch and half on Tansy, he glared at
the doorway.

Tansy smiled in welcome as Sorcha entered the room, but
Oskaal sent a mean and deliberate hiss her way. The dragonet was clearly
unhappy to have his nap time interrupted.

Sorcha’s smile was equally mean. Her bright-red hair flowed
free to her waist and her pale-green eyes sparked when she looked at Oskaal.
She stalked across the room, the elegant motion of her body given power when
she fixed her hand on her hips. Tansy stroked her hands over the grumpy
dragonet, knowing he’d lost this battle before it even started.

“Good morning, Oskaal,” Sorcha said, baring her teeth. “Would
you like to be civil or would you like me to explain to Tengale how you growled
at me and hurt my feelings?”

Poor Oskaal squeaked, shot into the air and disappeared with
a hasty pop.

A laughing Sorcha dusted off her hands. “And that’s what
happens when the biggest, meanest dragon in the den claims you as his pet.” She
fell onto the couch next to Tansy. “It’s good to be me.”

Tansy chuckled. Sorcha was a powerhouse in her own right.
With the weight of the two senior dragons in the den behind her, she got her
own way more often than not. Even her mates gave in to her, though not always
with good grace. One of Sorcha’s husbands, Jaxmyre Randovar, was the den commander
and he didn’t like being told what to do by anybody. Kaelum Sentrellovere, her
other husband, was a sweet, generous man who seemed to be the peacemaker of
their family.

Jax and Kae’s battle dragons, Tengale and Jaysada, had
firmly and irrevocably claimed Sorcha as their pet, and the fiery Bostonian had
no qualms about throwing Tengale’s weight around.

Sorcha slapped the couch cushion. “So, koala girl, are you
ready for your dragon-talking lesson?”

“Koala girl?” Tansy couldn’t help cracking a smile despite
the hokey nickname.

“Yep. As you are one of only two Aussies in our little
community, I want to be culturally sensitive.”

Tansy snorted. Sensitive her ass. Sorcha grinned and kept
talking. “I call Chelsea kangaroo girl, so that one’s taken, but koalas are
cute. Right?”

Only if you’d never heard them grunting and squealing in the
middle of the night. Tansy’s dad loved camping and insisted that it bonded the
family. He particularly enjoyed the rustic, natural appeal of bush campsites
with no facilities. After learning to dig a hole to go to the bathroom, koalas
had been the least of her childhood worries.

Tansy refrained from enlightening her American friend on the
realities of wildlife in the Australian bush. Instead she chose to focus on her
Concern of the Moment—because god knew, she had plenty
to choose from.

“About the dragon-talking thing,” Tansy said, half tempted
to simply nix the idea altogether. “I’m not sure I want a den full of scary and
scaly blabbing away inside my mind.”

“I don’t blame you.” Sorcha shuddered. “I wouldn’t want that
either. But you can relax—only Fellescend and Zenbaylan
will communicate with you.” She winked in a way that wasn’t reassuring and
Tansy could almost feel herself being railroaded.

Sorcha sailed on, oblivious. “Usually the blacks won’t talk
to anyone but the two Enforcers they’re partnered with. Happily—or unhappily—for us, the ones who
carried us back from the rescue mission now consider us their pets.” Sorcha
pulled a face that suggested that acquisitive claim could go either way. “They’re
also very territorial. Tengale and Jaysada will only talk to me, Benmonth and
Annlyss will only talk to Chelsea, and Fellescend and Zenbaylan have reserved
their privilege for you.”

Tansy rubbed her eyes, trying to get her head around the
idea of talking to someone mind to mind. Or was a dragon some
thing
?

The concept was a two-edged sword, though there was no
denying the advantage of scaly communication. If she could “talk” to Dev and
Rye’s dragons, it would give her an immeasurable level of security. And as
their pet, she would belong in the den regardless of her relationship with Dev
and Rye.

But the downside was her fear of flying. The dragons seemed
too arrogant not to call her out if they knew about her phobia. She wasn’t sure
she was ready to deal with that on top of everything else she was juggling.

Unfortunately Sorcha didn’t seem to be in the mood to take
no for an answer. And—aside from confessing the truth—Tansy had no real excuse not to commit to a dragony mind
meld.

Deciding to tough it out, Tansy took a deep breath. “So I’ll
only have to communicate with Fellescend and Zenbaylan. Nobody else will be in
my head.”

Sorcha’s laugh pealed out. “No, they won’t let anyone else
talk to you. And I can assure you two is more than enough to be going on with.
Being a dragon’s pet sure has its perks but it’s not all sunshine and
champagne.” She gave Tansy a frank look. “They can be kind of irritating, and
the arrogance—sweet Mary, you have no idea. But that’s
small potatoes compared to the good stuff.”

“Like what?” Tansy was intrigued despite her reservations.

Sorcha grinned. “No matter what’s going on in your life,
they will be on your side, even if you’re completely at fault. When I first got
together with Jax and Kae we had a little hiccup and I went running to their
dragons. Jaysada let me sleep in her arms and Tengale wouldn’t let those
ass-hats come anywhere near me.” Sorcha reached out and laid a hand on Tansy’s
knee. “Truly there is nothing safer than the love of a dragon. If it hadn’t
been for Tengale and Jaysada I’d be dead by now, and that alone should have you
scrambling into the lair.”

Tansy bit her lip. The picture that Sorcha painted was so
very, very tempting. “I know you’re right, but the thought of the dragons
crawling around in my head—or anyone, really—makes my stomach churn.”

“Oh, I see what the problem is,” Sorcha said, waving a
negligent hand in the air. “You think if you open up they’ll have unlimited
access to your mind, but that’s not how it works. Talking to a dragon is like
talking to a person. They can hear your words, watch your body language and be
guided by your tone.” She turned to face Tansy and tucked her feet up on the
cushions. “For example, when we talk I can make an educated guess about what
you’re feeling but I can’t read your mind. Neither can Fellescend or Zenbaylan.”

Okay, that didn’t sound so scary. “So they’ll only hear what
I think at them?”

“Yes, pretty much.”

That “pretty much” was completely equivocal and raised all
sorts of questions. But Tansy knew she couldn’t afford to fight this battle—her sense of safety was too important to her recovery. She’d
just have to brazen her way through. Somehow she’d have to hide her emotions from
Fellescend and Zenbaylan. Her feelings regarding her ordeal, her phobia and her
inappropriate crushes were nobody’s business but her own. Right now she didn’t
want anyone, skin or scale, to know just how fucked up she was.

She was still trying to shore up her defenses when Sorcha
grabbed her by the hand, dragging Tansy to her feet. Taking advantage of their
momentum, her determined friend led her out of the Enforcer part of the den
into the section of the living quarters that was the domain of the blacks.

Fellescend and Zenbaylan were waiting, yellow eyes alert and
their wings tucked back tight against their bodies. The battle dragons ranged
in color from pale gray to blue-black, but Fellescend and Zenbaylan were almost
evenly matched in the hue of their smoke-gray scales. Fellescend wriggled in
excitement and Tansy was amazed that a creature who was the size of a small
plane could appear so puppy-like.

His excitement was contagious and Tansy found herself
hurrying forward, her spirits lifting in unexpected anticipation.

The dragons rested on a huge bed of fine, white sand. As
Tansy stepped over the low retaining wall, the soft slide of it under her feet
reminded her of home. She squished her toes a bit deeper and turned to Sorcha.

“When we were kids, we used to holiday on the beach and the
sand was exactly like this.” Her memories of summer always included warm sand,
salt-encrusted skin and the smell of sunscreen.

“Maybe we should bring in some water and make sand castles,”
Sorcha said.

Tansy grinned. “Maybe Chelsea and I should teach you how to
play beach cricket.” She tried to picture her American friend with a cricket
bat in her hand, but the image wouldn’t come.

Sorcha laughed but didn’t get a chance to reply because
Fellescend ran out of patience. He snorted, enveloping the women in a cloud of
smoke and sending them both into a coughing fit. By the time Tansy had recovered,
Fellescend had his neck and chin stretched out on the sand, and his nostrils were
practically resting on her toes.

Sorcha got the message and gestured her forward. “They like
full-body contact. Just lie along his muzzle, wrap your arms around his cheeks
and rest your forehead against his.”

Tansy blinked. She was tall for a woman, at almost five
nine, yet if she did as Sorcha suggested it would only just bring her to eye
level with Fellescend. She shuffled forward, tried not to think about his
razor-sharp teeth, and plastered herself to his hard, scaly head.

“Just relax,” Sorcha said, as if it were nothing more than a
matter of willpower. “Close your eyes and imagine you can see the natural
barriers you have around your mind.”

This was all sounding a bit woo-woo to Tansy, but she stuck
with it. Pushing aside her healthy skepticism, she did her best to tune in to
Sorcha’s voice and make like a believer.

“Your barrier might look like a wall or a fence,” Sorcha
continued. “It might be metal, stone or wood. It might even be pure energy.
Whatever it is, it will be unique to you—yours to hold
and maintain, yours to lower if you wish.” Sorcha was silent for a moment, and
when she spoke again her voice was much quieter. “Tell me when you see it.”

Tansy kept her body relaxed, timing her breathing to the
dragon’s inhale and exhale as it brushed by her feet. She did her best to feel
Fellescend with her emotions as well as her body, and then she went searching
for her walls. To her utter amazement, she quickly came up against a high,
impenetrable barrier of solid steel. “I’ve found it.”

“Good.” Sorcha’s quiet voice was full of approval. “Now I
want you to concentrate on Fellescend, the feel of him and the texture of his
personality. Then I want you to make a tiny door in your wall. A special door,
security coded so no one but Fellescend will even know it’s there. Only he can
open it, and only then if you let him. Tell me when you have the door ready.”

Tansy was so deep inside herself now that she didn’t even
feel self-conscious. And she was so tuned in to Sorcha’s voice she simply did
as she was told. She created a door, coded to Fellescend’s DNA, and then she
cracked it open.

“He can come in now.”

She hadn’t even finished the sentence when the rush of
Fellescend’s energy blew her right out of her trance. She jumped, drew her head
back and looked into his sinister yellow eyes.

Pet? Pet, can you hear me?