Dragon's Claim

Chapter 2-4

LAYLA PUSHED THE DOOR open, knowing the house would be empty. Rhys and Farida were off, seeing another movie. They were probably French kissing in the back of the theater. Soon enough, the house would be truly empty. Rhys and his mate would return to Egypt to rule the gold dragons and Layla would be dragged from her home to live with the American dragons.

It made her heart clench until she shooed away the feeling. It was just a house, she told herself. It was just a structure of wood and carpeting. No one could take away the memories she’d had here. No one could take away her brother. Rhys would always answer if she called.

He was all she’d ever had, all either of them had. Their parents died when she was still young. That left Rhys to raise her. Sure, the family helped as much as they could. Often times, Layla stayed with Maggie or spent long, quiet days with Owain. Even at that age, Layla had a strange understanding with Drystan’s father.

She remembered the time she accidentally stumbled into Elgar’s hoard. She never thought that Owain’s mountain home was connected to Elgar’s prison. She found the room of shining metal cups and had gotten lost in its glory, meandering from one chalice to the next in awe. Until she found the thin and ancient dragon sitting in the corner by himself. His eyes flicked to her for an instant, reminding her of a wrinkled, old lizard.

She’d frozen, a tiny four-year-old staring up at what seemed like an ancient dragon. She’d expected Elgar to eat her in one gulp. Instead, a soft smile curved his lips and he turned back to studying the cup he rolled between his hands.

Confused and curious, Layla spent most of that day sitting not too far way. She watched while Elgar polished and studied each and every chalice in his hoard, as if a genie might pop out of one and grant him the thing he so desperately wanted.

Layla was going to miss everyone, even old Elgar.

Her heart clenched in her chest. They were forcing her to leave. Everything she knew and loved would be thousands of miles away, on the other side of an endless ocean. She didn’t understand what she’d done for them to make her leave. She’d protected her family. She’d killed their adversary.

Why send her away from her home?

Layla caught herself. She drew in a haggard breath and pushed herself upright. She would not be that person. She would not be weak. Instead, she let the monster rise to the surface, let it pull away the phantom fingers that clenched around her heart and ease the pressure building in her chest.

She had survived worse. She could survive this.

Layla paused. No longer caught in the throes of her emotions, she realized there was someone in her home. She could hear the faint scuffling of feet on the carpet, the soft sound of a muffled snicker. Remaining still, she tilted her head to scent the air. It smelled like the sky before a storm. That was not a smell that her house usually carried. Not unless Rhys bought a new scented candle for the bathroom.

No, there was a dragon in her house. One of the American ones, she thought. From the sounds of their stifled laughter, she guessed they weren’t up to any actual harm, so she went back to what she’d been doing. They could sit, hidden, for all she cared.

As she carried her sandwich into the living room, she wondered what they thought they were up to. Had Drake put her on watch after Farida’s blunt words in the tower? Did everyone think she wanted to die? Why did either of them care?

She was sick of being watched. She was tired of feeling like she was on display or, worse, still in recovery. She hadn’t had to heal since the day the witch stood over her. Layla still had to find a way to thank Gwen, but nothing seemed right. Her mind wandered, but always returned to the burning indignation with each soft scuffle or laugh.

What were they doing?

Her eyes scanned the living area as she sank toward the couch seat, searching for signs of the American dragons. There were no bodies hiding behind her curtains like children; no eyes peeking from around corners.

Layla hit the couch and the world exploded beneath her. She was launched up and over the low coffee table before landing on a stack of DVDs that her brother hadn’t put away. Her heart raced inside her ribcage and her ribs ached from the impact. Looking back, the couch seat had blown apart to reveal what the American dragons had hidden inside of it.

The burst made them appear, laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe. Layla, laying amongst the fallen DVDs and debris from her couch should have felt the rise of anger. Instead, laughter began to bubble up and out of her. She couldn’t stop it. All she could do was clutch her middle as she fought for air between laughs.

The American dragons fell on the floor beside her. Their laughter dying, but the cheerful smiles curving their mouths remaining.

“What the hell was that?” Layla had to ask as she looked over at the ruined couch seat. It didn’t matter. No one would be living here soon, anyway. Well, Rhys and Farida had more time than she did, but Layla didn’t care about a couch.

“It’s the air bag from our rental car,” a dark skinned dragon man said between laughs. Tufts of shining, black hair fell over his dark eyes, but when he looked up and the light caught his gaze they flashed iridescent like a ray of sunlight over an oil slick.

“An airbag?”

The second dragon nodded. He had a mop of blonde and brown curls falling over his forehead, even though the sides were neatly shaved. The smile on his lips were much more subdued, but a hint of pride gleamed in his eyes.

“It took a bit of a steady hand to get it out without activating it, but it was so worth it.”

She smiled. Layla couldn’t help herself.

“Was that some sort of weird initiation ritual? Blow your friend up and say welcome to the family?”

The two dragon men looked at one another before nodding.

“You’re not the first one we’ve blown up, but we don’t blow up everyone. Just the people we like.”

“Just don’t... Don’t tell Drake,” the one with the mop of curls said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Your secret is safe with me.... For now.”

Another figure burst through the door. Layla recognized the smell on the air. Home. Brother. Rhys stood over the three of them, laughing amongst the messy chaos. His eyes lighted on the ruined half of the couch, at his sister laying in a pile of DVDs. She laughed when his brow crinkled and he fought the smile trying to emerge.

“What have you done to the couch? I highly doubt it deserved whatever it was you did.”

“It was kind of a springy piece of s**t,” Layla admitted. “I heard Farida say, the other night, that the bloody springs stabbed her.”

She watched her brother’s face turn red. They both knew what Rhys and Farida were doing on the couch when Layla over heard them.

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